Mommy Dearest
by byrhthelm
Summary: A 'what if' story that sees our hero up to his neck in mommy trouble
1. Mommy Dearest

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 1  
>All in the Family<strong>

"Commander Rabb's Office, Petty Officer Coates, sir. Oh, I beg your pardon ma'am! No ma'am, he's with the Admiral right now. No ma'am, I just happened to be passing his desk when the phone rang." She looked across the desk at Commander Rabb as he mouthed frantically 'who is it? Mackenzie?' (He'd been ducking calls from Lieutenant Colonel Mackenzie for days) She shook her head, while still listening to the caller and raised her eyebrows, and with eyes brimming with mischief, she mouthed in return 'your mother', then ignoring his desperate shakes of his head said to his horror, "Oh, one moment ma'am, he's just walked in the door!"

Giving her a look that promised future dire punishment he reluctantly accepted the 'phone from her and said, in his best-behaved little boy voice, "Hi, mom, how are you" but he didn't take his eyes off the Petty Officer's hips as she turned and walked out of his office.

"Don't you, 'Hi mom,' me!" said his mother's voice from the other side of the continent. "You should be ashamed of yourself!

Well, alright he'd been a bit busy and hadn't managed to call home for a week or two, or maybe six, he thought a little guiltily, and he could, he supposed, have made the time to call in and see her, or just call her when he was on that last JAGMAN investigation at Miramar, but he had been busy, and he had in the past left it much longer between calls home. And it was complicated; there were still unresolved issues between him and Frank, his mother's second husband. He still hadn't found the right moment yet to tell his mother about his newly discovered half-brother Sergei. How the hell was he supposed to explain that anyway! But for his mom to tell him he should be ashamed of himself was a bit much, unless, and his heart sunk, she had somehow found out about Sergei! But how?

"Mom, I'm sorry, I know I should have called you sooner, but we've been a bit busy here..."

"Oh this isn't about you neglecting me! I'm used to that!" he winced at this reminder of his past failures to call home, but neglect?

"Mom, I don't neglect you! I send you Birthday, Christmas and Mothers' Day Cards, I always call you on those days..."

"And who reminds you to send those cards? I suppose it's your secretary!"

"What secretary? I don't have a secretary!"

"Well who was that girl that answered your phone? Another one of your floozies, I suppose, or is she just another one of your unfortunate victims?"

Harmon Rabb was now totally out of his depth and sinking fast. He honestly had no idea what his mother was talking about, but he clutched at a passing straw, and as usual when trying to deal with his mother in one her moods, he caught hold of the wrong one. "Mom, she's just one of the Legalmen who work in the office, and she was just dropping off some paperwork for me when you called. I barely know the girl!" He was unaware that the volume of his voice had risen until he saw out of the corner of his eye and through the open door of his office, a door that Petty Officer Coates should have shut behind her, he had gathered a small audience. Included in the audience was Lieutenant Harriett Sims who was looking at him with an expression of unholy amusement on her face, and 'the girl' he had this past moment, deeply offended and dismissively described to his mother as 'just one of the Legalmen'. The mischief that had lit up her face a bare five minutes ago had entirely disappeared, and she looked deeply hurt and had turned pale. But for now he had to try and cope with his mother, and hope that nobody else noticed her expression; he'd have to deal with his mistake later.

"Mom, I have no idea what you're talking about!" he protested, making frantic signals for someone to shut his office door for him.

"It's just as well that you've got friends in that office of yours who answer their calls and gave me that sweet child's number so that I was able to call her. I don't know what you said or did to her, although that seems to be self-evident, but when I spoke to her and told her who I was, she couldn't stop crying! I always hoped you'd give me grandchildren, but I thought I had raised you so that at least you'd get married first, and not present me with a clutch of bastards!" 'Friends who answer their calls'? What friends? Mackenzie?

"Mom," he replied helplessly, "what sweet child, what bastards?"

"That's right, pretend ignorance. I don't know what I did wrong when I was raising you, but you certainly haven't turned out as I'd expected, or as your father would have wanted!"

Ow! That was dirty pool! And he still didn't know of what crime he was being accused. He had a right to a fair and speedy trial (OK, this one was speedy, if a bit on the biased side), he had the right to confront his accuser (well he was, kind of, but she was also apparently the judge in the case, and she'd already found him guilty!) and he had the right to hear the evidence against him!

"Mom, he said patiently, "I'm not pretending ignorance. I honestly do not know what you are talking about!" Again as he spoke he was unaware of his voice reaching a crescendo.

"Don't you yell at me! I'm talking about that pretty little blonde girl Loren, and that fat belly you've given her!"

"That's not mine!" he retorted (Still yelling, a voice in the back his mind warned him; still yelling, not good.) "That's Sergei's baby!" Loren? 'A sweet child'? _Loren Singer_? And then an awful realisation dawned on him: Oh crap! Did I just say Sergei? He asked himself in panic.

The silence emanating from La Jolla was deafening, and finally, a quiet, slow, measured voice loaded with poisonous sweetness asked, "And just who is Sergei? And why, if the baby is his, should Loren say it was another bastard Rabb?"

Oh, crap, crap, crap, crap! "Mom, it's a long, long story, and I don't really have time to try and explain it to you now. And it isn't really the kind of thing you need to hear over the 'phone. Mom, I'll fly out to La Jolla this weekend and I'll try to clear everything up, properly. OK, mom? Mom? Mom, say something... please?"

"If you are sure you are coming to visit me this weekend, then yes, I'll give you a hearing, but why you couldn't have called in last week when you were at Miramar, I just don't know! I suppose it was too difficult to get a rental and drive all those hundreds of miles, no, wait, all of the twelve miles between the airport and here!"

"I promise, mom, I'll be there late Friday evening." We are not having a conversation as to why I did not visit her when I was at Miramar! And how the hell did she find out? Mackenzie again?

"Not too late, you know Frank and I like our early bedtime on a weekend!" (Oh, great, thanks mom for putting _that_ image in my mind!)

"Mom, who gave you Loren's number?" I don't even have Loren's number!

"It was that nice Sarah Mackenzie, when I called to talk to you last week. She didn't know where you were either, and suggested I call Loren, she said it would have been too awkward for her to call." I'll just bet she did!

"Now, don't forget, Friday evening!"

"I'll be there mom, oh, and mom, I love you."

"I love you too, son, take care, and we'll see you on Friday - don't forget."

He put the 'phone down and buried his face in his hands. How did he suddenly become the bad guy in this? All he'd tried to do was help the woman who was, as she finally admitted, carrying his half-brother's child! OK, he'd yelled at Loren in Belsinger's parking lot, but she could provoke him nearly as much as Mackenzie, and she'd been wearing his patience thin over the it-was/wasn't-Sergei's-baby game she'd been playing ever since they got back from the _Seahawk_, but she did have his sympathy, and when she'd grabbed her stomach and said it hurt he'd stopped yelling at her and driven her up to Bethesda to get a check-up and then when the medicos had said she was OK, on to Ronald Regan airport to make sure she got to her flight to San Diego in time. He'd even paid for the first month's parking at the secure parking lot she'd booked her car into while she was on maternity leave.

And he'd got a witness to his good deeds! Petty Officer Coates had been in the bar that evening and she'd come running when he'd called her for help, and she'd followed him in her own car so he wouldn't be left stranded when he'd parked Loren's. Now that was another mess they'd have to clear up!

Neither of them had meant it to happen, she'd driven him home, and he'd invited her in for a coffee, to say thank you for her help and sorry for spoiling her dinner. They'd got talking, about her article 32 hearing, about Bud and his accident, and she'd got all misty eyed, and then he'd done something incredibly stupid. He'd done what he had wanted to do since he'd first seen her more than a year before, he'd taken her into his arms and he'd kissed her. She had been just as stupid, she'd kissed him back. They had ended up spending that night, and many more since, together. It was the irony of their situation that got to him. After waiting so many years, after years of searching for just the right woman, it had been the navy that had thrown them together and the navy that would throw them into the brig for being together!

And now, this morning, in trying to pacify his mother he'd referred to her, in her hearing, as 'just a girl from the office'. Well, unless she was too mad to even talk to him, he could expect a three ring circus of a fight this evening!

He groaned, all he'd tried to do was be a good pilot, a good lawyer and a good person, and this was all the thanks he got. But it seemed he wasn't even going to be allowed the luxury of a little self-pity. His office door was hurled open, and he snapped his head out of his hands, as a blazingly furious Mac Mackenzie burst into his office. She slammed the door behind her and yelled, "Rabb! You bastard...!"

This was why he'd been ducking her calls. He'd said something in casual conversation about helping to look after Loren, and she'd leapt to the same conclusion his mother had, but her anger he realised was motivated by jealousy. What the hell she'd got to be jealous about he didn't know. They were work partners, colleagues, sometimes they were even friends, but she had no right to be jealous! They had, or rather, she had once, that night in Sydney Harbour, broached the possibility of them being more than just friends, but he'd known that it would have been a huge personal and professional mistake, and she'd seemed OK with it. Since then he'd had girlfriends while she'd had her boyfriends and had even been engaged once, and they'd gotten on pretty well most of the time.

His own temper now worn to shreds he'd risen to his feet and yelled at her across the desk, "Don't you come storming in here, you... Jarhead!" Even in his anger he couldn't bring himself to swear at a woman.

But that was as far as he got. They were interrupted by a furious Admiral Chegwidden, "Stand down! Both of you stand down!" he roared. "My office now!"

They had been forced still simmering with rage at each other, to stand to attention while the Admiral with consummate mastery had torn their characters and their professional abilities to shreds. They had left his office hating him, and their outstanding grievances unresolved, still hating each other. The chewing out had been one of the Admiral's masterworks; it had been forceful, pithy, well-delivered, well-reasoned and very, very loud. Even Petty Officer Tiner, the Admiral's Yeoman had looked pale and shaken as they had left the Old Man's office, and Tiner had been at his own desk!

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Petty Officer Coates had evaded him all afternoon; everywhere he looked it seemed he had just missed her. He couldn't persist in his search for her. If he made it too obvious, then scuttlebutt control would shift into overdrive; and scuttlebutt reaching the wrong quarters could easily lead to an investigation into their somewhat unorthodox (and contrary to regulations) relationship.

So now he sat on his couch at home, idly plucking a soulful blues number on the strings of his acoustic guitar, an opened but untouched bottle of beer on the table in front of him, and a look of abject misery on his face. He didn't look up as the apartment door opened, he didn't need to, only one other person had the key to the apartment. He tensed as she crossed the room towards him and he thought he could feel the temperature drop as she came closer.

Petty Officer Jennifer Coates had come prepared for a fight. There was no way he was going to get off referring her to her as 'just a Legalman from the office.' Who the hell did he think he is? Especially now! It was one thing to be careful around the office, but when it comes to his sounding ashamed of her when he was talking to his mother, then it was about time she tore him a new one! The miserable bastard (for once she agreed with Colonel Mackenzie) couldn't even look her in the eye. And then he did, and Jen felt all her anger drain away. He wasn't wearing his usual cocky grin, he looked pale, drawn, miserable, anxious, ashamed and... scared.

He swallowed hard before he was able to speak, and even then all he could say "Jen... I was so afraid I'd lost you..."

She sat next to him on the couch and drew his face down to her breast, "I know, Harm, I know, everything's fine, hush now."

She sat holding him like that for a long time, content to let her presence heal him. And then standing, she took his hand in hers and drew him gently towards the bedroom.

Later, in the peaceful darkness, he spoke tentatively to her, "Jen, would you like to come to San Diego with me this weekend, and meet my folks? I promised mom that I'd go, there are some family things we need to talk through, but I really want her to meet you."

"Are you sure about this? I'm told you never let your mom meet your girl-friends."

"That's because, until you, I never met anyone who she would approve of."

"Not just as a smokescreen to get you off the hook about Loren and her baby?"

"No, Never! I know I was a jerk this morning, but I would never ever do that to you, to the woman I love."

"Are you sure you love me Harm?"

There was something in her voice that told him that his next answer had better be the right one. "I am as sure that I love you as I am that the sun rises in the morning and sets in the evening."

She took his hand and laid it on her bare stomach, "And are you going to love this one just as much?"


	2. The Thunder of the Captains

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 2  
>The Thunder of the Captains<strong>

Admiral A J Chegwidden watched his office door close behind his two very chastened subordinates, and a slow grin creased his face. That had gone well! He'd scared the crap out of both of them! Mind you, they had needed it. Pair of damn' young fools.

Now, safely outside the Admiral's Office, Commander Rabb sent a weak grin towards the young woman at his side, as they both allowed themselves a few deep breaths. He was startled to receive in exchange a look that promised several uncomfortable minutes of domestic hell. At least she couldn't let fly at him until they got... home... After all, they had both just promised their Commanding Officer that they would observe strict military protocol while they were in uniform and on duty. On the other hand, it might be better if she could blow off steam now, if she kept that safety valve locked down until they did get home, it could leave the apartment (and him) looking like Pompeii on a bad hair day.

It had been a simple plan, march in and tell the Admiral that he wished to resign effective from the date of the letter and get out. Go to the court house, get the licence and get married. But no, that wasn't good enough for the Admiral, was it? No, he just had to start turning over stones!

It had all started precisely to plan, he'd asked the Admiral's Yeoman if the great man could spare him a moment; in he had marched, and handed the Admiral the letter, "My letter of resignation, sir". And that was when the excreta first impacted the air conditioning. Who was, it he had asked himself, had said that no plan survives contact with the enemy?

"Did you... did you just say _letter of resignation_?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why?"

"Personal reasons, sir!" Don't, please don't dig any deeper.

"What damn personal reasons?" _Dammit_, that _is_ digging deeper.

"I'd rather not say sir." Take a hint AJ, take a hint!

"Rabb, either you start talking, or a) I throw this letter in the trash and b) I throw you in the brig!" What for? I haven't done anything, I've been good! Er... actually no, I haven't, but that's why I want to resign, before I get thrown in the brig. Come on, AJ, give me a break!

"Er... because I'm getting married, sir?" Didn't want to say that... No, I mean it; I really didn't want to say that. What the hell made me say that when I haven't even asked her yet?

"Married? I didn't even know that you were dating Commander."

"Dating? Dating? Oh, no sir! No, we're definitely not dating sir, and we're not sharing accommodation, either sir!" And I think I'll shut up and stop panicking just about right now.

"You're not dating anyone?"

"No, sir."

"And you want to get married to this woman, I hope to God Rabb that is a woman, whom you are not dating?"

"No, sir... I mean yes sir, it is a woman sir, but it's ...well it's not really dating, sir, we just kinda got into the habit of hanging out sir... and then..." Oh God, he's going to make me say it! "and then we kinda, fell in love, amongst other things, and now we're getting married, sir, and that's why I'm resigning, sir! Well, the air of decisiveness at the end of that sentence ought to do the trick.

"Still doesn't explain why you think you need to resign, Rabb, we've got plenty of married officers..." Crap, he didn't buy the whole air of decisiveness thing; Still, that's a rather interesting shade of purple, he really needs to watch his blood pressure. "Rabb, do not tell me, do not even _think_ of telling me, that you have been breaking fraternisation regs!"

"Yes, sir!" Oh... Crap! He _had_ to ask that one as well?

"Is that your way of saying that you're not going to tell me you've been breaking regulations, or that you have been breaking regulations?"

"Sir, it's not quite like that" Er... actually it is _just_ like that.

"Alright Commander, who?"

"Who what sir?" No! He can't ask me that, not now, I haven't had time to tell her... er... ask her about this. It was supposed to be a surprise! Oh... hell! She _is_ going to be surprised!

"Sir, it's Legalman Two Coates, sir."

The Admiral reached out to the office inter-phone on his desk and pressed the call button, "Tiner, go and find Coates and tell her to get her... er... tell her to get her six in here ASAP, if not faster! And Tiner, do it quietly. Stay put Commander, this won't take a minute." The Admiral got up and left his office, returning in under a minute with two personnel files in his hands and retook his seat. He opened the bulkier of the two files and h'mmed and hawed as he flicked through its pages.

The few minutes that passed before Tiner's knock on the door jamb seemed to last a silent eternity.

"Legalman Two Coates reporting as ordered, sir!" Her lightly tanned and normally cheerful face, the most expressive face he had ever seen, had a puzzled frown on it as she entered the office, now as she took in the scene, her expression was of dread of impending danger, not too dissimilar to that of a rabbit caught in the headlights of a car, and under that tan she had gone a deathly white.

The Admiral looked across his desk at his two subordinates standing side by side in front of him. He had to fight hard to suppress a grin as he noticed that despite the situation, she had halted just a little too close to him, and that he, apparently without moving, and had closed what little gap had remained and that the two of them were just about brushing shoulders. They probably hadn't meant to do that; it was pure instinct that made them close up and present a common, united front to the threat, he thought, a damn' good indicator, if not outright proof of the nature of their commitment to each other.

"I have here," he said picking up the files, one in each hand, "Your service records." He balanced each in turn on his palm and jiggled it slightly up and down as if weighing it. "Allowing for the difference between your years of service, I should estimate that each is as heavy as the other. And that despite both of them containing fitreps which suggest that you both incline towards insubordination, both contain enough evidence to indicate the potential for highly successful navy careers. And now you want to throw it all away for... for... what exactly?" Rabb risked a quick sideways look at Coates and saw how pale she was and how near to tears. If that miserable, bald-headed son-of-a-bitch made Jennifer cry, then he'd deck him first and worry about the consequences later.

The Admiral paused to see what effect his words had on the two, no, dammit, on the couple, standing in front of his desk. Coates was ashen and her eyes looked suspiciously moist; for a moment he hated himself for what he had to do. A glance at Rabb showed that although minus the suggestion of tears, he looked almost as pale as the girl standing shoulder to shoulder with him. He also saw that somewhen during the course of this interview that the Commander had taken hold of the Legalman's hand and was now gripping it in a gesture of support, reassurance and comfort. He was forced to look away in case he started grinning and congratulating them before he had finished reaming them.

Composing his face into an expression of disapproval he demanded, "Do you know what the penalties for breaking the fraternisation rules can be?" He obviously didn't want an answer, as he immediately continued, "A Court Martial for the pair of you, reduction in rank to E1, loss of all pay. pension and benefits, years of confinement and dishonourable discharge. What have you got to say to that, hey?"

To the surprise of all three it was Jennifer who replied defiantly, "It was worth it, sir!" Tell me she didn't just say that! Not to the Admiral! But damn! I'm so proud of her, and I love her so much.

"Sir, there are no grounds for filing charges against Coates. I will admit to abuse of my rank and position in forcing her to break regulations, sir!"

"Sir!" There was no mistaking the outrage in her voice, "It was no such thing, sir!" Shut up Jen, I'm trying to save at least one of us!

"Alright you two, stand down! This is still my office not a college debating society! When did all this begin?"

"January, sir, just after Lieutenant Singer went on maternity leave."

"So, after four, five months, why decide to resign now?" Now he's done it, I can't answer that, not with Jennifer stood right here, how can I tell him, without breaking her confidence. It's up to her how and when to tell people... Oh! right! got it!

"Sir, our relationship has got to the point, where it is useless to procrastinate any further, and I have..." Oops, no I haven't, "and I am about to ask the Petty Officer to marry me."

"Sir, I was going to ask for an opportunity to speak with... Marry you? You haven't even mentioned that to me and you... oh, you...!" Well, at least she doesn't look so pale now; in fact that tinge of pink in her complexion gives her a certain glow, unless that's the baby...

"That's enough Petty Officer! You can tear him a new one on your time, not mine! You were going to ask to see me? Continue, please."

"Sir, in accordance with regulations, I am bound to inform you that ten days ago I had a consultation with my... with a doctor, and that as a result of that consultation, I am now in a position to tell you that I will be giving birth during the last week in December, sir!" She knew, ten days ago? And she didn't tell me until last night? We are definitely going to have _that_ conversation Jennifer Coates!

"Just a moment. Commander: am I to understand that you haven't yet asked Coates to marry you, but you were prepared to resign before you had asked?"

"Yes, sir." Now, pick the bones of that one you old...

"Coates, despite that this... this officer... _told_ me that he was going to marry you, before he had even _asked_ you, are you actually willing to accept his proposal?"

"Yes, sir."

"H'mm. Now, as you are probably aware, a Court Martial is not the only option open to me. I can counsel you - include this conversation as falling under that definition - I can have one, or both of you re-assigned, or I can have letters of instruction inserted in your personnel files; and given your expressed intent to marry, and thus will not be in any further breach of the regulations, that is what I intend to do." He opened a folder lying in his in-box and opening it hand each of them a single sheet of paper. "I need each of you to counter-sign these letters in order to show that you have received them."

"Sir, these letters are dated February 1st!"

"Yes, I believe they are." The old bastard knew? All this time he knew? All this today was a sham? I am definitely going to...

"But, we only came forward today...?"!

"Commander, despite what you, or even the Legalman here, might think, I, and not you, am still the Commanding Officer of this outfit. Did you really think that pair of you could wander around my building, with those goofy expressions on your faces, without me noticing? You can thank your lucky stars that others are too involved in their own personal circumstances to notice, or are too entirely self-absorbed to notice! Despite that, I'm telling you now, that had I noticed any overt signs of a close personal relationship between you that could possibly have led to conduct likely to be contrary to good order and discipline, those would not be letters of instruction I'm handing you, they would be the statements and specifics of the charges being filed against you both. I will now have to take steps to ensure that that happy state of affairs continues. Commander, with Lieutenant Singer on extended maternity leave, I cannot afford to re-assign you, therefore Petty Officer any re-assignment required will necessarily fall upon you. In the meantime, you will both continue to observe all military proprieties; while on duty and/or in uniform, you will address each other by rank and not by first or, especially not, by pet names. And there will positively not be any open displays of affection, including, but not limited to embraces, touches, kisses, or... or... any other visible displays of affection. And one more point, Petty Officer, you will commence your maternity leave at the end of your thirty-seventh week of pregnancy at the very latest! I have no wish for my office to repeat its performance as a delivery room! Am I understood?" That's it? No court Martial? I could kiss the guy... er... no, maybe not.

"Yes, sir!"

"Just two more things, Commander, given your past joint history, I'll leave it up to you to inform Colonel MacKenzie of your impending change of status and take care of any personal fallout, resulting therefrom. I'll take care of any professional fallout, as best I may." Yes... that's not going to be easy... for either of us. Crap, Mac could just about be mad enough to take her temper out on Jen, I'll have to watch out for that!

"And the second point, sir? You did say there were two things?"

"Yes, Commander, you can let go of the Petty Officer's hand now! Oh, and get rid of this damn' letter!"

It had been a funny sort of day, he reflected later that evening, as he dabbed his newly washed face dry, and tenderly applied the strip of band-aid to the nicely swelling cut on his forehead. True, his shirt was ruined, but he could always buy a new one. Still, it could have been worse. The old Admiral, had really got him going there for a nasty twenty minutes or so, but he had, in the end, offered his full support to his two errant juniors. Really, he shouldn't have expected anything less from the man. Chegwidden wouldn't be Chegwidden unless he believed he owed his juniors as much loyalty and support as he believed they owed him. Nevertheless, he'd have to do something about that; if he let the Admiral get away with any more stunts like that, then life would quickly become unbearable... No, his life would never become unbearable now, not now, not with Jen in it, for keeps. And he was pretty sure that she would either come out of the bedroom pretty soon, or at least unlock the door and let him in.

Despite all the mistakes he had made today, he had at least been right about one thing: Locking down her safety valve all day had led to some pretty spectacular fireworks. In the face of a surprisingly fluent diatribe which tore apart his morals, his sense of ethics and his character, he'd managed to calm her down eventually. His court-room skills of persuasion and reasoned, logical argument had finally convinced her to stop trying to maim him, although he had tried to make it as difficult as possible for her by backing away around the kitchen table, and his despairing, "Jen! No! Don't throw that!... it's ink," might have had something to do with it, as might have been the sight of him with a mixture of ink and a little blood streaming down his face. And he'd even managed to find time during the day to slip out of the office to the County Court House to get their marriage licence, and the sight of that might have helped in pacifying her. Even so, he hadn't thought it was quite the right moment to suggest she clean up the mess she'd made, neither had he managed to find quite the right moment to have _that_ conversation about her waiting ten days to tell him after she knew about the baby!


	3. And the Shouting

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 3  
>And The Shouting<strong>

"You were going to resign? You were going to resign, without discussing it with me? You didn't care enough for me or my opinion to discuss a major change in our... in your life without talking it over first?" Legalman Second Class Jennifer Coates was simmering with anger. "And thanks to you, I haven't been able to say anything until now, because we have to observe strict military protocol!" She took a deep breath and stalked towards her prey, who, while backing away from her behind the breakfast counter, was looking at her with a mixture of trepidation and deep appreciation "And then... and then! You tell the Admiral that we're dating?" Oh, give me some credit! Actually, no, I specifically told him we weren't dating! But I did tell him that I love you, doesn't that count for something?

"Oh, I've no doubt that you were feeling noble and generous and chivalrous! But what about me? Did you stop to think for even one second that I might like to be asked what I wanted? Did you even think that I wouldn't want you to make that sort of sacrifice for me?" Ah, no, no, that's where you're wrong, because if it's for you, it's not a sacrifice.

Why was he getting his ass chewed anyway? If he'd done or said nothing then when Jen's increasing girth made concealment impossible, she would have been under pressure, both official and unofficial to name the father of her child. She would only once have to let slip his name and then the courts martial that the Admiral had warned about would become a certainty. He would never abandon her either physically or morally; she was carrying the child for whom he had yearned for years, and the thought of that child being born while its mother, the woman he loved, was a prisoner in a Navy Brig was unbearable.

"Then, just to make matters worse, you don't even _ask_ me to marry you before you _tell_ the Admiral that we are getting married? You didn't have the guts to ask _me_, but you were brave enough to tell _the admiral_! You coward! Or was it all a big joke! Did you boast that you had given me a big belly too? All boys together was it? I know I told him this morning that I would say yes, but I'm telling you now mister big-shot pilot-lawyer that that was just to keep your sorry butt of the brig! Right now I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth!" If I were the last man on earth, I'd be too damn' busy to marry anyone. No! Do not say that! Bad idea! Do not say that! Dammit I wish she'd stop taking those deep breaths! God, she's beautiful! Has she any idea how much extra strain those breaths put on her shirt buttons? Do not say that either! Red Light, Commander!

She saw and recognised the look in his eyes and was dumbfounded. "I don't believe it! I want to rip your arms off at the shoulders and beat you to death with the soggy ends, and you're getting turned on! You lecherous son-of-a-bitch!" She's right, I am getting turned on, but in my defence, there isn't a living, breathing male in the world that wouldn't be!

"Well," he attempted to defend himself, "It's all your..."

"Do not! Do not even _think_ of saying it's my fault! If you had the slightest smidgen of self control, we wouldn't be in this mess now!"

The injustice of that accusation caused him to respond, "Hey, hold up a minute, I wasn't going to blame you for the whole situation, just for being so beautiful!"

The honesty in his voice as much as his words made her heart leap. Damn him! How dare he take the wind right out of her sails just as she was getting into her stride? Nearly twelve hours she'd been forced to bottle up her anger and now he was well on his way to defusing it before she'd had a proper chance to vent.

"Don't you patronise me, don't you dare patronise me, you arrogant bastard!" she yelled at him, desperately trying to refuel her wrath.

"I was not patronising you!" he yelled, the volume of his voice now matching hers, "I was being honest! Look at yourself! Go on, look at yourself in the mirror! You are beautiful, magnificent, gorgeous, sexy, and I love you!"

"Yes! Go on! Make it all about you! You selfish prick!" she screamed and picking up the first object on his desk that came to hand she hurled it at him.

His alarmed shout of "Jen, No! Don't throw that..." was punctuated by the sound of a solid impact and the crash of breaking glass, "it's ink." Ouch! That smarts! It's my own fault, I shouldn't have ducked. Rule 21: when an angry woman throws anything at you, stand still, it'll miss.

Blinking furiously to try and clear some of the mess from his eyes he was just in time to see her whisk into the bedroom with something that looked very like a flounce. There was nothing wrong with his hearing though and the sound of the bedroom door shutting was definitely a slam. The click that followed it was the privacy lock snicking into place.

A gentle tap on the door and a softly spoken, "Jen?" failed to elicit any response other than a muffled "Go 'way!"

Look down at himself he saw that the best part of a quarter of a pint of ink goes a long, long way, when it soaks into a shirt, and pants. His hair felt matted and his forehead above his right eye was tender. He gingerly felt the fast-rising bump and winced; there had been a surprising amount of power behind that throw. If she could only work on her accuracy, with an arm like that she could pitch for next year's JAG softball team! Still, better get cleaned up and then mop that ink before it dried into... Oh, Jen, the Aubusson rug!

Swiftly rolling the expensive and now totally ruined rug, he stowed it into a trash bag, together with his ruined clothes and clad only in his boxers, he made his way to the shower. It took several attempts, with frequent checks in the mirror, to wash all the ink out of his hair and off his skin, during which process he found that either the impact of the bottle or perhaps a shard of glass as it had shattered on his skull, had put a cut directly over the centre of the lump on his forehead.

A half-an-hour later he was still in his boxers, on his hands and knees mopping up the spilt ink on the floor; he had decided that the adjacent wall would never, despite his best efforts, look the same without a fresh coat of paint when he felt her eyes on him, and became aware that she had left the bedroom. He said nothing, but kept on with his task.

Jen said nothing either, but she knelt down beside him and put her hand over his stopping its motion and said hesitantly, "Harm?" He turned his head and looked at her. Her face was stained with tear tracks and her deep brown eyes were still damp. She was no longer the magnificent raging woman who had stirred him so deeply a short time ago. She looked young, miserable, tired, frightened and overwrought and his earlier feelings of arousal were replaced by an overwhelming need to hold, soothe, comfort and protect his woman. As he raised his head to look at her, she saw the band aid stretched across the swelling on his head and gasped, "Oh, no! Harm, did I do that? I'm so sorry!"

As her face crumpled, he drew her in so that her head, resting against his chest was tucked in under his chin, right arm encircling her body leaving his left hand free to rub up and down her right arm from shoulder to elbow as he felt her tears on his bare chest.

He wished they could stay just as they were for ever and a day, but the wooden floor was hell on his knees and his back was beginning to ache. "Jen, sweetheart?" There was no reply, crooking a finger under chin he could see that her face showed the signs of a long bout of tears, and by the way her body weight against his chest had seemed to increase it was apparent that she had, despite the awkward position, fallen asleep while he was holding her. Grunting with the effort, he managed to slide his left arm under her butt, and supporting her upper body with his right arm, he strained to his feet. And slightly unsteady under his load, he carried her into the bedroom, and gently laid her on the bed.

Gently pulling her moccasins off her feet, he considered whether the necessary pulling and pushing to get rid of her outer layers of clothing would wake her, he decided that it probably would. Even the limited movement he needed to ease the cover out from under her caused to shift and mutter restlessly. Once she was safely under the duvet, he slipped into bed beside her, and held her against his chest. Although he had tried to be as smooth and gentle as possible, the movement had been enough for Jen to half awaken, in an effort to persuade her back to sleep he found himself crooning an almost forgotten lullaby from his own early childhood,

"_Hush-a-bye, don't you cry  
>Go to sleep my little baby.<br>When you wake  
>There'll be cake<br>And all the pretty little ponies_"

Despite the fresh tears which seeped from her closed eyes, Jen made a vague wordless sound which he interpreted as signifying contentment and acceptance and her breathing deepened and slowed as she fell back into a deep sleep.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

He tapped gently on the door jamb and asked, "Mac, do you have a minute? We need to talk." And I'm not looking forward to this, not one little bit.

Lieutenant Colonel 'Mac' MacKenzie's response was an impatient, "Is it urgent?" Oh, great she's in a mood already!

"Yes, it's important, for both of us, and it's sort of urgent as well."

"You'd better come in then." She pointedly closed the file she had been reading.

"Mac, we've been partners, and more importantly, friends since '96, and I don't want that to change - ever. For a long time I thought I was in love with you, but you've made it very plain in the past that you were never in love with me. I know that when my 'plane went down you were instrumental in helping to find me, and that to a huge extent I owe you my life. I know you couldn't have done what you did if there hadn't been a... connection of some sort between us. But, Mac, knowing that you didn't love me made me grow up and move on. It's because of that connection and because I think of you as my friend that I wanted you to be the first to know, that I am getting married, next week."

Mac MacKenzie went absolutely white, with the exception of two small patches of scarlet, one high up on each cheek. "What about our agreement, your promise?" I should have seen that one coming!

"Mac, the agreement was conditional; 'If neither of us is involved...' remember?"

She swallowed hard and in a flat emotionless tone she asked "Who?" I don't like the sound of that!

"Is it important, Mac?"

"Yes, it is important, I need to know who is causing you to break a promise; the first promise I've ever known you to break. And it has to be a promise you made to me!"

"Mac, it's because I'm cancelling our agreement that I have come to you first. I needed to make sure you understood..."

"Oh, I understand, alright! You're breaking your promise to me because of...whoever she is! Who is she! That blonde bitch Singer? You can give her a bastard, but you can't stand by me! Is that it!" Mac's voice had not only become louder, but had also taken on a shrillness which had attracted attention even through the glass-walled cubicle that was her office.

He took a deep breath; there was no point in trying to hide the truth, and it was probably better that he told Mac now and that she had her chance to rant, than to find out later from some other source. "It's Jennifer."

"Jennifer? Who the hell is Jennifer?" and then as realisation dawned, "Coates! Jennifer Coates? _Petty Officer_ Coates? You... you are marrying that enlisted slut, instead of standing by your agreement with me?" OK, I was prepared to let her vent, but that's going too far.

"Mac, I said that we were friends, but you can't expect to stay my friend if you go around bad-mouthing the woman I love, the woman whom I am going to marry."

"Do you think that I would even want to stay friends with you, you bastard, after an insult like that? Get out! Get out! Out!"

Saddened, but not totally surprised by her reaction he left her office, uneasily aware of the stares he was attracting from the bull-pen. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, this wasn't the first time that he and Mac had ever had a violent disagreement, so perhaps the interest would die down if Mac stuck to her normal routine and sulked for a while.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Tiner! Is the Admiral free?"

"I'm not sure ma'am, I'll check if you..." Tiner's reply faded into a silence that was broken by Mac's rapping loudly on the admiral's door jamb. Barely waiting for his bidding, Mac opened the door and stormed towards the Admirals desk. "I want it!" she demanded, not noticing that she had left the door open behind her and unaware that her voice carried quite clearly to the bull-pen.

The Admiral sighed, and gestured for Tiner to close his office door. He had been expecting something of this nature since he had arrived at work this morning, but he didn't need his entire staff becoming privy to what was quite plainly going to be a heated interview. "You want what, Colonel?"

"I want this case!"

"What case?"

"Rabb and Coates' court-martial!"

"Court-martial? On what charges?"

"Fraternisation, sir"

"There will be no such charges, Colonel."

"But, sir...Rabb and Coates, they're getting married... they must have been..."

"Stand down Colonel! There. Will. Be. No. Such. Charges!"

"Admiral! Sir..."

"_You're at attention Colonel_!"

The snap in the Admiral's voice, a tone which he had rarely used towards her shocked her into silence.

"Colonel," the admiral's tone was one of great patience. "I would be the convening officer, and I would have filed such charges immediately I had become aware of the relationship between the Commander and the Petty Officer, _had I thought it necessary to do so! _Just_ w_hen did you become aware of their relationship, Colonel?"

"Just now, sir! I came to you immediately I learned of the irregularity!"

"Would it interest you Colonel, to know that the relationship has existed for more than four months?"

"That's not possible, sir!" Thank God for her self-absorption, the Admiral thought.

"It is not only possible, Colonel, but I have documented evidence to prove it, and to prove that I was fully aware of it! So," he continued, "In light of your, or anybody else's, failure to see what was happening, would you consider that there has been any breach of good order and discipline? Have you noticed any conduct that would warrant filing charges? Have you seen any untoward displays of affection? Does the Commander write Coates' fitness reports or performance evaluations?"

Mac remained silent.

"No, I didn't think you could give an affirmative answer those questions. Now, listen to me for a moment. I don't usually, and I dislike having to, meddle in the private affairs of my staff, but you need to hear this Colonel, whether you want to or not! Commander Rabb was, at one time very strongly attracted to you; it is justice to say that he was in a fair way to loving you. But you blew that Colonel. I don't know exactly what passed between you two in Australia - and I don't want to know," he added, holding up his hand to stop her as she opened her mouth to speak, "But I do know that you hurt him when you concealed your marriage from him, and you hurt him again - badly this time - when he needed to return to flying, so that he could give it up of his own free will. But you never saw it that way did you Colonel? You just saw flying as another rival, and you made his life hell when he returned here. And you hurt him even more when you turned to Brumby, and yes, I saw his face when you indulged in that sickening PDA at Sidney airport. Then you rubbed salt into his wounds when you insisted on his being present at your wedding. Yes, I know you were instrumental in saving him when he was almost lost at sea, but had you considered that he wouldn't have tried to fly through that storm if you hadn't made such a huge issue of him being present for the ceremony? And why was that, Colonel, to rub his nose in it even further? Then, after Brumby called off the wedding you ran away to the Guadalcanal. I don't know what went on board that ship when he finally got to speak with you, but I've rarely seen him in a blacker mood than the one he was in when he got back. And now you get jealous when he's finally tired of your sophomore games, and he's moved on with his life. Colonel, he has found a fine young woman, who has worked some kind of healing magic on him, and is prepared to take him on as a partner, not on her terms, not on his terms, but in a partnership. Is that something you think you can even attempt to understand? No, I didn't think so. Colonel there will be no charges. And don't you think that perhaps you're being more than a shade hypocritical over this? I have read your file, and I am fully aware of events that took place in Okinawa. You have made your mistakes, and by dint of hard work you have managed to put most of them behind you. Do not make another major mistake in this case, Colonel let well enough alone! Dismissed!"

A seething Mac could only reply "Aye, aye, Sir!"


	4. Sounds Like A Plan

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 4  
>Sounds Like a Plan<strong>

Harmon Rabb sighed; I could have done with an easier start to the day. Especially after yesterday! That old... Admiral had wound me up pretty tight, and he knew it! I swear he was laughing at me when I said good morning earlier. Oh, well, sooner started sooner through, out into the wild blue yonder, bite the bullet, over the top, pal, oh crap, stop putting it off! "Hi Mom, it's me..."

"Harmon Rabb, if you are calling to tell me that you can't come on Friday, _as you promised me_ I shall be most disappointed!" Dammit, why does she do that? _How_ does she do that?

"Er, no Mom... I definitely do want to see you, I miss you, and I do want talk to you and tell... er... try to tell you all about Sergei, it's just that things are a little bit tight timewise right now, and I was wondering whether you and Frank could possibly, perhaps...?"

"No!"

"Pardon, Mom?"

"I said, 'no'" Yeah, that's what I thought she said.

"Mom, it really is difficult right now, and it would really help if..."

"What part of 'no' do you not understand? Was the 'n', or was it the 'o'?" Oh, right, the sarcasm bit. OK, time to run up the white flag... but not just yet. Let's see if I can make her squirm a bit first.

"Mom, this is really, really important, Mom. Mom I _need _you and Frank, but especially you, Mom, to please come back east?" Now, has that done the trick?

"Harmon Rabb Junior, I have followed your career- both your careers as a pilot and as a lawyer - with great interest and admiration, but I am not one of your witnesses to be manipulated into self incrimination. I am not going to drag Frank all the way across the country in his condition and I'm certainly not going to leave him home alone!" Oh! Yellow flag on that play, please! Frank's as healthy as a horse! She only brings up his 'condition' when it's inconvenient for her to do something someone else wants her to do!

"Mom, Frank's good to be on his own for a couple of days, isn't he? Doesn't he still walk up to the golf club and play a full eighteen holes once or twice a week?" Ha! Gotcha!

"That's neither here nor there. We can't come back east; we have house guests!" Yeah, right. What's the betting that when I, when we, get to La Jolla, they'll have been called away on some emergency! She must think I was born yesterday!

"What house guests, Mom?"

"That's a surprise, son." It'll sure be a damn' surprise if there's anyone there when we arrive.

"Alright, Mom, I'll be there, but Mom?"

"Yes, son?"

"Mom, you'll need to make up an extra guest room; I shall be bringing a friend with me."

"Oh, who's that? Anyone we know?"

"It's a surprise, Mom!" Now, how does that feel? "Goodbye, Mom, I love you!"

"I love you too, son." Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn! She does it to every time! And she says I'm the manipulative one!

Now, all I have to do, is get myself and Jen out to La Jolla on Friday and back on Monday... or do I? I wonder...

"Hello, is that Andrews' Naval Air?... Hi, could you put me through to Commander Air Operations, please? Thank you."

"Air Ops, Senior Chief Brennan, sir."

"Senior Chief, good morning, this is Commander Rabb at JAG HQ, Falls Church, is Commander Keeter running the board today?"

"He is, sir, hold the line a moment and I'll patch you through."

"Harm?"

"Hi, Keeter, I need some help."

"No, I am not going to lend you any money, neither am I going to introduce you to my sister, or any of my female cousins. And I'm not going to pretend that I'm your father in law." Great.

"No, none of that; I don't need money from you, there's no shotgun wielding fathers on my six, I don't need an escort to a dance. But what I do need are two fast seats to Miramar on Friday, and getting back before the following Saturday. Please?"

"'Please'. That's a bit unusual coming from you, isn't it Commander? Oh, right, more sarcasm.

"Keeter, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't really, really important. I've got to get out west to visit with my Mom on Friday, or she'll have me keel-hauled. The return flight's not so urgent, as long as I'm back before next Saturday."

"What's so important about that particular day?"

"I'll tell you when you meet me at... JAG HQ at eleven-hundred hours that morning. It's a bit of a formal thing, Dress Whites, no sword, OK?"

"Formal? Dress Whites? What's going on? What are you up to?" Gottim!

"Keeter, why ask all these questions? Trust me!"

"The last time I trusted you, I ended up kissing the academy mascot! I ain't falling for that sort of crap again." Oh, boy. This is going to be so good; I only wish I could see his face!

"Keeter, your suspicions are very hurtful. I promise you, no jokes or tricks. What's wrong? Don't you want to be my best man?" Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, thr...

"Your what! Harm, stop jerking around! This is far too serious to joke about!"

"So, who's joking?"

"You're serious? You're really getting married? The great commitment-phobic himself is actually getting married? Oh, boy. Wait until Skates hears about this!" Skates! Where in hell does he know Skates from?

"How do you know Skates?"

"Lieutenant Commander Elizabeth Hawkes is my two-oh, here. We only found out that we both knew you a couple of weeks ago. Man, are you in trouble! The intel she gave me on you is going to cost you plenty!" Oh, it is, huh? Well suck this up!

"I assume you've actually told her about the academy goat? And that red-neck father and his two sons... and his daughter, and about...?"

"OK, OK! Let me have a look at the board... Two seats you said? You wanna drive? I got a Tomcat going to Miramar, scheduled for Saturday... but I could re-schedule for Friday. She's a good ride, but her avionics need a retro-fit."

"Is she safe?"

"Harm, you may tick me off from time to time, but not so much that I'd want to kill you!" H'mm, is he sure about that?

"OK, sounds like a plan... except, if it crashes and kills us, I'll haunt you to death my own self!"

"OK, OK. It's wheels up at fourteen hundred, to Miramar via Wiley Point for on-deck refuelling. I'll get on to Miramar and see what they've got heading our way next week. But I warn you, you may not be able to drive." Good man, Keeter!

"Thanks, Keeter, I knew I could depend on you! Just one more thing, have you got a number for Skates that I can call?"

"Go one better than that, my man. She's right here! Hey, Commander Hawkes, your lover-boy is on the horn!"

"Sir, Yellow Light! Hello?"

"Hi, is that the incredibly lovely, shapely, beautiful, sexy, clever and extremely talented Skates Hawkes?" Wait for it, wait for it.

"Who the hell is this? Hammer? Hammer, is that you? Dammit that's a red light for you! How are you, handsome?"

"Hey, Skates, I'm fine, really, really fine. Skates, I gotta question for you: Do you want to jump my bones again before next Saturday?"

"I told you, sir that was just scuttlebutt! Next Saturday? Why the rush?" Damn! I wish I could see _her_ face right now.

"Well, because that's my wedding day, and..." Ouch! Why do women have to squeal like that?

"No, don't say anything else just now Skates. This isn't a joke. It's really happening, and I'd like for you and Keeter to be at the ceremony to act as our witnesses. Dress Whites, eleven-hundred hours at JAG, Falls Church, OK?"

"Harm, of course I'll be there, it'll be my privilege. But this is all a bit sudden...?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Look it's not really something I want to talk about on the 'phone, but I promise I'll explain it all next Saturday... if you're coming?"

"Harm, this sounds like a mystery romance to me; you couldn't keep me away from it now with wild horses. She's a lucky gal, whoever she is!"

"No, Skates, I'm the lucky one. See you next Saturday."

Well, that's not a bad morning's work. All I need to do now is get our leave applications in and get Jen to sign this wedding licence. If I move my chair just a bit, can I see her desk? Yes! Oh, damn! Harriett's talking with her... I wonder...

"JAG, Petty Officer Coates, sir"

"Has anyone ever told you, Petty Officer, that you have the nicest, tightest little butt in the whole of the US Navy? Woah! Look at that red face!

"Yes, sir, frequently! Will that be all, sir? Thank you!" Damn. She's not playing! But that was a hell of look she got from Harriett. Time for some face to face. At least she can't throw anything at me while we're at work, and I don't have any more ink bottles at home!

"Coates?"

"Yes, sir?" Oh wow, if looks could kill!

"Petty Officer, I need your signature, here and here on your leave application, and our licence application. OK? Right I'll take those, thank you Petty Officer. Tiner!"

"Sir,"

"Rush job on this and this to the Admiral, please."

"Aye, aye, sir!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Jen, we're mostly all squared away," Rabb and Jen were curled up together on the couch in his, no, their, apartment; his arm was draped across and down her back while her head resting against his chest provided in its turn a convenient support for his own head. "I've fixed a flight to Miramar on Friday, that leave application was for two weeks, starting after we secure on Friday. I even managed to get a court-house date in Falls Church for Saturday thirteen-hundred next week. So that gives us plenty of time to get back from La Jolla. I've asked Jack Keeter and Elizabeth Hawkes..."

"M'mm, who they?" She murmured sleepily. Jen didn't want to move, she was warm and comfortable and felt safe, but she did need to make some sort of contribution to this conversation, so she tilted her face up to look at him and to try and fool him that she was really paying attention. It sounded as if this lovely, infuriating man of hers had been busy making plans, while all she was doing was day-dreaming about the little person in her womb, and about being married. He was the one doing all the worrying about getting married; surely that was the bride's job? Hell, he could have it; she didn't want it. Besides, he's enjoying himself. Jen was totally unaware that she had one of the most expressive faces Rabb had ever seen; he could tell what she was thinking as each thought was mirrored by its own fleeting expression. He smiled, and gently planted a kiss on the top of her head.

"Keeter's an old academy and flight school buddy, and Elizabeth, Beth, used to be my RIO, you probably heard me mention Skates?" She nodded, "Well, that's her, Skates is her call-sign, but most folk these days call her Beth. I've asked them to come down to be our witnesses. Is there anybody that you want?"

"H'mmm? No... The only family I've got is my Dad, and you know I don't want him there. There are a couple of other girls that I'm friendly with at the office, but I couldn't trust them to keep their mouths shut until we are ready to go public."

"Are you sure?"

"M'mm." she agreed snuggling back into her former position.

"OK, then, so we're agreed, Mom, Frank, Keeter and Skates?"

"M'mm"

"Jennifer, I want to get this right. We can't really do it over. Once we're married, we're married. So tell me now if you want to postpone and organise a big fat wedding?"

"Uh-uh"

"Well then, ceremony at Falls Church Courthouse, then a table for all six of us at the Arlington Army Navy Country Club. OK?"

"M'mm."

"If you're going to stay so easy to please..."

"Oh, it's not that Harm; you make any and all the wedding plans you want. I'm thinking more about marriage."

"Yes?"

"Well... I know you put a lot of work into this place, and I know you love it, and I guess I love it too, but it's no good for a family, Harm."

"Why not?"

"Well there's only one bedroom, and I do not want to traumatise our daughter with our bed-time goings on, so we'd have to find somewhere to put the crib, and you know how cold it gets out here during winter nights. Then as the family gets bigger..."

"Oh, yeah?" He quirked an eyebrow.

"Yeah, and you can stop looking at me like that!"

"How do you know how I'm looking at you, you've got your eyes closed!"

"A woman knows these things! But seriously, we need to find a bigger, better place. With a yard, and a real fireplace and at least one extra bedroom for when your Mom comes visiting."

"How do you know she will?"

"Because from what you've said about her, she loves you very much, and she will surely want to come and see your daughter, her granddaughter."

"Why are you so sure it's a girl?"

"I am sure _she's_ a girl, because I am!"

"OK, that's logical." No, it's not, but I'm not going to argue the point.

"And that's one of the reasons I'm not interested in a big fat wedding!" OK, now I'm officially confused.

"You don't want a big wedding because you're sure that your little passenger is a girl? Right?"

"No... Because we have more important things to spend our money on than expensive and unnecessary ceremonies and parties." Well, that is logical!

"You know something? That's another reason to love you?"

"It is?" Jen sounded pleased.

"Uh-huh, not only are you beautiful, sexy, and smart, you're also practical."

"Yeah, know." Reminder to self, tell her that I love her, at least once every hour.

"Jen, you said about going public, when and how do you want to do it?"

"As soon as my new ID and name tags arrive. I don't want to make a huge bull-pen announcement, just walk in with my new name tags and see if anyone notices."

"New name tags? New ID?"

"Yep, for Legalman Second Class Jennifer Alison Rabb. I've already filed the requisition."

"You're changing your name to mine? You sure? You don't want Coates-Rabb, or to stay as Coates?"

"No! I'm not ashamed of loving you, I'm not going to hide that we are together, I'm going to be so proud to be your wife, that I want the whole world to know!" You're proud? My heart is nearly bursting!

"Jennifer Alison Coates, have I already told you today that I love you?"

"You did, but you could always tell me again, or better yet, you could show me."

So he did, both.


	5. Wings Like Eagles

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 5  
>Wings Like Eagles<strong>

"When we get out to the airplane, I will make sure you're strapped in tightly. Do you want me to go over the emplaning drill again? No? OK. But don't worry about it; I've explained that this is part of your aircrewman aptitude testing, so they're not expecting you to get it perfectly right, a touch of pre-flight nerves is almost expected. And I'll be with you every step of the way, OK?" As I will be for the rest of our lives. Damn' she even makes a flight suit look sexy!

Jen looked right at him, there was not even a hint of nervousness in her face, instead of fear or even apprehension her eyes were full of trust as she looked at the man with whom she had chosen to spend the rest of her life. "Got it, sir!"

"Good. Now listen to me very carefully, Petty Officer, if, I say if, things go wrong up there, which is just so unlikely, I will make any necessary decisions. If the worst comes to the worst I will say 'Prepare to eject! Mask on! Visor down!' I will give you a couple of seconds to do that and then I will say 'eject, eject, eject!', and I will pull the trigger. All you have to do is remember the safety briefing, keep your hands in your lap and let the seat and the 'chute do everything else. Remember, your seat will fire first and boost you clear of the airplane and then when you're clear, mine will follow. Once the 'chute opens, the ground will come up slowly at first, but will seem to rush up the last few feet. You will be coming down at about ten miles an hour, keep your feet together and let your knees fold and you'll be fine. I will be with you as soon as I hit the ground right next door."

"Yes, sir, I remember. You've already told me all this about thirty 'leven times." Yes, and I'll tell you another thirty 'leven times if that's what it takes to keep you safe! Dammit, why the hell did I ever think of this crazy way of getting us to California? I deserve to have my head ripped off! And I don't deserve Jen! How can I be so stupid as to put her at risk!

"Excuse me, sir?" The interruption came from a young Petty Officer 3, "Your lower altitude revised flight plan sir. Now cleared for between three and ten thousand feet, sir, as requested, and your flights bags have been stowed"

"Thank you, Petty Officer. Ready Coates? OK, let's go."

To the crew chief's patent exasperation, the walk round having already been completed under his supervision, Harm carried out his own painstakingly slow and thorough pre-flight walk round before he accepted the aircraft. Eventually he could find no further excuse for delay, and having seen Jen securely strapped in to her seat, he climbed into the cockpit and ran through the pre-flight instrument check in slow time, but this time necessarily so, as Jen was unable to corroborate his finding from her own instrument panel. At length, checks completed he powered the canopy closed and switching his radio mike to broadcast called Airfield Control, "Flapjack, this is Tomcat One-Four requesting clearance for taxi to runway three-six left."

Permission granted, he eased forward on the throttle and the Tomcat, its engines seeming just a little louder than the purr of its namesake rolled to the runway threshold. "Tomcat One-Four, you are cleared for take-off!" Throttles pushed against the gate, the afterburners roared into life and aircraft howled down the runway and surged into the sky.

The wheels almost kissed the tarmac at Miramar, just as they had at the re-fuelling stop at Wiley Point. Harm had been so aware of his precious passengers that he sweated his concentration into ensuring a smooth and gentle landing. Never again am I going to be so stupid as to risk our everything! Stupid, stupid, dumbass bastard!

Now safely on the ground he watched Jen with a mixture of relief, happiness and disbelief. Her face was glowing and her eyes were shining with the sheer thrill of the flight and the words tripped over themselves as she tried to convey her feelings,

"Harm! That was fantastic! I've only flown in passenger jets before, and I love the Stearman, but, wow! I can't wait for the flight back! Oh, sorry, sir, I didn't mean... I mean with you going on leave and all..." as Jen belatedly remembered the role she was supposed to playing.

"That's OK, Petty Officer, I'm glad you enjoyed the experience!" Oh, crap, I'm lying to her, I am actually lying to the woman I love! But she's getting the bug; she can't get the bug! I really hope you enjoyed it Jen, because that wasn't just your first fast jet, it was your last! This is the first time I'm glad she's not been to college otherwise I'd have her applying for Flight School! How the hell could I have put her at risk like that? What if we'd had to bang-out!

I'm not particularly happy either about her stripping out of her flight suit in the locker room. Sure, I'm used to being around female aircrew while they do exactly that, and it has never bothered me; I've seen Skates in her underwear times without number as she has changed from flight suit to uniform or back and I did advise Jen to wear a T-shirt and comfortable shorts under her flight suit, and she has, but it still didn't seem proper, or... decent. I know I'm being ridiculously jealous and possessive; the other guys aren't even looking at her, but still...

It was on his way out of the Operations Building, where he had received a cursory de-briefing, that he overheard an argument through a partially opened office door and against his will he found himself stopping to eavesdrop, "You're pregnant! I don't care what you say, Valkyrie, and I don't care how many waivers you sign! OPNAVINST is definite! Pregnant servicewomen are not permitted to fly in ejection seats! Now that's enough! You are grounded! Suck it up Lieutenant!" Oh, crap! I should have known that! I should have checked! Well, that settles it, we either fly back in a transport, or we fly civilian! Flying bug or no flying bug, that was Jen's last ride in a Tomcat! Or any fast jet!"

Rejoining Jen on the apron, he found her engrossed in the bustle of an operational air base, and bubbling over with curiosity. Her time on the _Seahawk_ had accustomed her to high intensity carrier operations, but this environment, although some activities were familiar, was sufficiently different to cause enough changes to pique her curiosity and spark a string of questions as they made their way to the motor pool, where he hoped to find transport to take them to the main gates, where he knew a rental car franchise just outside the base should be able to provide them with some form of vehicle.

Their search for on-base transport was successful; an obliging Marine Corps Sergeant gave them a ride to the main gate where a branch of a nationally known chain of vehicle rentals was located on Miramar Road. A short negotiation later, with their go-bags safely stowed in the trunk of their medium sized Ford rental, Harm and Jen set out on the short, 20 minute drive to La Jolla where Frank and Trish Burnett had their home on East Roseland Drive.

Jen was stunned at the size of the property; she vaguely knew that La Jolla was an expensive neighbourhood, but this... A three car garage, with a Ranger, A BMW and an Escort outside, all three of them late models, the Ranger was this years'! And the house! It was huge, a sprawling single storey white building with a red pan-tiled roof, occupying the corner of East Roseland and a short cul-de-sac where Harm halted the rental car.

"Harm, this can't be where your people live!" Oh, yes it can, and it is.

"Yep!"

"But you said your mom married a used-car salesman!" She did, but he got better. Oh, this is priceless; I love the look on her face. OK, I'm probably going to catch hell for teasing her like this, but what the hell.

"Yeah, he was when they first got married, but he got a couple of promotions over the last few years!" Like to Exec VP of one of the biggest motor manufacturers in the US. Better put her out of her misery, well, some of it, anyway.

"Jen, you have to remember that people on the west coast, particularly California, have a whole different idea of what suitable living space is. Out here, and down in Arizona, there are single ranches much bigger than the whole of Fairfax County, so the whole scale of living out here is much grander. Don't let it get to you; size isn't everything." OK let's see if that accidental on purpose Freudian slip makes a difference.

It did, Jen's look of anxiety faded and was replaced with one of sheer naughtiness, "That's easy for you to say, big boy!" God, that's wicked! Who on earth has been corrupting my sweet innocent Jen? Oh, yeah, that would be me. But hey, it worked, didn't it? She's not looking so worried now!

"Come on then, it's time to meet the folks! Oh damn! Now she's looking anxious again! No, that's a damn good attempt at a smile! She's trying to be brave; I love her more than ever just for that!

Jen waited until Harm had retrieved their bags from the trunk and was ready to turn to walk up to the house with him, but was stopped by his, "Hey, beautiful, don't I get a welcome home kiss?"

Jen looked round, thinking for a moment that Harm's mom had come out of the house to greet them, but then saw that his whole attention was riveted on her. "Of course you do," she smiled and cupping his face with her hands, she pulled him down to meet her as she stood on her tip-toes to meet him. Their kiss was not the most passionate they had shared, but it was very tender and sweet and Jen found it enormously comforting.

"Now," he said earnestly, his blue eyes boring into her brown ones, "remember what I told you; mom is very old fashioned and very formal. Treat her like you would... oh, Colonel MacKenzie and she'll be just fine with you. No, don't look scared, I'll be there to protect you!" I am going to be in sooo much trouble for this, but poor Jen is so nervous she's practically wetting herself. Still when they work out what I've done they'll both gang up on me and that'll break, no it'll shatter any ice between them.

Unlatching the double wooden gate at the side of the house, he led Jen up a flight of steps and around the end of a swimming pool onto a patio, where an older, but not really elderly, couple rose from the table where they had been sharing a pot of tea. Harm's mom was a lightly tanned, trim, fit-looking woman in her early to mid seventies, she was expensively and smartly but unobtrusively dressed in tan slacks and a silky-satiny white blouse open at the throat to reveal a single strand of pearls around her neck. Her husband, Harm's stepfather seemed to be a few years older, he too was wearing simple clothes, but the high quality of his dark blue pants and light blue polo shirt also announced their cost.

"Hi, Mom," Harms said in greeting, "I'm here, as promised."

"Hello, Harm," replied his mom as she reached up and kissed him, lightly - formally, Jen thought - on his cheek and turned towards Jen, a lively curiosity in her eyes, "And who is this young lady?"

"Mom, this is Petty Officer Jennifer Coates, she works with me at Falls Church. Petty Officer, this is my mother, Patricia Burnett, and her husband, Frank."

"G..good afternoon.. ma...ma'am... s...sir" Jen faltered, feeling betrayed at the cool, impersonal introduction.

Trish shot her son a puzzled glance. This was the first young woman he brought home since Diane all those years ago, and under those circumstances his introductions were strangely formal... and flat. Moreover, this woman - little more than a girl really - certainly didn't match the mental image of the 'Mac' she had heard so much about over the last five or so years, but had never met. This... Jennifer certainly didn't look like a hard-nosed Marine, if anything she looked terrified. Smiling she stepped forward, and held out a welcoming hand, "Jennifer it is _good_ to meet you." And then hearing a soft sigh from Harm she glanced across at him just in time to see the relief that had flooded his face replaced by an expression of assumed calm indifference, "Oh, _Harmon Rabb Junior_! That is just too bad of you!" and turning back to Jen exclaimed, "My poor child, he's awful! Come here!" and hastily converting her proffered hand into an embrace folded a now thoroughly bewildered Jen into her arms.

Frank Burnett grinned and whispered in an aside to Harm, "You are going to be in so much hot water..."

Harm's reply was equally quiet, "Yeah, I know, but can you think of a better way to introduce mom to her future daughter-in-law? But can you keep that little tid-bit of news to yourself, I want to tell her myself, no," he corrected himself with a rueful grin, "_we_ want to tell her ourselves."

"Uh-huh, when do you plan on doing that?"

"I haven't discussed it with Jennifer yet, I'll find out what she wants and then we'll decide."

Frank, who hadn't failed to notice the use of the plural instead of the singular pronoun, decided that this must have been a fairly lengthy engagement for Harm to have fallen into that pattern of speech and thought, so when he asked out of curiosity, "When did you two decide to tie the knot?" Harm's answer "Three days ago," shook him to the core.

Jen released from Trish's hug, to which she had responded as if on auto pilot, stood with her mouth opening and closing silently and a blank expression on her face. Trish, still holding Jen's hand looked at her with a gentle smile on her face and a chuckle in her voice, "For goodness sake child, stop calling me ma'am, you make me feel ancient; please, call me Trish! Did he tell you that I was some kind of Dragon Lady, all prim and proper, jealous and hostile?" she asked, and without waiting for an answer she continued, "Yes, he did! Just look at his face, like a little boy caught with his hand in the candy jar! Never mind, my dear, we'll have our revenge later; I'll show you _all_ his baby pictures

Harm winced; his mom was quite capable of doing exactly what she had just threatened. Trish smiled to herself; she had a far better, far sweeter revenge planned.

Jen's scowl, on the other hand seemed to suggest that somewhere in her mind, images of a blunt pen-knife and certain tender parts of his anatomy had cropped up. But her scowl faded as Harm smiled at her and Jen's own eyes softened as she gazed back at him

Trish looked quickly back and forth between the two and leapt to a conclusion. These two loved each other! That would explain why he had brought her clear across the country, and broken a seven year old habit. But, she thought, I won't spoil their fun, I won't let on to them that I suspect, they'll tell me in their own time, when they're good and ready. "Come on you two, come and sit down and have a cup of tea," she invited them, "and then I'll show you to your rooms."

Watching them over the rim of her cup, Trish saw that her son was truly happy, he had always had a ready, sympathetic smile, but she hadn't seen him like this, not since Diane's horrible death. And then to be falsely accused of her murder... she gave a quick involuntary shudder, hoping that no-one had noticed. Her heart had gone out to Jennifer as soon as she realised the trick that her horrible son had played on her, but she had soon realised exactly what he had done and why. It was not only to ease any tension between the woman he had loved and depended on all his life and the woman whom he now loved and with whom he would spend the rest of his life, but it was also a mechanism to help them bond in their shared disapproval of himself. It suddenly burst upon her that she, and Jennifer, had been deliberately played by that... that... that damn' manipulative lawyer! Ooh! He was going to pay for that in spades! But she couldn't help laughing to herself as she glanced across at her son; his rueful grin gave her the impression that he knew exactly what she was thinking. It was so good to have him home, happy... and... content... and whole again. And she knew just where to place the credit for that. She looked back at Jennifer, even if she had not been immediately drawn to the younger woman, she would have loved her just for healing her son.

Her son, who had pretty accurately read her thoughts smiled to himself. I know I'm in for a regular, old fashioned ear bending, so there wasn't much further damage could be done to me if I indulge myself in just a little more teasing this evening. "So, mom, who, and where, are your other house guests?" This should be good, let's see, a sudden family illness so they've had to rush back home to... Texas... or... Canada... or somewhere exotic.

"They're having a nap, son, they get a little tired during the afternoon. But they should be up and about before dinner." So, she actually does have other house guests. I must be slipping, I was sure they were just an excuse to stop me badgering her to go back east. They must be some old friends of hers, and pretty frail I'd guess, otherwise mom would have had them swimming or playing tennis, or golf. And that would make sense of the Escort outside. It's not exactly Frank's style, and it's just the sort of car a couple of oldsters would have, not too expensive to run, and not too dangerously fast.

"Old friends of yours then, mom?" he asked ingenuously.

"No, not really, I haven't known them all that long, but they're a nice couple."

Jen, regaining her composure, had been day-dreaming how to exact the maximum amount of pain from Harm without causing any permanent damage - she hoped that cut on his forehead wouldn't scar - found her ears perking up at the latest exchange between mother and son. All at once she discovered exactly from where, or rather from whom, Harm had got his suddenly revealed playfulness, and with the beginnings of a smile wondered just what devious game Trish was playing, and slightly more worryingly just what sort of family was she joining.

Trish still inwardly hugging herself with anticipation, chivvied her newly arrived guests to their feet and through the French Windows into the cool interior of the house, leading them through a succession of large rooms and along a hallway that to Jen seemed to stretch for miles before she stopped between two doors, one each side of the hallway at the far end of the house. "Harm, you're in your old room of course, and Jennifer, your room is just opposite, unless you and Harm are sharing?" Jennifer was uncomfortably aware of a blush that seemed to start somewhere in the area of her navel and went all the way up to the roots of her hair. "No, ma'am... er...Trish, thank you, we're fine with separate rooms."

Trish raised a slightly sceptical eyebrow but decided to say no more on the subject for the moment, "Harm, once you're both settled, show Jennifer where the bathroom is, and then join us in the family room. We dine at seven!" And with a warm smile, she left the two of them alone.

Harm raised a quizzical eyebrow at Jen, "So we're fine with separate bedrooms are we?" he asked with a gentle, teasing smile.

Jen put her arms around him and rested her head on his chest, "I know, it's dumb and I'm being stupid. But for some reason, I'm not quite comfortable with your mom _knowing_ that we're sleeping together."

He smiled and raising her face to hers he kissed her gently, and then placing his hands on her waist said, "Well the evidence is going to be damned hard to hide for very much longer," but then his smile fading just a little he asked her, "Jen when do you want to tell them about us and the baby?"

"Well, if we want them to have time to make travel arrangements, the sooner the better, I guess."

"This evening, then? After dinner?"

"M'mm, I guess."

He again kissed her gently, "OK, it's seventeen thirty hours now, I'll grab a quick shower and a change and that'll leave you the bathroom for nearly an hour. If I'm not in my room when you come out of the shower, I'll be just down the hall in the library, if you can't find me just holler, and I'll come and find you." The easy grin faded completely as he added solemnly, "I will, you know, Jennifer, I will always find you!"

Jen felt the prickle of quick tears, Dammit! What was it about this man that could make her so happy that she cried? "Go on take your shower", she laughed damply, "you smell like an old bearskin rug!"

Twenty minutes later, freshly showered and in cool clean shirt and slacks he made his way to the library, he knew that Trish had the complete works of Shakespeare, there was a niggling idea in the back of his mind that one of the sonnets, he couldn't remember which number, could be easily adapted to make his marriage vows.

Opening the door of the book-lined room, he stepped inside before he realised that the room was occupied. He saw, by the window, in one of the leather wing chairs, a petite blonde woman, her face veiled by her hair as she looked down at the infant nursing at her bare breast. Harm's shocked gasp of "Oh, I beg your pardon!" as he spun to make a rapid retreat was enough to make the woman hastily cover herself, and for her ice blue eyes to make contact with his own darker blue. Harm was out of the room and leaning back against the door as he tried to gather himself after such an unexpected encounter, when a belated shock of recognition ran through him; _Singer_! What the hell was _Singer_, of all people, doing in his mother's


	6. A Mother is Also Born

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 6  
>A Mother Is Also Born<strong>

Harm was in a full blown tail-spin. _Loren Singer_, here? I definitely detect my mom's hand in this, but how, why? Bracing himself, he turned and this time he knocked on the Library door, and waited for the voice to tell him come in. Yes, it was Loren Singer's voice. Taking a breath, he re-entered the room, she was there in a pale blue, denim, ankle-length skirt and a white blouse. In her arms she held a small, so tiny bundle wrapped in a soft pink blanket.

Yes, it was Loren Singer, but she looked... different. He had never seen her look as she did now. He was no stranger to the sight of her in civilian clothes, she had been a visitor, albeit an infrequent one while she and Sergei had been... what, romantically involved? Having a love affair? No, those phrases didn't fit in with the Loren Singer he thought he knew. A series of casual encounters? A one-night stand? Yes, those he could see her participating in, but ...

"Have you come to see your niece?" she asked in a soft, quiet voice, that was such a contrast to her normal, hard-edged delivery, and that was what gave him the necessary clue. Her face had lost that stern, pinched, waspish expression. He had always been vaguely aware that Loren Singer was an attractive woman, and the scarlet dress she had worn to the Roberts' house the Christmas before last had certainly, but subtly shown that she had a very good figure. Now, the added softness brought to her by, what, exactly? revealed for the first time that she was not just attractive she was beautiful. Feeling rather guilty on so many levels, for even noticing her beauty, he cleared his throat, and tried to distract himself

"Lieutenant..." he began.

"Hush, not so loud... Commander, you'll wake her." The voice was directed at him but the whole of Loren Singer's attention was focused on the face of her sleeping daughter.

Taking a seat in the wing chair on the opposite side of the window, no more than four feet from her, he tried again, but kept his voice quieter, "Lieutenant, no I didn't come to see my niece, I didn't even know you were in the house. I came looking for a book of Shakespeare's sonnets; there was something I needed..." He realised two things, firstly he was babbling, and secondly that she was smiling at him. Not the bitter, sarcastic grimaces that passed for her smiles back at Falls Church, but an honest to goodness, open friendly and amused smile. "But, now I am here, yes, I would like to see my niece, unless we're going to disturb her?"

"Not if we're quiet. With any luck, she'll stay asleep for the next couple of hours; anyway we can hope."

He slid off his chair and knelt on one knee and peered down at the tiny scrap of humanity in Loren's arms, he was just about to ask her if she had decided on any names, when the door to the Library opened and Jennifer, warily stuck her head around the door, "Oh, there you are, I was..." and was then extremely surprised, when he held a finger against his lips in the universal sign for silence. And then as her brain processed the messages her eyes were sending it, her mouth dropped open in a soundless "Oh" of even greater surprise.

"Jen, he whispered, come on in and say hello to Lieutenant Singer, and her daughter."

Jen who had seen but not really identified the woman with the baby in her arms, raised her eyebrows in interrogation, to which he replied with a helpless shrug. Jen walked across the thick carpet and knelt down alongside Harm and took his hand in hers. The gesture did not go unnoticed by Loren Singer; neither did the way in which the two leaned in against each other, their bodies unconsciously finding the right angles and alignment for maximum comfort and contact.

"Good evening ma'am," Jennifer managed; this is a weird situation she thought, I can't go around calling Harm by his name and Lieutenant Witch here ma'am, and then call Harm's mother Trish.

"Good evening, I think? Petty Officer."

Jen caught the change of timbre in her voice and tearing her eyes away from the baby looked into Loren Singers ice, but not icy, blue eyes.

"I think so ma'am. And ma'am? Congratulations, she's beautiful!" then covered with confusion in case she had just made a gaffe of titanic proportions, she added rather nervously, "that is if congratulations are in order, ma'am?"

"Aren't they always when a baby's involved? Yes, thank you." Lieutenant Singer's eyes widened very slightly and her lips just started to curve in a smile as she noticed Jen's right hand, in an instinctive move, cradle her own stomach. He smile broadened as she said, "I'd like you to meet Alexandra Maria..." and as she paused for effect, so her smile became even broader, "Rabb."

Harm hadn't even been aware that he had been holding his breath until he let it out in an explosive sigh, which almost drowned out Jen's "Oh!" of sheer surprise.

Harm, shot Loren Singer a suspicious glance, but decided that any interrogation could wait until later, as he nodded and said quite formally, Jen thought, "Welcome, Alexandra Maria Rabb, I'm your Uncle Harmon, and this lovely lady," he gently took laid his hand on Jen's shoulder, "is your Aunt Jennifer; but that's a lot of name for a little person to try and remember," he smiled, "so we're really just Harm and Jen."

Loren Singer shot a startled glance at him and was amazed to see that there were tears in his eyes as well as Jen's, and suddenly her own throat clogged, and she barely managed a choked, "Thank you." Before she rose hastily to her bare feet and almost ran out of the library.

Harm was stunned, "Wha... what did I do, now?" he complained. In answer Jen leaned in and kissed him tenderly, "You done good," she assured him.

Loren Singer made it back down the hallway to the refuge of the room she had been told to consider as her own for as long as she needed it. Closing the door she gently placed Alexandra in her crib and sitting down on the edge of the bed, she covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Damn him! Damn the whole damn family! It's not as if I had anything to cry about, really, I mean, I knew he was coning, Mrs Burnett told me, and I was expecting the same old cool interaction we've always had, but he seemed really pleased to meet us. I was expecting hostility, and he was... well, if not friendly, at least he wasn't unfriendly. Oh, this is ridiculous; my damn' hormones are dancing all over my emotions! And talking of emotions! If I never saw any two people in love, I saw them just now! The great Harmon... no stop it, you don't have to be a bitch any more. Harmon Rabb and Jennifer Coates, no, if they're in love than Rabb will find a way around the regs, or he'll just say the hell with them, and she'll be Jennifer Rabb anyway! She repeated the name to herself trying its sound. Yes it had a kind of ring about it, and if I'm not mistaken, the pregnant Jennifer Coates cum Rabb! Well, there's a surprise! Or is it? Think about it Loren, she's always looked at him like a wolf looks at a lamb. But how come none of us ever noticed him looking at her the same way? Has he managed to hide his feelings for her all this time, and kidded us all that it was MacKenzie the whole time? Is he _that_ good an actor? Or did she trick him the old way? Did she engineer an 'accidental' pregnancy? He'd feel duty bound to propose, if she did. No, she's not that devious... or she's a hell of a lot more devious than I've ever given her credit for - no she's too damn' innocent, or too damn' nice! So sweet that she makes me want to throw up at times! Mind you, it's been nearly five months since I left Falls Church and nobody, _nobody_ has missed me so how would I keep in the loop? Who cares? Screw them all! I wonder how they've kept their relationship secret? The Admiral would have a fit if he knew - oh God, that MacKenzie bitch! She'd be fit to be tied! Yes, I know... I know... I'll love everyone in the world right now if I have to, except Sarah Bloody MacKenzie! God, I'll be glad when these hormones readjust! I wonder; who did put that damn' file in her car? I know Rabb suspected me, but I didn't do it! Did anyone else put it in her car, or did she just claim it happened like that! Oh, hush, little one, don't wake up now darling, please, mommy needs to eat too you know, and my boobs aren't aching, so there's nothing there for you, hush now, come to mommy.

She picked her restless daughter up out of the crib and paced slowly up and down the room, while singing in a rather melancholy minor key, an old lullabye,

_Schlaf, Kindlein schlaf.  
>Der Vater hüt' die Schaf,<br>Die Mutter schüttelt's Bäumelein,  
>Da fällt herab ein Träumelein.<br>Schlaf, Kindlein schlaf._

Jen and Harm heard her unexpectedly soft voice as they passed her door on their way to the family room; Jen stopped and took hold of Harm's elbow, applying just sufficient pressure to stop him. "That's German, isn't it?"

"Yes,"

"She sounds incredibly sad... should I go in?"

"Just knock gently on the door, if she answers tell her that we're on our way down to dinner."

Jen's knock was little louder than a scratching, but it served to bring the former Ice Queen to the door, "Just a moment while I put her back down, please."

She was as good as her word and although her eyes were a little red-rimmed, she seemed to have recovered from whatever sent her flying from the library.

Trish and Frank were in the family room before them, Trish wearing a minor pout on her face as the three of them entered together. She had wanted to spring a surprise on Harm by producing Loren as if by magic, but she would have settled for being a fly on the wall when they met. To see them strolling into the room together was very poor third!

Frank was stood to a sideboard on which rested an array of drinks. Without asking Loren, he poured her a tumbler of mineral water, but when Jen asked for the same, a request not unnoticed by Loren, he cocked a meaningful eyebrow at Harm. A message Harm accidentally on purpose failed to notice.

"Well," twinkled Trish, "what have you children been up to all this time?"

"We've been introducing ourselves to my new niece." Harm said gravely, and with a certain amount of emphasis.

"Have you now?" asked Frank, sounding rather pleased.

"Oh, son, I am so glad! And so proud - of you both!" and then seeing the confusion as neither of the two young women seemed sure about to whom she was referring, she chuckled, "Oh, I'm sorry Jennifer, on this occasion I meant, Loren! Your time will come, I'm sure!"

Harm had just taken a sip of some very pale and very dry Fino Sherry, which left him choking as it went down the wrong hole. A mishap for which Jen was profoundly grateful as the distraction it caused prevented anyone from noticing her suddenly crimson cheeks, but not everyone was distracted, Loren Singer's eyes had stayed focused on Jen and had registered that blush. Those pale blue eyes again widened slightly and her right eyebrow shot to the top of her forehead as she registered the reaction and a slight smile settled on her face. Oh, I'd love to argue this as a circumstantial case - in front of a sympathetic Judge, that is. I am certain that Miss Jennifer Coates _is_ pregnant. I wonder when and if they'll come clean. My God! I wonder if that's why they've come here today!

Before Loren had any further time to pursue her train of thought, Trish was ushering them all in to the dining room. In deference to Harm's preferred diet, a preference which Jen was slowly beginning to follow, there was a wide selection of fresh fruit and vegetables and salads in various bowls while the heart of the meal was a vegetable curry with rice. For the inveterate carnivores, there was a platter of sliced, lean chicken breasts, and for Loren a small portion of liver.

Loren again noted that Jen avoided the alcohol that was on offer, as indeed did she, but she had observed on other occasions that Jen did enjoy a glass or two of red wine. I knew, I knew it! But... why is it so important to me? I couldn't use it to my advantage... even if I wanted to... and I don't... damn' hormones.

The meal went almost with a hitch, except for Trish issuing an ultimatum, after half an hour of listening to "Lieutenant," "Petty Officer", "ma'am" and "sir", she tapped the blade of her knife on her wine glass, and said, "I know you're all observing military protocol, like good little sailor boys and girls" even Harm blushed at the sarcastic and patronising tone she had chosen, "but you're giving me a migraine!" She favoured them all with a brilliant smile, with not a trace of a headache in it, "This is my table in my house, so I get to pick the protocol. As long as I'm not around, you three can call each other what you want, as long as you want, but as long as you are under my roof and in my hearing you will please use your names. Thank you!"

Harm took up the running, and walking around the table to stand behind Jen, he placed a hand on her shoulder, and as she reached up to cover as much of it as she could and turned her head to look up at him, he cleared his throat. "Well, seeing that we seem to be in the mood to make announcements, I have two or three things that I, that we, Jen and I, would like to say. Firstly," he turned towards Loren, "I would like to say," a squeeze on his hand made him look for a second into Jen's soft brown eyes, "No, I've been just been corrected again, _we_ would like to say to Loren, 'thank you' for the gift of Alexandra Maria and welcome to the family... to you both."

Frank's enthusiastic "Hear him! Hear him!" was almost drowned out by Trish's happy "Oh, yes! Welcome, welcome to you both!"

It was Loren's turn to sit with mouth open in a silent "oh" of surprise. I did not see that one coming! I didn't think he even liked me, and now he's saying welcome to the family? Wow!

"Secondly, Harm continued after the little buzz had died down, "It is with great pride and happiness that I can tell you that Jennifer Coates, has consented to be my wife and..." the rest of what he was trying to say was lost in Frank's roar of approval and Trish's squeal of happiness. The fuss took a little longer to die away this time, and Harm was eventually forced to imitate Trish and tap a knife against a glass. "As I was saying, or trying to say," he grinned, "the wedding, by special request of the bride, is at Falls Church courthouse a week from tomorrow at thirteen hundred hours, Victor, or one pm EST, and Jen and I would very much like you all to be there, that includes Alexandra Maria, and you of course Loren!" Ohhh, I definitely didn't see that one coming! Damn these hormones, or my allergies, or whatever the hell is making my eyes sting!

"And our third announcement, is quite apposite to what mom said a little bit earlier, just before dinner," he went on to explain as Trish looked puzzled, "We had just said that we had introduced ourselves to Alexandra, and you said, mom, that you were proud of us, Loren and I, and that Jen shouldn't feel left out because her turn would come. Well it is coming, in about thirty-six weeks!"

Frank and Trish sat staring in absolute shock at Jen, who was slowly turning red under their gaze, and it was left to Loren, to reach out across the table and say "Congratulations, Petty... er... Jennifer! I thought as much!"

Trish suddenly broke into giggles, "Oh my," she gasped, "oh my, 'we'll be fine with separate rooms. Ma'am'" she mimicked Jen's earlier comment. "Oh, I'm sorry, we're such an awful family, we've done nothing but tease you since you got here, child, but many congratulations, I was beginning to think that Harm would never get over... that Harm would never have any children of his own, I am so happy for you both! Frank, did you hear that? From being afraid that I was never going to be a grandmother, now I am going to be one twice in one year! Isn't it wonderful?"

"Oh I heard, I heard, alright," said Frank in a mock grumble, "the only problem is that if you've become a double Grandma, then I've become a double Granddad, and I'm not old enough for that yet!"

"Oh, hush up with your complaining," Trish told him fondly, "you're just as delighted as I am - and you know it!"

"Well... maybe I am... but just a little bit," he conceded with a gleam of humour in his eye.

"What about you, Loren," asked Harm on a serious note, "are you prepared to join our family and maybe add a little bit of sanity to the mixture?"

She looked up at him, suddenly feeling very small and vulnerable where she sat at the table, "I don't know... you're all very kind... and generous... but I don't know... I don't know if I can handle all this... I don't come from this..."

"Loren," Jen broke in on her disjointed morass of half sentences, "there's no rush, this isn't a time critical plea-bargain, the offer stays on the table, until you're ready with a definite answer. Look, don't rush into that answer, we can stay as long as we need up until Harm gets us a ride back to DC, but if you and Trish and Frank are coming with us, as a family, then I guess we travel as a family, right Harm?"

"Right! Harm's agreement seemed to be some sort of signal for the meal to finally finish. Loren returned to her room for a while to see to Alexandra's needs while the rest of hem cleared the wreckage from the table and completed the necessary kitchen chores.

Hanging up his now-damp tea towel, Harm, for once unsure of where his priorities lay, was uncertain what was the next step he should take, he wanted to talk to Loren to find out from her just what she was doing here, and what, if any was her angle. He was bound to talk to his mother and tell her what he knew about Sergei. Loren had obviously told her something, but despite the blonde woman's new and for her, atypical, behaviour, he had no idea of what sort of spin she might have put on whatever she had told Trish. And he needed to talk to Frank about the logistics of moving the tribe, as he was beginning to refer to them, from San Diego to Falls Church. He was also painfully aware that although Trish had appeared to be, and in fairness she probably was, overjoyed at their news, that he was due for some sort of lecture on being stupid enough to be caught by an unplanned pregnancy.

Part of his dilemma was solved when he saw Jen and Loren, back from changing and feeding her baby, move on to the patio, catching a look from Jen as they did so; a look that quite clearly said, back off! It is amazing just how well we communicate, when she isn't throwing things at me. But, damn! she was superb when she got mad, but I'll have to judge the provocation a bit better next time, I'm still not sure we've gotten all the ink out of the floor boards. Harm was distracted by his train of thought, which was rapidly approaching the town of Erotica, by an arm slipping around his waist, and he automatically moved his own arm so that Trish could close the embrace. "We need to talk, son." H'mm, that Mommy Dearest, wasn't a suggestion was it?

But his "Yes, mom, we do." was all he said.

"About a lot of things." Ouch, here it comes!

She led him into the family room, to where Frank sat on a couch waiting for them. He made room for Trish to join him, and draped an arm over her shoulder as she curled up next to him. Harm smiled at the sight, it's one of mine and Jen's favourite 'us time' positions, but it reminds me of how that same position frequently leads into other... er... activities. Gee thanks mom, I really don't need reminding of that right now! OK, let's see... "Mom, where do you want me to begin...?"

"Shall we save the best 'til last? That way we can all go to bed on a happy note!" Bed? What are you talking about mom, it's only nine-fifteen? Oh Crap! She's going to make this a long session. OK, deep breaths, ready? Ready or not, here it comes! "OK, I guess you do need to know about Sergei. Frank, this might make you feel a little uncomfortable. Are you sure you want to hear this?

"Harm, your Dad was a hugely important part of your mom's life, and we don't have any, well not many, secrets from each other. Besides, and it's something you're going to learn very soon, it's not 'your mom and I', it's 'we' and 'us'; we're in it together for the long haul, no matter what life throws at us."

"Yes, son, and that's something you might want to take to heart."

"Yeah," he grinned, "I think it's something I'm already learning. OK, well, as far as I have been able to find out when Dad went MIA he was made POW by the North Vietnamese, and they sent him to Russia..."

By the time he had finished the story, all that he knew, he was staring down at his clasped hands, afraid of the hurt he might see in his mother's eyes. In the silence that followed his words the ticking of the long-case clock at the end of the room sounded unnaturally loud. Then Trish broke the silence, "Harm, look at me, please."

He looked at his mother and saw that just as he had feared that her eyes were flooded. "Oh, mom, I'm sorry I couldn't find an easier way to tell you..."

"You just hush up now, Harmon Rabb, these aren't real tears! I'm glad you told me, and I'm glad that your father found a little peace and happiness with his Russian... wife... after he had been through so much pain and loneliness for so long. I know that if there had been any possible way he could have gotten home to us, he would have found it. I had some of Sergei's story, second hand, from Loren, but I guess she didn't know the whole of it, and maybe she wasn't up to being impartial. I only wish that I could have met Sergei. Does he look very like his father?"

"Not really, mom, he's much shorter than I am or than Dad was, and he's got sort of sandy-coloured hair, but he does have the trademark blue eyes. But," he said regretfully, "I get the feeling that we won't be seeing him again any time soon."

"No, I guess what with the way he left Loren holding the baby - literally - that we won't."

"And mom, the way he treated Loren, running away from his responsibilities, I'm not sure that I want to see him again. A man just doesn't do that!" OK, that actually did go well; it went much better than I'd hoped for, poor mom, though having to go through all that. Now this is going to be tricky, "Mom, talking about Loren, what is she doing here? When I found her in the library I thought you must have spiked your afternoon tea with something!"

"Well, like I told you, I tried to call you at your office, oh back in early March, and I got no answer from your office, and then not from your apartment, and not even from you cell; 'phone. I kept calling your office, and then one day that Sarah MacKenzie you talk about so much... no... that you used to talk about so much... answered your 'phone, she'd been trying to get hold of you as well. She must have known about Loren being pregnant, and gave me her number, and suggested that you might be with her. Why would she do that son? Just from seeing the way you act around Loren, it's pretty plain that you don't even like her all that much. Was Sarah jealous, is that why you're with Jennifer now?" That was a definite question, or questions.

"Mom, Mac and I have never had a relationship. I thought for a very long time, for years, that we could make a go of it, but every time we got close, she either backed off or pushed me away. I've come to realise that's what she does. She sets up a situation and when it gets intense she gets scared and runs away. In her own way she's as bad as Sergei, except that she uses emotional not physical distance. As for why she told you she thought I might be with Loren, I have no idea at all, unless she thought I was Alexandra's father, but how she came to that conclusion is just one more thing that I don't know." Unless she was just being spiteful, trying to get to me through mom... "As for not liking Loren... I'm not sure that's totally true either. It would be more truthful to say that I don't really know her enough to like or dislike her. There are a lot of things I do like about her, but they're all to do with her professional life, and OK, there are some aspects of her professional life of which I'm not a great fan. Maybe I could be blamed for not knowing her on a personal level, but... she's different here than she was at Falls Church. Back east she's closed off to the rest of the world; she's got her walls so damn' thick and high that it's very hard to get through or over them to get to know her. She's driven, very ambitious, single-minded almost to a fault,and God knows I can understand that, but she's more than that, she's ruthless even, and God help those who get in her way. At times she seems happy to climb her way to the top using the bodies of those she slaughtered along the way as her stepping stones. At work, they've got a whole raft of nicknames for her, and they're not particularly complimentary, the Ice Queen, Lieutenant Witch, the Wicked Witch of the East, are some of the more polite ones. But now, I guess out here she's opened up, seems... happier... content?"

"Harmon, I'm going to tell you something now. Something that no man I've ever met really understands and perhaps a lot of women don't understand. When a woman goes into that delivery room, two beings are brought into the world; not only is a child born, but a mother is also born. Try and think that one through, son."


	7. The Walls of Jericho

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 7  
>The Walls of Jericho<strong>

Loren and Jen had each taken a cup of decaffeinated coffee out on to the patio, and had unconsciously chosen chairs that placed the table between them. Both had turned their chairs so that they were now both looking out over the swimming pool and out to sea rather than facing each other. Neither said anything, Jen because she wasn't quite sure how, without giving offence, to ask the questions that were eating away at her. Loren because she was a savvy enough lawyer to know that staying silent was a proven way to lure a witness or a suspect into talking, sometimes unguardedly.

Eventually it was Jen who broke the silence, "Loren... ma'am, what are you _doing_ here?"

"Alexandra's not my first child." Her answer seemed to be such a complete _non sequitur_ that Jen was silenced by surprise. "I was born and raised in Berlin, Ohio. Do you know what that means?"

"No."

"My family was, still is, Amish. Old order Amish. The whole thing. For me and my sisters - all seven of us - that meant the dark dress, long sleeves, hair always pinned up and always, always covered. No electricity, no phones, no music, except for sings after church. We went to school only until we finished eighth grade, and then we started work, and the wages we got all went in to the family purse. An Amish girl lives with her parents until she marries, and then goes to her husband." Loren drew a breath, "I was looking forward to getting married, getting out of that house; my father didn't have the gentlest temper in the world and we didn't know any better, we thought it was normal. There is a tradition of what happens in the home, stays in the home, so we grew used to slaps, then as we got older, the slaps started to become kicks and punches, and they got harder and harder as we got bigger. I think he treated mom the same, but I can't forgive her for not protecting us, especially when we were so small, when it all began. I grew up hating him and her, but Amish kids can never say that, they just do as they are told, especially the girls. You probably can't believe how much power the male head of the family has in that sort of society. Kids, especially girls, just don't rebel. There is another tradition where Amish teenagers are tolerated for a year or so if they kick over the traces," her smile was the old cynical, twisted one of Falls Church, "provided they don't kick too hard. I did, I got pregnant. My family kicked me out, and the whole community shunned me. I became a non-person, even the father of my child refused to recognise me when I saw him in the street. I did the only thing I could, I left town and I went English - that's what they call the modern world, English. It was tough for a pregnant seventeen year old to get a job, when she hadn't even been to High School, even working as a dishwasher in a greasy spoon. Anyway, I was broke, I had nowhere to live, I was all alone in a whole different world and I was terrified. The stress got to me, and I lost the baby."

"Oh, ma'am, I'm so sorry..." Once again Jen's hand was laid on her abdomen.

"That's what gave you away, Petty... Jen, what you just did, with your hand... I did the same thing when I was carrying Alexandra, and... Anyway, after I lost my baby I swore that I was never going to be put in that position, or anything similar to it, ever again. I found a dingy one room apartment that I could just about afford, I dodged social services, and I enrolled in a local high school, and I graduated. Then I got a break. A navy recruiter I went to see talked me out of enlisting, and because of my SATS got me into college on navy funding provided I joined the NROTC. I graduated, got commissioned and went for the law. Oh, not because I wanted to serve humanity, or become a force for good, or to make a change but because in navy terms it's a pretty small pond and I could become a pretty big fish - a pretty cynical reason, I guess. So I became a lawyer; a tour here in San Diego and a couple of sea duties later, I was appointed to Falls Church. It was an opportunity for me to shine in the DC spotlight. I identified a target, I developed an ambition, I was going to become the first female JAG, ever and I didn't care who I stepped on or who I had to suck up to, just to be that. I was going to be so secure that I could do anything I wanted. And then I could maybe even start thinking about a family of my own. All that time from when I was seventeen, I hardly ever dated; I had escorts for formal balls, sure, and even to the opera or theatre, but no boyfriend. I did try a couple of time - remember that damn' bracelet? He was one of the tries, and every time I failed, I just dug a deeper trench and set out some more barbed wire. So no more love life for me, no-one was ever going to be allowed to hurt me again. And then I met someone... no, I never dated him, but he seemed to care about me, even to worry about me, tried to help me, tried to advise me, but I did what I had become very, very good at: I shut him out. But," she added reflectively, "he just kept on trying to help the wicked Lieutenant Witch - what, you think I don't know what people call me? - anyway I got the feeling that he cared, not in a romantic way, he was way too fixated on somebody else, but that he was trying to help me, just because that's what he did. Then later, when I met Sergei, it seemed he cared too and shared some of the same ideas, but I guess I was wrong about that, huh? Some freaking smart lawyer gal there wasn't I? Ugh, this coffee's gone cold; shall I get you a fresh cup too?"

Loren returned a few minutes later, not just with fresh coffee, but with a couple of bulky sweaters and offered one to Jen,, "Here put this on, it soon gets chilly out here once the sun has gone down. You asked me what I was doing here. Being rescued, I suppose. I did a Sergei; I ran away from Falls Church, I didn't run to San Diego to my family as I let everyone think. I just ran." An apparently unconnected thought occurred to her, "You knew, didn't you? Aboard the _Seahawk,_ you were the first to guess. You didn't really buy that sea-sickness story did you? Maybe you should be the lawyer, you seem to be a hell of a lot smarter than I am!"

"Let's just say I had my suspicions, ma'am. But it took me a couple weeks to figure it out. It sounds to me like you had me date-stamped and filed away within a few minutes." Jen smiled shyly, "So, perhaps I'm not the smart one after all."

"H'mm, maybe. It wasn't going to be a problem anyway, I decided that I was going to have a termination, nothing, especially not a baby, was going to get between me and my goal, but then Commander... er... Harm said something to me on the COD when I got thrown off the _Seahawk, _now that was a ding in my service record, or so I thought... and then Lieutenant Sims... well there was something she said to me about the way she felt after losing her baby... and I remembered how I felt after the miscarriage and I just couldn't do it, I had an attitude adjustment and decided to go through with the whole pregnancy and single navy mom thing. I know it's going to be tough, but we'll do it, Alexandra and me. I guess I've got a different ambition now. Being the JAG just doesn't seem all that important any more, being a good mom does. Anyway, I ran here to San Diego, I rented an apartment, got a phone organised, leased a car, and got everything squared away with the OB/Gyn at the Navy Health facility here. But here's the thing: I had saved what I thought was a good amount, during my pregnancy, but I hadn't realised just how expensive it would be in San Diego. I've sub-let my apartment in Georgetown until I return to duty, so I had nowhere else to go and I was struggling. Then when Trish called me a few weeks ago, out of the blue, she caught me on a bad day and I just unloaded on her. I called her and her whole family a whole load of names that she didn't deserve. She's not Sergei's mother, what he did wasn't her fault, but I was just so mad at the whole damn' world I lashed out at the nearest target and Trish fit the description that day. I don't know how she did it, how she found me, maybe I told her when she asked, or maybe I was just so mad I let it slip, but the next thing I knew she was hammering on my door and threatening to break it down if I didn't answer. Then she didn't really give me much choice, the next thing I knew the bump and me were living here, and Frank's lawyers sorted out me short-terming the lease on the apartment. I gotta admit that not having to pay rent is a real big relief. I had no idea that babies were so expensive! There is just one thing I need you and Comm... and Harm to know: Alexandra's last name - it was Trish who wanted her called Rabb, I was going to put her name down as Zhukov, but Trish said that no matter what Sergei called himself, he was the son of Harmon Rabb, and that her husband, she meant Harm's Dad, would want his granddaughter to have his name. But whatever, in the short time I've known her she's been more like a mom to me than my own ever was! I know you don't like me and you probably don't trust me, hell, I've never given anyone at JAG any reason to like me, but believe me when I say that my staying here with Frank and Trish wasn't my idea, but I am so very grateful that they did force me to become their guest. Poor Frank, Trish even made him to go into the delivery room with me. He says the bruises will heal one day!"

To say Jen was amazed at the depth to which Loren had revealed herself would be putting it lightly. But what the blonde woman had told her, more, far more maybe than she had intended, gave so much insight into the person that Loren Singer had been, but she now seemed so different from her previous self. Had it been a gradual change throughout her pregnancy, or had it just happened in the...

"Oh God, Loren! I'm so sorry, we've all been so caught up in our own crap, and how you and Alexandra might be affecting us that we clean forgot to ask you! Just when was she born? And how big? And..."

Loren was as pleased as any new mom to answer questions about her baby and with a huge smile, no, a huge grin on her face, said, "Oh-two-thirty-two hours Tuesday just past, she was 7 pounds six ounces, and eighteen and a half inches long. In other words, just perfect."

Jen could not help but smile at Loren's obvious pride in her daughter, and remarked in a teasing voice, "Yeah, but she'd have been just as perfect if she'd weighed eighteen and half pounds and had been seven and a half inches long, wouldn't she?"

Loren gasped in shock and was about to verbally blast Jen from the face of the planet, when the absurdity of the image Jen had created burst upon her. The outrage that she had felt was displaced by her huge shout of laughter that was wholeheartedly shared by Jan.

"Oh," Loren wept, mopping away tears of laughter, "You have no idea what having a baby that size would do... and I am going to make you pay for saying that!"

"Harmon, I'm going to tell you something now. Something that no man I've ever met really understands and perhaps a lot of women don't understand. When a woman goes into that delivery room, two beings are brought into the world; not only is a child born, but a mother is also born. Try and think that one through, son."

Harm looked at his mother, his ears had heard what she had just said, but his brain, usually razor sharp was taking its own time to puzzle through her words, "OK... I guess I kind of know... that being a parent changes things... I'm sort of feeling that way already with Jen..."

"Yes, son, it changes things for a man, for a father, but huge as those changes are they are nothing compared what happens to a woman when she gives birth. I'm not just talking about physical changes, but really deep, really significant change. I've only known Loren for a very short time, but when I first met her, she reminded of some small frightened creature, backed into a corner and showing her teeth so that the big bad world would just leave her alone. She was in such bad need of a friendly shoulder... no... she was like every woman in her situation, she needed her mom. I don't know anything about her past life, but I reckon it hasn't been too easy, and I guess this was just maybe one straw too many. Anyhow, I didn't give her much choice; I told her she needed to behave herself, be a good girl and do what she was told. Well, she did, not without some snarls and snaps, but we eventually got her back here, and she locked herself away for nearly a whole day, and I swear she was still as sulky as a bear when she finally came out for some food, and she stayed that way right up until Tuesday morning. When we went to see her after she'd rested and cleaned up she was sat up in bed with little Alexandra and she gave as such a smile..." Trish sniffed, and started to fumble in her purse, but then smiled as Frank wordlessly offered her a large white handkerchief. "I don't push her Harm, she's welcome to go anywhere or do anything she wants as long as she's under this roof. She came home yesterday and I swear apart from meal times, she's hardly spent a second away from her baby. This time when she's talking to Jen is the longest I've seen her away. No, she's not being an unnatural mother; she's got the baby monitor in her pocket!"

"Well, mom, I can't help but tell you it was a hell of a shock when I walked into the library and saw her there, but after my heart started beating again, I could tell that she'd changed somehow, her face seemed less... sharp... less peevish... softer... I don't know exactly, and her voice too, it was less shrill..." He laughed, "Yeah, I think I get it, like she'd been re-born!"

Trish just smiled her agreement, but added on a warning note, "Harm, some of the changes are hormonal, they may or they may not last too long, but I think you'll find that there has been some permanent change, so play nice, now, OK?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"There is just one thing more, Harm. The baby's name. It wasn't Loren's idea. It was mine and I had to argue long and hard for her to agree. You see, it doesn't matter what name Sergei uses, he was, is, your father's son, and that makes him a Rabb, and I know your father would want his granddaughter to have his name. So I asked Loren to do that as a special favour to him. Now to change the subject completely, tell me all about your Jennifer, she seems such a lovely girl..."

"Mom, she's the best thing that ever happened to me, since... since..."

"Since Diane?"

"Yes, I was trying to say that, but I couldn't just come out and say it. I don't want to be disloyal to Diane, but while what we had was a good, a very good thing, and if I hadn't been too wrapped up in my flying and had had the sense to ask her earlier, you might have been a grandma years ago, and maybe, Diane..." He choked, the memory of Diane slumped in her car in her bloodstained summer whites was still very vivid and very painful.

"Oh, Harm, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... You can't go there, Diane's death was not your fault, you mustn't blame yourself either for anything you did, or that you didn't do. But I had to ask, son. It wouldn't be fair for you to marry anyone else, especially a girl like Jennifer, if you're still in love with Diane."

"Mom, Diane got me through some of the blackest days in my life. After I crashed, when it was doubtful whether I'd ever walk again or be able to stay in the Navy, let alone fly again, Diane was the one who got through my walls, and wouldn't let me lose faith in myself, I can never, and I ought never, to forget that. I can't recall if I ever told you, but that day when Diane's ship docked, and she was in such a hurry to get off, well, she was coming to meet me. I was going to take her to Grams's and I was finally going to ask her to marry me, I had a ring in my pocket. I was that much in love with her. But that was then, this is now. Diane is gone, she's a wonderful memory I have, and I'll never forget her. She had a huge part in making me who I am today, the very lucky man that Jennifer has for some unknown reason fallen in love with and has said that she'll marry. I couldn't be who I am, who Jen loves, without having had Diane in my life, but now she is just a loved memory, and every so often, I'll pull it out and give it a shine, so it doesn't fade away, and I'll remember how we were, and even grieve a little, but no, I am not still in love with Diane."

Trish's eyes had again filled with tears and again Frank gave her his handkerchief. Trish knew how much her son had erected barriers not just against the world of today, but against the ghosts in his past. She still didn't know everything that he had experienced, there were some things that mothers didn't need to know, but her son had returned from his teenage foray to Vietnam changed in some profound and disturbingly dark fashion. But now, with this new young woman in his life there were signs that he was at last letting go of at least some of his ghosts. She did not want to cause him any further pain, but there was one more question she needed to ask him. "Harmon, have you told Jennifer about Diane?"

"No, not yet."

"You must tell her, and you must tell her before you're married. You can't enter into marriage with a secret of that sort."

"I know, mom, it's one of the things that I mean to do while we're here. Diane is the only other girl I've ever brought home to meet you, and I need to let Jen know that, but without making it seem that she's somehow a second-best, a second choice. I'm just having difficulty in finding the right words and the right time to tell her."

In the event Harm was spared the need to find the right words and time. Shortly after finishing his talk with Trish and the silent but supportive Frank, Jennifer and Loren returned from the patio, thankful despite the chunky sweaters they wore, to be out of the night air. Loren had said a yawning good night and made straight for her bed, all too well aware that Alexandra would be demanding to be fed just about now, if the ache in her breasts was any indication, and certainly again in just another couple of hours.

Jen disappeared into the kitchen and returned shortly with mugs of hot chocolate for the four of them. The conversation was desultory, and trivial as the time difference between the east and west coasts caught up with Harm and Jen and they were soon yawning almost openly. Trish gathered up the mugs and despite their protests chivvied them off to their beds, saying in a stage whisper to Jen, "You know, Jen, it really doesn't matter to me in which room you sleep. But I warn you, that boy of mine is a slippery customer, don't let him get away." Her triumphant smile would be sufficient proof in any court, Harm thought, of the satisfaction she had obtained through putting them both to the blush and in getting in the last word of the night.

He showered quickly, and was about to slide between the sheets when there was a soft knock at his door; a knock he had been half expecting. He was also half-right, it was Jen in a pair of his old boxers with a tie-waist and one of his old academy T-shirts. What he hadn't expected was the puzzled look on her face, or, and his heart sank as he recognised it, what she was holding in her hands.

"Harm," she said in a slightly puzzled tone, "Colonel MacKenzie's always been a Marine, hasn't she? So how come when I was putting away some of my stuff I found this picture of her as a Navy Lieutenant."

He held his hand out to her and drew her down to sit beside him, and taking one side of the picture frame in his free hand, and letting her keep hold of the other edge, he said, "Jen, that's not Mac. Mac's very like her to look at, and maybe that's why I thought for a long time that I loved Mac...This is Diane, and she was a much finer person than Mac can ever be..."

By the time he had finished telling her all about his love for Diane and that she was the only other girlfriend he brought home, and how she had been so brutally and needlessly killed, he was not far from tears, while Jen's tears flowed down her cheeks in an unbroken stream. He finished his narrative with much the same words as he had tried to explain his feelings to Trish earlier that evening, and finished with, "that's how things are Jen, I'm sort of shop soiled, and I'm sorry that I come with all this baggage. and all these ghosts, and that you weren't my first love..."

"Oh, shut up you dumbass." she scolded him gently as she dried her tears, "If Diane hadn't taught you to love, then you wouldn't, you couldn't have loved me. She opened up your heart so that your love could spill out all over me. I'll always owe her for that. I'm glad that she was your first love, but I intend to be your last."

She stood up, put out the light and returned to his bed, determined to show him how very, very serious she was about her intention. Their love-making was a long, slow, tender and healing experience, leaving both of them satisfied and asleep. Even Alexandra's hungry cries just half-an hour later failed to disturb them.


	8. The Ties That Bind

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 8  
>The Ties That Bind<strong>

The warmth and comfort that were the after-glow of successful, gentle love-making were proof against Alexandra's noisy 2.00 am demands, but the cries marking her need for further nourishment at 4.00 am were more than capable of penetrating the ears of Harm and Jen. "Whassup? Wha' time 'sit?" mumbled Harm as he groped for the switch on the bedside lamp, trying to work out at the same time just what had caused him to wake.

"S'Alexandra, wants her mommy", Jen's drowsy voice came from the area of his shoulder, her favourite pillow.

"Uh-huh, but's only four clock..."

"You'd better get used to it... Dad." Jen's sounded more alert, and the teasing, or perhaps threatening, note in her voice brought Harm to a state approaching full consciousness.

"Huh, why?"

"She's a new baby, she doesn't know, or care what time it is, all she knows is that she's hungry and she wants to be fed."

"So...?"

"You weren't under the impression that she," Jen guided Ham's hand to her midriff, "is going to be any different, were you?" Jen asked, the note of mischief evident in her voice.

Harm could not help but respond in the same spirit of mischief "Our daughter will be the epitome of decorum and good behaviour," he solemnly intoned, "She will go to sleep the instant we put her down in her crib and she will stay asleep until the second we pick her up. She will not imitate an air-raid siren at oh-God-hundred hours and her diapers, even if full, will not give off unpleasant odours. I have spoken!"

Jen giggled at his assumed pomposity, "Yeah... right. Dream on!" but then sobering, she asked him, are you able to talk seriously now, or...?"

"Well, I'd rather go back to sleep, but," and his arm went around her to gather her even closer, "If you need to talk about something, then let's talk. Aah, that's better!"

"Do you mean this?" she asked, the giggle not far away from her voice.

"No!" He responded, removing her hand from where it was trespassing, "I thought you wanted to talk, not molest me!"

"Oh, I always want to molest you! What did you mean, then?"

"Listen!"

"I can't hear anything... oh."

"Yes, peace... or it would be if I wasn't sharing my bed with a shameless hussy!"

"But I like being a shameless hussy, and I like sharing your bed!" she pouted.

"And I like sharing it with you! And have I told that I love you, today?"

"No, you haven't... I knew there was something wrong with the morning!"

"In that case Jennifer Coates, I love you. There, is that better?" he ended his enquiry with a kiss to the top of her head. It was the only part of her his lips could reach without a major readjustment of their positions, and he was too comfortable to make the required effort.

"It will be in just a second," she said, "I love you too! There we're all set for another day now." He could feel her smile against his chest, triggering his own smile in reply "Hey, we were supposed to be talking - you side-tracked me!" she accused him.

"Well if I did, it didn't work very well, did it? OK, oh moon of my delight, on what subject did you wish to address your humble and adoring servant?"

"Oh, hush up and stop your nonsense!" she produced a more than fair imitation of Trish's voice and intonation.

He shuddered theatrically, "Don't, don't ever do that to me again! Especially when we're in bed together, it could scar me for life! And if it'll stop you doing it again, I surrender, what do want to talk about?"

"Lieutenant Singer," she replied the amusement gone from her voice, "Or Loren, I should say."

"H'mm, what about Loren?"

"I don't get it," Harm could feel the frown against his chest, "you never seemed to like her, but today you invited her into your family. You'd better not be playing some kind of devious game."

"Jen, there's no game being played, none at all. I didn't invite her into the family. Mom had already made her a part of it, I just put it into words, so she knew that mom, Frank and me were all reading from the same page."

"OK, but why?"

"I guess that mom took her in, because she saw someone who was all alone and struggling and who needed help. That's what moms do, isn't it? Oh, Jen, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"No, it's OK, it's just these damn' hormones! Go on..."

"Well that's it, mom saw someone who needed help..."

"And you? What about you?"

"Jen, I'm the third Rabb in a row to grow up without a father. I've told you how my father went MIA in 'Nam when I was six, and never came home again. His father, Grams Sarah's husband, was shot down and killed during World War 2, before dad was born, and my Great Grandfather was killed in France in World War 1. Now we have another Rabb with no father. I know how that goes, and I'm not about to let that happen to Alexandra, so if I can, and if Loren decides to stay with the family, I'm going to try and fill that gap as best as I can. Dammit, she's done it again!"

"Who's done what again?"

"Mom! That's who! You just accused me of being devious, but compared to her I'm just an innocent lamb waiting to be shorn! We are definitely going to have a talk about this little stunt of hers!"

"What stunt?" Jen asked impatiently, giving him a little shake.

"Mom got Loren to name her baby Alexandra Rabb, because she knew damn' well just how I'd react to another Rabb with no father! She played me!" Another thought struck him, "And she's played Loren! Whew, I don't know whether I want to be anywhere in the same state as Loren if she figures out how Mom handled her!"

"How do you mean, played Loren?"

"Well, Loren's always been this hard-ass modern woman, 'I can open my own doors', 'I'm quite capable of carrying it', and all the rest of that crap. I'd bet a sizeable sum that she hasn't realised how mom manoeuvred her into a position where I'm going to be looking after her and Alexandra!"

"M'mm, but you've been looking out for her for quite a while though, haven't you?"

"Huh?"

"Oh, very elegantly put, but you're not fooling me one bit. Now, what did she say about Falls Church? Oh yes, 'he seemed to care about me, even to worry about me, tried to help me, tried to advise me, but... I shut him out...he just kept on trying to help the wicked Lieutenant Witch...' And don't try to tell me that wasn't you, because she also said that you did it just because it's what you did, and it's what you did for me too, that first Christmas; you cared, you left your friends and you came looking for me to stop me from ruining what was left of my life. So, maybe she didn't name any names, but I knew who she was talking about. She probably won't show it, she'll probably try to shut you, shut all of us out, when her hormones settle down, but I think she appreciates what you tried to do for her even back then. Harm, Loren is in a very fragile place right now, so even if Trish did finesse you into some kind of deal about looking after Loren and Alexandra, we can't back out, and we can't let her run away again."

"What's with this 'we', Jen. I don't recall anyone saying that you were included in the Loren thing."

"Damn straight I am, it's a given. The only time anyone would mention my name would have been to include me out. But... I reckon if the Loren cactus grows her spines back, we're not in for an easy ride!"

"That's my girl, always the optimist!"

"No, just being realistic," she murmured, and then with a renewed interest, "What _did _you say to her on the COD, that made her change her mind about having the baby?

"She told you about that? Whoa, that must have been some girl-talk out there on the deck!"

"Yes, it was, but stop trying change the subject! What did you say to her to make her change her mind?"

"H'mm, you know _why_ I said it?"

"Uh huh"

"Well... I said if she didn't want the baby, she should give it up to me for adoption."

"If that is why she decided to have her, then I think she's changed her mind. I don't believe you could separate them now with a pry-bar!"

"Yeah, I know. My mom isn't the only devious one around here!" he said smugly.

Jen smiled to herself. You're not devious; you are so easy to read, like an open book. But you are kind, loving, caring and considerate, and it's just one of the thousands of reasons I love you. I suppose I'd better tell him that out loud. "Harm... Harm?"

There was no answer, and laying her head on his chest again, she heard the reason in his deep relaxed breathing. Squirming in an effort to get just a little closer to him, she closed her eyes and was almost instantly lost in a dream about a tall, dark-haired and blue-eyed jet jockey.

Tired as he was, Harm must have been drifting back towards consciousness when the banshee wail of a hungry baby jerked him bolt upright in his bed. Ignoring a muttered protest from a rudely awakened Jen, who'd just had her favourite pillow jerked out from under her head, his hand scrabbled at the nightstand, searching for his sidearm, before he fully remembered where he was, what was happening and that his service pistol was safely under lock and key in Washington. He drew his knees up towards his chest and putting his elbows on his knees buried his face in his hands as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

Jen giggled at the sight of his bewilderment, and looking at the alarm clock on the nightstand on her side of the bed, "Oh God," she groaned flopping down to lie flat on her back, "It's only just six o'clock! _Your_ niece," she added accusingly, "Has not only got a great pair of lungs, she also seems to have a good appetite!"

"Hey, remember, in a few days - a week from today that she'll be your niece too!"

"I know, but I'm going to milk this last week for as much as I can get out of it! Hey, what are you doing! No, put me down! What are you doing? Stop it!" Her protests finally stilled as he made a thorough job of kissing her.

"Good morning, I love you," he smiled, as the lack of oxygen finally broke them apart.

"That isn't even a sentence," she replied, but her eyes were smiling as she critiqued his last words.

"Yes, it is," but his own smile robbed his words of any malice or hurt, "It's a life sentence."

They stood for a few minutes, saying nothing, but enjoying their contact with each other, her arms around his neck, and his hands on her waist, and his head inclined so that their foreheads just touched.

Eventually Jen sighed, "I need to go..." and slipping out his hands and letting go of his neck, she walked towards the bedroom door, exaggerating the sway of her hips, where she knew his eyes would be fixed.

Loren Singer sat on the end of her bed, her eyes fixed on the face of her daughter as she latched on to Loren's nipple and started sucking. The decrease in pressure was almost immediate as Alexandra sucked greedily at the source of her food. Loren began to hum the minor key melody that Jen had found so sad yesterday, but Loren hadn't even realised that she had remembered the lullaby from the early days of her childhood, until prompted by the need for something to sing to Alexandra. The old German words and the tune had surprised her by tripping off her tongue. Thinking back to those early days in Ohio, it was no wonder that the only lullaby she had learned from her mother was so melancholy. Her mother had been trapped in a marriage to a violent man, and unlike her rebellious second daughter had been culturally unable to break free. Not, Loren recalled, that she hadn't received a push that helped her break the chains of tradition, custom, family and church. But, she smiled as she shifted Alexandra to her other breast, there would be no breaking the ties that bound her to her beautiful daughter.

And you are beautiful. You're my beautiful baby girl. And you're going to be even more beautiful when you grow up, not like mommy. You've got lovely light brown hair, are you going to be blonde like mommy, or will it turn sandy like your daddy's. No, sweetie, I know he made you with me, but he's not your daddy, not now, not ever. He ran away; daddies don't run away, they stick around; they accept their responsibilities. Damn him! Why can't he be like his big brother? But better no daddy than a big bad daddy. But never mind him now, just look at those beautiful blue eyes, just like mine, but so much prettier. I know the nasty doctors said you couldn't see me properly yet, but know mommy's here don't you? And the doctors were wrong, yes they were, I can tell, because you watch every move mommy makes.

There, have you finished? Good girl, up you come Alexandra; keep your eyes open for just a few seconds more until mommy helps you get rid of all that nasty wind, there doesn't that feel better? Ooh, big burps! That's it, well done, close those eyes now. You are so beautiful, there, hush, little baby, there, there's your crib, time for sleep little baby. Oh, that aches, that's not fair, back aches are supposed to be a thing of the past now you're out in the big world, and not hanging on to mommy's backbone. H'mm, Mommy needs to start some of those nice gentle exercises she's been down-loading from the net, but somebody is being greedy, three feeds since midnight! And it's only just daylight, just past six o'clock. Mommy needs to find a way to feed you and get some sleep, but if you're a good girl, and keep to your timetable you should sleep until eight. What do you think? Can I rest now, until you wake me up again, and then mommy promises I'll start doing those exercises? Oh, excuse me! Mommy didn't mean to yawn at you, baby. Now, if I can just shut my eyes just for a minute or two...

Oh, why can't I sleep! I need sleep! Alexandra's down, I'm tired, so why can't I sleep. This definitely isn't fair! Oh, no, I am _not _going to start crying now. I managed not to cry when I unloaded all that crap on Coates last night and I'm not going to start now just because I've lost a little sleep. I've pulled all-nighters before, so why should a couple of early wake ups bother me! Damn hormones, that what it is! Wish they'd settle the hell down! It was their fault that I did I unload on Coates last night! God, what exactly did I tell her? I don't even like her! And oh crap! After all that I still have to work with her! I'll just have to tell the Admiral that I need to be reassigned. No, I'll tell him that she needs to be reassigned! Oh crap! She'll be married to Rabb by then, she'll never be reassigned! What if I get reassigned back to duty afloat, after all I never finished my time on the _Seahawk_, and I don't even have a family care plan! What happens if I have to go back to sea - I can't let them take my baby away! I'll have to resign, oh damn! I can't, I still owe the navy two years! Damn you Sergei Zhukov! We really screwed the pooch on this one! I thought I loved you, I thought you would be like your brother! But you're not! We _are_ better off without you! If I can't rely on you to be here then I hope to God I can rely upon you to stay away, because if I see you anytime soon, I don't know if I could stop myself from shooting you on the spot, and you most definitely aren't worth life in jail! But I wish you had stayed...for her, if not for me...

Harm knocked gently on Jen's door, realising as he did so that he was, perhaps, being overly cautious, not only had they just spent the night naked in bed with each other but in the four months they'd been together he had not only seen but had explored with hands and mouth every square inch of her body, but his mom's early training had instilled certain behavioural patterns and although he wouldn't have dreamt of knocking if they had been sharing a room, he was psychologically unable to enter a woman's room without permission. Jen's "Come in," was all it needed for him to open the door, she was stood in front of the tall, antique walnut chest of drawers, and his jaw dropped as she saw what she had been doing. She had somehow found her way to the kitchen and rummaging through the various cupboards had provided herself with a can of metal polish and a soft cloth. She had obviously stripped the contents from the frame and had set to work to remove every slight trace of tarnish from the silver frame and had re-assembled photograph and frame and as he knocked she had been positioning it to her satisfaction on the chest.

She turned as he entered and as she saw the expression on his face she had a moment of doubt, "You don't mind do you?" she asked, her forehead creased in concern.

"Er... no... I..."

"It's just that she's so beautiful, she deserves better than to be stuck away in a drawer and forgotten about, but if it's too painful..."

"No... It's fine, you're right, she is beautiful, and yes, Diane deserves so much more than being hidden away, and it's alright, you don't have to worry about her and you don't have to worry about me. It doesn't hurt to see her anymore. Like I said last night I loved her then, but this is now, and now I love you!"

According to long established Burnett family custom weekend breakfasts were a long leisurely affair on a help-yourself basis. There was always plenty available and Trish didn't care what you made for breakfast, she had only two rules: don't waste, and don't leave a mess. Jennifer was no slouch in the kitchen, her teenage spell of working in a greasy spoon diner had taught her some tricks of the trade, but she had learned because she had to. However, Harm had learned to cook because he loved to, and despite his jokes that he had learned from trial and error - mostly error, he usually added with a grin - he had a real flair in the kitchen, so when he volunteered to make the eggs and toast that Jen had asked for she was more than happy to sit back and watch him. Eggs, toast and OJ produced, they made their way to the poolside deck, where Trish and Frank had just finished their breakfast and were presiding over the family sized coffee pot from which Jen could smell the tantalising aroma of a fresh brew.

"Did you two get much sleep last night?" Trish asked mischievously.

Jen went bright red, damn! I wish Trish didn't have this effect on me! While Harm's admonishing exclamation of "Mom!" only had the effect of making Trish open her eyes to their most innocent wideness and say "I was only worrying that Alexandra might have woken you up during the night."

Harm glowered as openly as he dared at his unrepentant parent, "And did you sleep well too, mommy dearest?" he asked in tones that didn't quite match his mother's for innocence.

"Oh, yes, dear, we never heard a murmur all night, did we Frank?"

"Not a single squeak," he happily agreed.

"No, you wouldn't have done," agreed Harm with all the aplomb he could muster, "after all; your bedroom is right at the far end of the house isn't it? Not right next door to Alexandra, who I can assure you, has a fine, healthy pair of lungs and a fine healthy appetite judging by the regularity with which she demands feeding!"

Both Trish and Frank exploded into laughter at the expression of indignation that had settled on Harm's face, while Jen sat wondering. Even when mom was alive, we never joked around like Harm and Frank and Trish do, they say things that could so easily be misunderstood, they josh about things I would never dare to. I know damn well that Trish wasn't asking us if Alexandra woke us up during the night! It's all so different from the way I grew up, I just can't imagine dad ever joking about anything. Maybe if he had we could have been a stronger, better family!

"Oh, I'm sorry, I was day-dreaming," Jen went pink as she realised that Frank had asked her the same question at least twice.

"That's OK; I just asked did you want any coffee, now you've finished eating. It's a fresh brew," He looked sideways at Harm and then back towards Jen, saying in a conspiratorial whisper, "It's Jamaica Blue Mountain, real coffee, not like that liquid tar the navy serves."

Jen had acquired a taste for the liquid tar, and was a bit doubtful about trying anything different, but was pleasantly surprised by the light taste of this different brew, but she still wished that it had a bit of extra bite. Frank had been watching her face while she drank, and as she finished he said, "No, there's no need to say anything. Your face tells the story. You didn't dislike it, but you didn't particularly like it either. Well, to tell the truth I don't particularly like this decaf stuff at the best of times, but She Who Must Be Obeyed, insists upon it. And anyway it's probably better for you right now, isn't it?"

She smiled her gratitude at him for his understanding, but at the same time she felt a degree of chagrin. I wish everyone would just stop telling me that my face gives away my every thought! It doesn't, otherwise I wouldn't be such a good poker player! Oh, well maybe I'm not that good; I do seem to lose more than I win!

The four of them spent a lazy half hour chatting about everything and nothing, before they were joined by a still sleepy Loren, carrying a still sleeping Alexandra in her arms. She was still a bit wary around Harm and Jen, and had half expected their conversation to stop when she appeared. That had been the normal reaction to her at JAG, but instead, Harm got up and ushered her into his chair while he pulled a replacement closer to the table, while the others acknowledging her presence brought the topic under consideration to a natural conclusion. Jen was the first to address her directly, "Good morning Loren, how was the night? Dumb question really, we heard her a couple of times!"

Loren's abrupt "We managed, thank you," came as a surprise to the family, and when she saw their reactions, although she blushed slightly, she added rather defensively, "Well, we did."

Her tone was so reminiscent of a sulky child that Frank to Loren's angered amazement burst into laughter. "Oh, if anybody had heard you say that, they would never have believed that you were anywhere near old enough to be a mommy! Loren, you sounded about ten years old!"

Loren blushed until her ears were bright red, and for a moment it seemed that she might treat them to a sample of Lieutenant Witch's vituperative tongue, but eventually, she smiled in embarrassment, and muttered, "I'm sorry, that was rude of me, and yes, childish too. It's just that I'm not used to having anyone care about me, and I guess that sometimes I see it as interference, and I react instinctively, when I should be thinking. I'm sorry everyone. And I'm sorry especially to you Jennifer. It seems I have a problem with you, and I think we need to talk."

"Well, then," chimed in Trish, perhaps we ought to leave you girls to talk, while I supervise these two clearing up the mess they've undoubtedly left in the kitchen! Jen, help Loren to a cup of coffee. It's alright Loren, it's decaffeinated, or otherwise we wouldn't let Jen drink it! And we'd better get you something to eat too. If anyone around here needs to keep her strength up it's you! Do you have any preferences?"

"Some cereal would be great if you have it?"

"Coming right up! Now get on you two, get out of the girls' hair!" Shooing the two men ahead of her she shepherded them into the kitchen, and said with an anxious glance at Harm, "She'll be alright you know, they both will. We all know that Loren's got huge issues somewhere in her life, and I suspect she doesn't quite know how to interact with Jen here as an equal, when there's such a big difference at work; I guess she doesn't quite have your charm, son, when dealing with juniors. But don't worry, your Jen's got a remarkable head on her shoulders, she'll work it out."

"I hope you're right mom, Loren may not realise it yet, but she's going to need some form of family support if she's going to try and be a single navy mom. And right now, Jen and I are the only support she's got, or is likely to get. Whatever her problem is, she needs to work through it for her own sake and Alexandra's."

"Well, don't get too carried away with the idea that you and Jen are all she's got! She's got me and Frank too!"

Harm draped an arm across Trish's shoulder and hugged her gently, "I know that too mom, but she's going to have to report back to the Navy soon, and that means she'll be back in Virginia, while you and Frank are out here. And it's no use expecting her to leave Alexandra with you when she does. Jen said it earlier; it'd take a pry-bar to separate her from her daughter."

"And so it should!" Trish agreed emphatically, pouring milk over a bowl of corn flakes, "You can't break a mother's bond to her child. And in the end Harm, family is family, no matter how irregular it might be!"


	9. The Colonel's Lady and Susie O'Grady

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 9  
>The Colonel's Lady and Susie O'Grady<strong>

The two young women left alone at the poolside deck table were silent. Loren, although she had suggested that she and Jen talk, was taken by surprise at the speed with which Trish had ushered Frank and Harm away was at a temporary loss, unsure of how to begin, and even unsure of what she was going to, what she wanted to say. Jen, who thought she had no particular axe to grind was content to let Loren set the pace and tone of anything they might have to say to each other.

Eventually, and with a deep sigh of resignation, Loren broke the silence, "I just said that I have a problem with you, Coates, and I do. If everyone else has forgotten when you first came to JAG's notice, I haven't; have you? You were a smart-mouthed insubordinate sailor, who was up on charges, and I was the one prosecuting you, while Commander Rabb was your defence counsel.

Somehow, oh I know he bent the rules, he kept you of the brig until your Article 32 hearing came up. The he brought you to the Roberts' for the pre-Christmas drinks party; the one where I mislaid that damn bracelet. Yes, as it turned out, I was wrong to accuse you of stealing it, but I should have charged with you a second offence of UA, but you and he double-teamed me then, and now it looks like you're double-teaming me again. Is it all accidental, or are you even more devious than people say_ I_ am?"

Taking her cue from Loren's form of address, Jen replied, "Ma'am, I did make mistakes back then, and I guess I deserved what I got, and you got it for me, thirty days in the brig. I don't hold that against you. One of the reasons for that is because during those ten days before my Article 32 plea-bargain, I discovered that my appointed defence counsel was someone who 'seemed to care about me, even to worry about me, tried to help me, tried to advise me' - does that sound familiar to you ma'am? It should; that's what you said about him last night, and I agree with you, he did it just because that's what he does, that's who he is. You're a woman, so you'll know what I mean when I say he was the only man I had ever met who did something for me, without expecting something in exchange. I thought he maybe had seen something in me worth caring about, when even I didn't. That got me thinking, maybe there was something worth caring about in there somewhere, maybe there was still time to turn my life around. I thought that maybe JAGs were different to other Navy officers I'd met. I watched the way he talked to people, as people, all the way down Seamen and Marine Privates; he didn't talk down to them. Do you know rare that is ma'am? How often Officers treat enlisted as some sort of second class citizens? And I saw Lieutenant Roberts, and Lieutenant Sims trying to follow his example. The only one I saw that didn't was you ma'am. I wondered why, then I saw how everyone seemed to dislike… well maybe that's a bit cold… but well, just to tolerate you; and I heard all your nicknames…"

She broke off as Trish approached carrying Loren's promised bowl of cereal, "Are you two having a nice talk? Good, then I won't disturb you; but play nice, you hear?" Trish's good humour shone through her words, and Jen smiled up at her, while even Loren's face relaxed its frown for a few seconds.

Jen watched her walk away for a few seconds while she gathered her train of thought before continuing, "What was I saying…? Oh, yes, your nicknames… do you know there was one person in that office who never referred to you as anything other than 'Lieutenant Singer', except once, when he was correcting me. I called you 'that witch', he said 'that's Lieutenant Witch, to you Petty Officer'. That's the only time. Then after Lieutenant Roberts' injury, when I was reassigned to JAG, I still watched you, still trying to figure you out. You seemed to go out of your way to make people dislike you, but every once in a while, I'd hear you say something mean, and then I'd catch you with what looked like tears in your eyes. I just couldn't figure out why someone would keep doing stuff that made them that unhappy." Jen noticed that new mother was having difficulty trying to hold to Alexandra and eat her cereal at the same time. She needed three hands, one to hold the baby, one to hold the spoon and the third to hold the bowl still on the table's slick surface.

"Why don't you let me hold Alexandra, for a few moments, just while you eat, ma'am?" Noticing Loren's dubious, almost fearful expression, she added "I'm not going to steal her away, or drop her. I know how precious she is… please?"

Loren, still slightly unwilling, allowed Jen to take her daughter while she at last managed to finish her breakfast, and pour herself a cup of coffee. "Ugh," she spluttered after her first sip, "this coffee's cold!" and as Jen giggled, she raised one of her eloquent eyebrows and said, "What?"

"Just that you said exactly the same last night ma'am!"

Loren gave one of her wintry little half smiles, and said, "But that's not all, was it Coates? I said a hell of a lot more. More than I can remember ever telling anyone else. I don't ever tell people that stuff; knowledge is power, so if you let someone know about your secrets that you give them power over you, and that's what I gave you last night. I gave you power over me! I should have kept control of the situation, dammit, that's what I've been trained to do!"

"Is that the problem you have with me ma'am? Are you afraid that I might try and take advantage of what you told me? That I might spread gossip, or that I might try to blackmail you? As far as I am concerned what get said in San Diego stays in San Diego! If you do think that, then you don't know me very well! But you've never even tried to know anyone at JAG have you? But do you what the worst thing about what you think is? If you really think I'm that cold and amoral and devious then you don't think much of Harm if you think he could ever love somebody like that!"

"Is it love, Petty Officer? Or did he only ask you to marry him after he found out about that?" looking straight at Jen's stomach.

Jen blushed, "No… in a strange way, he never really asked me. He told the Admiral he was going to marry me at the same time he handed in his resignation, and then the two of them ganged up on me… If you think that we're double-teaming you here, you should have been in the Admiral's office Tuesday morning! Oh, I'm sorry; you were too busy with this one, weren't you? No that wasn't a dig at you, but I am jealous of you, just a little bit, it seems such a long time until I'll have my own to hold."

Jen's eyes had dropped to look down at the sleeping Alexandra, and she missed the look of concern on Loren's face.

"I think I'll have her back now Coates, you've been over generous… I'm sorry, I can't think how to say this without sounding mean, and right now, I don't want to be. It's just, oh hell, I'll just say it and hope you don't take offense, thank you for looking after her while I ate, but I think I'll take her back now."

"Oh, of course you must! Oh, that didn't sound quite right either! Look, I know that maybe we'll never be best friends, and it'll take a while for us to get used to each other, but here's the thing, Harm is never going to turn his back on your daughter, so that means he's never going to turn his back on you, and where he stands, you're going to find me standing right alongside him, so it looks like we're stuck with each other for at least the next eighteen years until our children are grown. Did you know he's the third successive generation of this family to have grown up without a father? He's not going to let that happen with Alexandra. He's going to be a father figure for her whether you like it or not. He's going to be interfering, pushy and probably as overbearing as we'll let him get away with, but it will always be with our children's best interest in mind. I mean how can you doubt that? Look around at this place, oh, not the house, but the home; look at the love between Frank, Trish and Harm. Before you came out to breakfast, I was sat here amazed at how these three people joked and laughed and teased each, and included me, even though haven't known me for as much as a day. You must have felt that too!"

Loren looked steadily at her for a short while and said, "You really mean that don't you? Commander Rabb isn't going to let this go. He said he was going to be there for me, oh months ago, before I took leave, and now that there's a new baby Rabb - even if only by default - he's going to make sure we're looked after, isn't he?"

"Oh Loren, it's going to be far, far worse than that. He's going to be a real pain in the ass for the next eighteen years at least! We can't afford to be at odds with each other when we've got him to contend with! Hey, even if it's just a 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' kinda thing, let's give it a go, let's try to be friends, what do you say?"

Loren's face relaxed for the first time during the conversation and a lot of the tension went out of her. She mustered a small smile and said, "You make a good closing argument counselor - OK, Jennifer, let's try. But I give you fair warning, I may not be the easiest person in the world to be a friend to."

"Good, in that case, let me make this a formal thing: Loren Singer, will you be my matron of honour on Saturday at Falls Church Courthouse at thirteen hundred hours?"

"Oh… I don't know… There's all the hassle of travelling with Alexandra… and..." she added with a look of consternation, "I have absolutely nothing to wear! It's not funny," she protested, just before she burst into laughter at her own use of the old cliché, "I really don't, all I've got here are sweats, T-shirts, one denim skirt and a whole heap of maternity clothes!"

"Oh, not a problem," Jen gasped, "uniform of the day is Dress Whites, no swords!"

"I don't even have my Dress Whites - they're in storage in George Town!" Loren wailed.

Loren's predicament struck them both as excruciatingly funny, and they went off into a repeated gust of laughter, unfortunately so loud that it disturbed Alexandra, who marked her disapproval with the proceedings and with life in general by the exercise of a very healthy pair of lungs. "Oh baby, we woke you, I'm so sorry… oh dear! How can you make mommy's milk smell so bad, you disgusting creature? Jen, this is going to be a major clean-up operation… No you stay here," she added as Jen made to stand up and follow her, "there's no need… really." And her smile clearly said that this wasn't a snub.

Jen wasn't the only one to watch her walk away from the table, "Well," said Trish, "did you see that? Did you hear that laughter? It looks like they've ironed out whatever was bugging them!"

"Yeah, maybe, mom, but I have a feeling there's going to be more bumps in the road than that one!"

Trish looked squarely at him and said, "Do you think I don't know that Loren was, and maybe still is, just so close to throwing her stuff in her car and heading off into the sunrise somewhere? That child has been hurt badly, very badly at some stage in her life, and nobody who's been that hurt will ever willingly allow themselves to get hurt again, that's why she's as prickly as a porcupine. It has to have been hard for her to get close to anyone, and then when she did, she got hurt again. That's what makes Sergei's actions so reprehensible. Now she's got little Alexandra in her life, she has at least one person who will give her unconditional love, and that might just help her to heal. But you'll need to keep an eye on her son, without being a bull in a china shop, too much pressure might make her pull all the way back and shut everybody out again. You might want to think about that. But if she gets too absorbed in her child it won't be healthy for her or Alexandra; she's a very attractive young woman, especially when she smiles, she needs to get out a bit, meet a nice young man who'll look after her and her daughter, but when she does, it doesn't mean that you're off the hook. You took on a responsibility to that child, son, and I know you won't shirk it. Because that's the way I raised you, and that's what your father would expect!"

"Mom, did I ever tell you just how smart you are? And have I told you this morning that I love you?"

"No… I don't think so, and yes, you did, but you can tell me again if you like! What? What's so funny?"

"Nothing really, it's just that it's almost exactly word for word what Jen said to me the other day when I asked her the same question!"

"Oh, so now I'm getting used questions?"

"That's not my fault mom, you set the trend. You married a used car salesman! And you set yourself for that on purpose! I'm getting wise to you Mrs Burnett!"

"And I'm getting wise to you, son. I didn't fail to notice how you deflected my question last night when I asked you about Jennifer."

"Mom, I could go on about Jennifer for the rest of the week, non-stop, easily. But I could sum it all up in three little words, 'I love her'. Do you need to know any more than that?"

"No, Harm, I don't _need_ to know any more than that, but I would _like_ to know, maybe just a_ little_ more…"

"Well… when I first met her, she was my prisoner..."

"Your what?"

"Mon, if you keep on interrupting me every sentence, we'll be celebrating my Golden Wedding before I finish!"

"Sorry, Harm but it was a bit of a shock."

"It was nothing serious, a short spell of UA and an even shorter spell of brig time, but it served its purpose, Jen turned herself around, got re-qualified as a Legalman and started working for JAG. She was Bud Roberts' Legalman on board the_ Seahawk_, and she was with him when he was injured; without her quick thinking and quick action it is probable that Bud would have died that day. Thing is," he smiled fondly, "she just won't have it that way. But she bullied a Marine Pilot, two ranks above herself to fly Bud out immediately instead of waiting for a medevac helicopter, and then she disobeyed orders so she could stay with Bud until they got him into the ship's hospital, and then she wouldn't eat or sleep until she knew he was going to pull through. Mom, with that kind of loyalty to a friend, what do you think she wouldn't do for her husband? Then when she got reassigned to Falls Church and things went south between Mac and myself, she was there to support me, to be my friend. She was always there when I needed her, and then the night Loren flew out here, I needed her again, just to pick me up from where I'd parked Loren's car… and then it just kinda happened, and we fell in love… or maybe she did… I guess I kinda realised that I'd been in love with her for months. Mom, we hadn't really talked about it, but we both knew that we were going to get married. But we'd have to wait until Jen's enlistment was up, I wasn't happy about waiting until then and we took a hell of a risk just by being with each other, and we wouldn't be free and clear if AJ hadn't pulled some strings for us. And then when Jen said we were having a baby, I said the hell with it, there was no way that another Rabb was going to grow up without a father! So now we're here, waiting to talk to you and Frank and Loren about how we're going to get us all, and Alexandra back east in time for the wedding!"

"That's a lovely story, Harm, but it doesn't tell me much about Jen, about her background, her family, her education…"

"Mom, that's Jen's story to tell if she wants to and when she thinks the time is right. There's nothing discreditable in it, but it's a little bit dark, maybe not as dark as Loren's, but dark enough, so please, don't _you_ push _her_. As for the rest, well you've seen she's beautiful; she's smart, she's funny, she cries at sappy romances, she's brave, generous, loving and she's good for me, and I think I'm damn' lucky to find her, and even luckier to have her say that she chose me!"

"That's some testimonial, son. And I think that the luck runs both ways!"

Harm thought that one through for a couple of seconds, and then he grinned, "Yeah, but you're biased! So, if you have finished the interrogation, I am going to spend some time with my fiancée. I haven't spoken to her in nearly an hour!"


	10. Sisters Under The Skin

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 10  
>Sisters Under The Skin<strong>

"Hello, beautiful," Harm walked up behind Jen, and bending over her chair-back, kissed her softly on the cheek.

She turned and tilted her head to look up at him as he stood behind her, "Oh, that's not much of a kiss, is that the best you can do?" she grumbled.

"No," he replied, through one of his trade-mark flyboy grins, "but that's the best you're going to get until we get somewhere private, unless you want to make the seagulls blush."

"Well... I wouldn't mind that," she answered suggestively.

"Easy, Tiger, we need to start making some plans to get all of us back home." He paused and looked around. "You know, for years this is where I've thought of whenever I've thought of home, but now home is our apartment back in DC. I know we talked about finding a home of our own with room for the kids..."

"Oh yeah, and what makes you think there are going to be any more kids after this one?" She was teasing him again, her deep brown eyes dancing with the sheer joy of throwing him off his stride.

"Oh, I'm sure, we could always manage it if we tried hard enough... but the argument I was trying to make before you interrupted me..."

"Sorry counsellor!" But the dimple on her cheek betrayed her efforts not to laugh out loud.

"Before you interrupted me, was that I love that apartment, because that's where I first discovered that I love you."

The amusement in her eyes and on her face died instantly; instead, she glowed as she said, "Oh, Harm!"

He was taken aback, "Hey, hey, don't cry."

She wiped her damp eyes, "Oh, don't mind me, it's just these damn' hormones."

"H'mm," he said, swiftly deciding to change the subject, "speaking of which, how was your consultation with Loren, or was it Lieutenant Singer?"

"Well, I started out with Lieutenant Singer, but it progressed to Loren by the time she had to go and change Alexandra. I won't say we're best friends forever, but she wasn't exactly hostile to the idea that she could be my matron of honour next week. Oh, Harm it was the funniest thing, she didn't immediately shoot the idea down, but then she suddenly said, 'but I haven't got anything to wear!' of all the old lines to come out with! That's when we started laughing, and then I told her, that the uniform of the day was Dress Whites, no sword, and we laughed even harder when she told me hers were in storage in George Town. Oh, and Harm, I think she was telling the truth when she said all she had here were sweats and T-Shirts and one blue skirt and a pile of maternity clothes, but we didn't have a chance to get any further because we were laughing so hard we woke the baby up!"

"Uniform of the day huh?" Harm gazed speculatively at Jen, "what were you intending to wear?"

"Dress Whites of course!"

"No wedding dress?"

"No... I thought that with this," she patted her stomach, "on the way, and we'll be looking for a new place, why spend money on a totally impractical dress which I can only wear once?"

"Ever practical... did I tell you that is another reason to love you?"

"Yes, you did. And that's only seventy-seven reasons; you need to find another nine hundred and twenty four, if you want to convince me!"

"Why that number?"

"With the seventy-seven reasons you've already given me, they add up to one thousand and one. It's a perfectly valid number!"

"Well yes it is, but I could probably find that many reasons in a year, what am I going to do for the next fifty?"

"Oh, I'll find something to keep you busy! Which reminds me, what are we doing this afternoon?"

"You my darling, are going to be taking Loren's measurements for her matron of honour's dress. The problem is getting her to accept it..."

"Not necessarily..."

"Oh yes?" Harm's tone was decidedly sceptical.

"Oh, yes, I'll tell her it's going to be quite a simple thing, I've seen the styles she prefers, and I can tell her that it will be suitable as a summer dress or a cocktail dress for other occasions, and if she gets a bit stuffy about it, I'll suggest we trade, her matron of honour's dress for some of her maternity outfits. We're about the same height, and don't think the other measurement are going to matter much a couple of months down the road! But how are we going to get her a dress in time?"

"I know an outfitters' on South 32nd that'll be able to get us exactly what we need, oh yes, and don't forget to get her cover size!"

"Harmon Rabb, what are you up to?"

"Me? Nothing at all, I am as innocent as new born lamb, remember. It's my mom you need to watch! Now I've got a couple things I need to do before lunch, so my beautiful pregnant girlfriend, you are going to sit here with your feet up, for half an hour, and then you can kick your shoes off and join me in getting lunch ready!

"OK, but why take my shoes off?"

"So I can get you just the way I want my wife - barefoot and pregnant and in the kitchen!" he quipped, smartly skipping out of the way of a swat that was aimed at his six.

"Ohhhh! I am so going to get you for that Harmon Rabb!" warned Jen, as it was suddenly borne in her that you can be mad at someone and want to laugh at their jokes at the same time. All the same, she thought, he's up to something with this thing about a dress for Loren!

He was indeed up to something, or rather up to three somethings. And his first port of call was on his mom. "Hey mom, I need your delicate touch," was his greeting when he joined her in the family room.

Trish hastily snatched off her reading glasses, and stuffed them under a cushion, and then pretended she could read the magazine she was holding. It was she acknowledged pure vanity on her part; she knew that Harm had known for years that she wore reading glasses, but with the exception of Frank, she never allowed anybody to see her wearing them, and it was perhaps the one subject that Harm never teased her about.

"Why do you need my touch? You're up to something, aren't you?"

"Why is it," he asked plaintively, looking up towards the ceiling, that the two women that I love most in the whole world are constantly accusing me of plotting, planning and scheming?"

"Probably," Trish replied at her very driest, "it's because they are the two women in the whole world that know you best! Now, spit it out, what are you up to?"

"Mom, I've been a bit insensitive, and I'd like to put it right before Jen even notices. When I stipulated to Keeter and Skates that the uniform of the day was to be Dress Whites, I never dreamed that Jen would assume I meant the same for her. But she's just said that she'll be wearing her Dress Whites to get married in. She says she doesn't want to spend a lot of money on a dress that she'll only wear once. But, mom, I don't want her to have any regrets in later years, I want her to have wedding photos that she can bring out and show to our grand children and have them giggle at the outfits we oldsters use to wear back in the day. I just thought that maybe you could take her shopping on Monday, maybe during lunch time, and buy her a long white dress that she could maybe wear to a formal ball; you know; something elegant that's not so obviously a wedding dress. I'll cover the cost of course, but..."

"Harmon Rabb I'll do no such thing! It would be an insult to the girl! Anyway you can't just walk into a dress store in San Diego and get something straight off the rail. Not a ball gown, which is what you're suggesting. No, I've got a much better idea..."

"What is it mom?"

"Well, I won't tell you, first off because it might not work, and second because if it does work, I want, and Jen will want it to be a surprise."

"There! Proof positive and incontrovertible, it's just I told Jen, you are the devious one in the family!"

"Why, thank you, Harm!" she said with an assumed air of someone accepting a compliment.

"Think nothing of it mom. Do you know where Frank is?"

"Yes, he's in the war-room playing with his toy soldiers! It's true what they say; little boys never do grow up!"

Frank was in his basement lair which Trish had rather inaccurately called the war-room. It was a complex of three rooms, one of which was his home office equipped with, among other things, the latest in computer home technology, a lounge area with a large-screen TV and complete range of audio visual recording and playing equipment and a large games room. This room was dominated by a 6 feet by 14 feet table covered in heavy green baize and looking like a miniature landscape with clusters of scale model buildings and trees set out on its surface. The room was lined with shelves from head height down to knee level; one wall was crowded with books on military history while the other shelves held hundreds upon hundreds of brightly painted one inch high miniature soldiers. Frank was sitting at a brightly lit side table, a magnifying visor on his head while he added minute amounts of paint to a further twenty or so miniature figures.

Harm waited until Frank had finished work on the miniature he was holding and then said, "I just don't get all this, Frank."

"Hell, it's a hobby, it keeps my mind occupied, and it keeps me off the streets. Anyway, it's not that much different from what you do. These are my toys; it's just that your toys are bigger! Which reminds me, now you're settling down, are you going to stop flying?"

"No, well... that is I hadn't really thought about it."

"H'mm. Take a pew, Harm. Listen, I don't want to push my nose in where it's none of my beeswax, but maybe you ought to think about it. You've got responsibilities now, not just to that lovely girl upstairs and the son or daughter she's carrying - your son or daughter, but you also took on responsibility for Loren and Alexandra. No, don't interrupt. I know exactly why you did it, and if this is painful for you, then I'm sorry for it, but you did it so that another generation of Rabbs wouldn't have to grow up without a father. You were maybe too young to remember how your dad's loss affected your mother, but when I came on the scene five, six years later I could still see the hurt and the pain of that loss. Your mom's a strong woman, and over the years I think she has healed, but maybe not completely; I still see a far-away look in her eyes sometimes, when the planes from Miramar fly over. Do you want to be the cause of that much pain to Jennifer? Do you want to leave two more Rabbs without a father? I know how much you say you love flying, but do you love it enough to risk that?"

Harm sat in thought or what seemed a long time before he answered, "Wow, you certainly said a heap! And I think my answer has to be in two parts. First off, you're right, I ought to let my flying go; mom said a little while ago that little boys never outgrow their toys; maybe it's time this one did. I don't need to fly as part of my job now. But it's such a huge part of me, I am still an aviator who became a lawyer, not a lawyer who is sometimes still an aviator, if that makes any sort of sense? But you're right of course, and I knew I'd have to do it one day, but I hadn't thought that day would be quite so soon. Second, if mom has healed, then I reckon it's due in great part to you. If it wasn't easy for mom to move on, then it must have been just as hard for you taking on a woman who had one of the surliest, most difficult, bad tempered thirteen year olds that God ever put on this earth, and one who resented you so much for, in his eyes, trying to replace his own father. I never really said anything to you about how much you've helped mom, and as I grew older I saw how much you love her, and yes, even how much she loves you, and again, at first, I saw that as a betrayal of dad, but it wasn't; people do move on, and they do need to love and be loved. Mom needed a different kind of love than a son's, and you were there to provide it for her, and I'm thankful that you were. I've always thought of you and called you 'Frank', never 'Dad', probably because I was too stupid and too stubborn and it's probably too late to change that habit now, but looking back I guess I've known for years that you were always there for me, supporting me, encouraging me, advising me, and every once in a while tearing me a new one when you thought I deserved it. And that's a big part of what I reckon a dad is, so if I haven't thanked you before for being my dad, then I'm saying it now."

Frank was deeply moved by something he hadn't been aware that he had been waiting for nearly thirty years to hear, but all he eventually said was "Thank you... son," knowing that this time Harm would understand.

The two men sat in silence for a long five minutes while they let the emotions that had come so close to the surface quietly sink back into the depths of their souls. Finally Frank asked, "So what really brought you down here to the underworld, you didn't just come to make nice?"

"No, I've been trying to figure out how to get five adults and a new born baby clean across the continent in time for next Friday, and I figure I could use your help. I can get Jen and myself back OK, a phone call to Miramar would do it, but that would still leave the rest of you here."

"Why Friday, Harm? It's cutting it a bit fine."

"Yeah, but there's something I need to work out at this end, and I reckon it's going to take a few days, but I hope I can get started on it this afternoon!"

"Alright... what if I could organise a private charter, say something like a Lear or a Gulfstream?"

"Frank, no, I couldn't afford that and I can't ask you to pay."

"Harm, if your mom and I had to fly to DC to attend your wedding, would you have even thought of not letting me pay for our flights and even a car rental at the other end? No, of course you wouldn't. With five adults and a baby, the cost of airline tickets wouldn't be much less than the cost of a charter, especially if we can pick up an empty leg - that's one of the advantages of you being near DC. Besides it'll be so much easier and convenient, especially for Loren, with all the paraphernalia she's going to need to look after Alexandra it's not going to be easy to get it all in as a carry-on. And then there's your mom, if you think she's going to attend your wedding in travel stained and crumpled slacks and a blouse, then you don't know your own mother!"

"OK, OK!" Harm held his hands up in mock surrender, "I didn't come down here to twist your arm, I just wanted some input. I guess I got more than I asked for. Thanks, Frank... dad." Then for the second time that morning Harm made a deliberate change of subject. "So, who are these little guys you're working on now?"

"Redcoats - the British are coming back! They're for a War of 1812 game we've got coming up."

"We?" asked Harm with a lift of an enquiring eyebrow

"Yes, there's six of us, we usually get together once a month, and push our little lead soldiers around the table. See if we can't change history," he grinned rather self-consciously, "Trish would rather have me do this, rather than join a poker circle, she thinks it's healthier, and that it doesn't cost quite so much!"

Shaking his in bafflement, Harm left Frank to his hobby and returned to the family room, now occupied by the three women and a clean and fed Alexandra. Judging by the sudden silence and the quick burst of giggles from all three as he entered the room, their talk had been decidedly naughty, or he himself had been the subject of their talk. Feeling slightly paranoid, he settled on the couch alongside Jen and drew her into his side, where she rested contentedly against his shoulder. "This reminds me," he said innocently, "of a scene in a play I once saw, the only things missing are the thunder, fire and storm." His air of innocence dropped away and he grinned unrepentantly at the three. Trish caught on immediately, followed swiftly by Loren, and Jen's "What? What have I missed?" was drowned in the mock protests from the other two. Well, he thought, I know Trish is only pretending, I only hope Loren is as well!

Once the uproar had died down, and he had fended off Loren's thrown cushion, Trish said, "Trust a man to come along and ruin everything. We girls were having a comfortable talk until you burst in on us!"

"H'mm, do I want to know about what you were talking?" he asked suspiciously.

"Trish came up with a really great idea," Jen said enthusiastically.

"Well I don't know if it was all that great, dear. We were talking about clothes, specifically maternity clothes for Jen. I was just saying to Loren, that if she didn't want to clutter up her closet with the clothes she needed while she was carrying Alexandra, then perhaps Jen might want to buy them from her."

"And then I thought, as Loren said she didn't have anything to wear for the wedding that as a part-buy and part-trade, I should get her a simple dress that she could use on other occasions rather than as just a one-off for the wedding, and we were just discussing styles, materials and colours when you came in," added Jen with a smile.

Harm threw a quick glance at Loren, who didn't seem quite as up to speed with the conversation as outlined by Trish and Jen. She's beginning to get the feeling she's being handled, thought Harm, and then looking at mom and Jen working her, I really need to watch my six if they double-team on me.

Loren _was_ feeling manipulated. Yes, the topic of a part-buy, part-trade had been raised, but she had by no means agreed to it, and the way Trish and Jen seemed to take her agreement for granted was unsettling. She knew they were trying to be kind, but she was unused to having others take control of her life, and she wasn't all too sure that the prime mover behind the whole maternity clothes and matron of honour's idea wasn't sitting on the couch opposite her, and she wondered just what sort of family she had gotten herself involved in. She had never been friendly with Jen, or with any of the enlisted; she knew that she was guilty, although Jen had not directly accused her, of being the type of officer that treated the enlisted men and women with whom she came into contact as second-class citizens. Despite that, here was Jen treating her as if they were sisters, but with a lot more... affection? No... that can't be right, she thought, but at any rate better, and with more consideration than any of her own sisters ever had. Were their hormones that disrupted by pregnancy and childbirth that they were bonding?

Loren may have been confused about the developing relationships with which she was struggling, but she was dead wrong about one thing. The originator of the idea of trading clothes was sitting on the couch opposite her, but it wasn't the person wearing a cocky flyboy smile, who was now looking at her as if he could read her mind. For some reason which she couldn't fathom Loren Singer found herself blushing.


	11. Up to No Good?

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 11  
>Up to no good?<strong>

Switching topic yet again, the third time today, thought Harm, he asked Loren, "How's my niece now, I understand she created a bit of an environmental disaster earlier?"

Loren stiffened at what she thought was an implied criticism of her daughter, and then as she caught the teasing twinkle in Harm's eye, she remembered what Jennifer had said earlier about this family's habit of joking and teasing each other, and she realised that by not acting any differently towards her, that Harm really was just treating her as one of the family. "Well, she's sleeping again now, but I had to feed her again before she'd settle down, so I suppose the little monster will be imitating Mount St Helena again before too long."

Harm just stopped himself from commenting on what was quite possibly the first joke he had ever heard Loren Singer make, and said, "That is so comforting, now Jen and I just can't wait until we have our own little volcano to bury us in cr...," he broke off with a guilty look at Trish, "Sorry mom!"

"So I should think! Any more of that sort of language, and it'll be straight to bed for you with no lunch or dinner! Speaking of lunch, Jen, can you come and give me a hand in the kitchen, please. No, no Loren you stay where you are, I'll give you a shout in a few minutes and then you can set the table if you will; that kitchen's too small for more than two to try and work in it!"

Trish obviously had some objective in mind in leaving himself and Loren alone Harm thought, and judging by the dawning suspicion in Loren's expression she was coming to the same conclusion. He looked at her helplessly for a few seconds and finally said, "Look, Loren, I guess mom has left us alone here for some deep secret reason, but what it is I have absolutely no idea. Has she said anything to you about why she thinks we need to talk?"

Loren looked at him carefully, unsure whether she could trust him. He had always struck her as sincere, but seeing him here with his mother, she was beginning to think that he was more devious than she had thought. She had, she reflected, seen him obfuscating and pulling fantastic stunts in the courtroom, she had lost cases to him because of them. There was even a highly improbable tale of him firing an automatic weapon into the courthouse ceiling while the court was in session - obviously it could not be true, but it was a part of the legend that had grown around him. On the other hand, he had certainly seemed sincere enough last night when he had formally welcomed her and Alexandra to the family, but just how far could she trust him?

"Sir," she began tentatively, but he interrupted her.

"Loren, it's Harm now, we're sort of related, so the Commander and Lieutenant crap can be dropped unless we need it back in the office." Then it struck him; the office and getting Loren back to DC was what Trish had left them alone for. For some reason, she was expecting Loren to be resistant and was relying on him to persuade her to go back to work.

"OK, then Harm," she ventured a brief smile, "what's going on here. Really?"

"Loren, there's so much going on at so many different levels, that I'm not sure what you're asking me, and even if I knew, I probably wouldn't be able to come up with an answer. I realise that this is all very strange to you, but I wasn't expecting to find you here when I arrived, and I guess I'm still trying to process just what's happened in the last twenty-four hours. The only thing I am certain of is that the directing brain behind all this isn't mine, it's my mother's. And I guess what happens next depends a lot on what you're fixing to do. But first, before we start trying to unwrap one of my mother's mysteries, I just want to say thank you for saying you'll stand beside Jen next week. We're keeping, or we're trying to keep it, not exactly secret, but low key, so it's a very small do and apart from mom and Frank there'll only be two of my friends attending, and there won't be anyone there for Jen, so thank you very much."

"Oh, I hadn't really agreed..."Loren said dubiously, "I don't know if we can get back to DC, Alexandra's only going to be twelve days old, and I'm worried that the stress might be too much for her... that's if we can even get a flight that'll take such a young baby..."

"That's taken care of. No, let me finish, please. I flew Jen out here in an F-14, and I nearly had a fit when I found out after we had landed that pregnant servicewomen aren't allowed to fly in an airplane fitted with ejector seats... oh, and please don't tell her that. I haven't been able to myself, I was so scared of what the consequences might have been if we'd had to eject..." he sat in silence for a few moments and then continued, "Well, with no F-14 for the return trip, we're looking at a commercial flight. Frank and I did some number-crunching, and we figured out that with door to door service and no hanging around in airport halls, and with the extra convenience and extra baggage allowance, and looking at the air-fares for five adults and a child, that chartering a small 'plane would be just as cheap. Frank's downstairs on his 'phone sorting that out now. We plan to fly on Friday, and to get to DC well before sunset, so that will give us all plenty of time to rest before the ceremony on Saturday. So you don't need to worry about travelling with Alexandra. Oh, and I haven't had a chance to say good morning to her yet, so you just let me know when she wakes up next time."

Loren couldn't resist his smile, and responded with one of her own, "I think you'll know without being told by me the next time she wakes up!"

"Loren, you've changed, and I like the change."

Loren bristled, "I have not! I'm still Lieutenant Witch!"

"Yes, you probably still could be - if you wanted to." Harm said shrewdly, and watching Loren for her reactions.

"Don't let yourself be fooled! This isn't me, it's just my body and brain reacting to the extra hormones sloshing around inside!" but her protest lacked any real conviction.

"OK then, but could you help me out here, for a bit? Just go along with Jen over this matron of honour thing, after all," he said, "you should remember just how peculiar some of the urges are that pregnant women get, and Jen really wants to do something nice for you, just to mark Alexandra's entrance into the world."

"Why?" she asked bluntly.

"Why what?" he asked baffled.

"Why does Jennifer want to do something nice for me?" He marked the use of the full length Jen's name and the mocking tone of her last few words and debated on how he was going to answer her.

"I could say it was just because Jen's who she is. And that's a huge part of it. But it's also because she feels that the birth of a baby is a cause for celebration, and maybe because you didn't have a baby shower, and maybe because the guy who ditched you is someone who is about to become her brother-in-law, and if he'd been any sort of man, that tie would have been doubled, because he wouldn't have run from you and your child!"

"I don't want her damn pity!" Loren flared up,

"No! And you're not getting it! And you're not getting Jen either. Jen doesn't pity you, she's happy for you because you've got Alexandra, and she's even a little bit envious, I think. Next time you're holding your baby, sneak a look at Jen and look at the expression on her face! And maybe she feels just a tiny bit guilty, because she knows that she's got all the support that a pregnant woman and a new mom will need, and she knows that you haven't quite understood that you've got just as much support as she does!"

"I don't!"

"Yes, yes you do. I don't know why mom's adopted you, I guess I never will, I'm just glad she has, but I can promise you one thing, if you ever need help with Alexandra in the future, and probably with just about anything else, then mom will be there for you; you may have to dig in a little bit to stop her taking over, but that's only because she cares! And for those times when mom isn't around, and there's something that you can't quite fix on your own, and you don't want to bother her, then Jen and I will be there!"

"Why should she care? Why do you care?"

"I'll answer that the other way around. I care, because Alexandra is my brother's child, and he let me down, and he let himself down and most importantly of all, he let you and Alexandra down. I've a sneaky feeling that raising a child is going to be tough enough with a committed partner, trying to do on your own, Loren, is going to be hellish tough, particularly as a single mom in the navy. Have you even thought of a family care plan for when you get reassigned to sea-duty? Or are you thinking of resigning? For what my opinion is worth, that would be a mistake. Loren, you're a good lawyer, and even if you don't make it to be the first female JAG, you could still be a great lawyer, but you've still got some ways to go. And despite what some people might think, you're a good officer too, but you could be better. No, don't look at me; I'm no example for you to follow, I've played fast and loose with the rules way too many times. And I am not snowing you either, I know the admiral has a real admiration for some of your qualities and Sturgis Turner thinks that you have potential. So Jen and I are going to be there for you and help iron out some of the domestic wrinkles so that you can exploit that potential as a lawyer and as a navy officer. Why mom cares, I really don't know; she said that when she first met you, you looked like you needed a mom. Maybe she's always wanted a daughter, and all she got was me - must have been a helluva disappointment for her!

"That's a very pretty speech Harm, but what happens when you get tired of me, tired of Alexandra? That's what you do isn't it, just like your brother? And didn't he move out of your apartment because you lost interest in him and he'd rather live with strangers than stay with an indifferent brother? That's what you did to Colonel MacKenzie, played her along and then lost interest in her."

Harm had stiffened at Loren's intrusion into his life, but forced himself to relax, after all she was only doing to him what he was doing to her, except that maybe he hadn't judged her in the same way.

"Loren, have you been talking to Mac? That's not what happened, neither with Sergei nor with Mac, or maybe that's the way Mac sees it. Because that sounds like something she once said to me. I was attracted to Mac, but for the wrong reasons, not that I thought there was anything wrong with her, but because she reminded me so much of someone I'd lost; well, physically she did. I was, I admit, pretty much in love with her, but after I found out she was married and then the whole Brumby mess I realised that she had only got engaged to him in order to make me jealous, and then when she insisted I should be at the ceremony as her best friend, we had a fight, and I told her that if she really needed me at her wedding to make it complete, then she was maybe marrying the wrong man. But I still went along with it, and I took that stupid risk of trying to fly though a storm to get to her damn' wedding, I damn' near killed myself and my RIO; and then I woke up and smelled the coffee. Mac doesn't love me, she never has and she never will. I didn't lose interest in Mac, I had hoped that we could still be friends, but I did move on."

Loren remained stubbornly silent, and Harm gave a mental sigh. He had laid his cards on the table for her to see, and all he could do now was wait to see if she believed him, believed in him.

"Look, Loren, think over what I've just said, and then if you still have questions or doubts, then ask. You once told me that you were neither a thief nor a liar, and I believed you then and I believe you now. When you finally said that Sergei was Alexandra's father, I didn't for one second doubt that you were not telling the truth; I don't have to pretend to see that she's got his eyes, or his nose to prove paternity. I've got your word. Please repay the courtesy of believing that I don't lie either, and I've given my word that I shall be looking out for you and Alexandra whether you think you need it or not!"

"You remember that?" She asked in surprise, "You remember me telling you that?"

"Of course I do, we were fighting... no... I accused you of leaving that air accident report in Mac's car, and you denied it, but I didn't believe you until you said that. And I looked you straight in the eye, and what I saw there was honesty, so I believed you. Now, I've got a thing or two to do, and I suspect that mom and Jen have been dragging their heels over lunch just to let us have this talk. So let's not try to disappoint them, hey? Let's take something positive out of it, OK"

Loren tried a smile, "OK," she whispered.

"But Loren, there's just one thing that's got me puzzled," he said as he paused by the door, and when she questioned him with a look, he continued, "When we had our talk in Benzinger's..."

"When you were trying to bully me, you mean."

"Yeah, well, maybe. Just a little bit", he admitted uncomfortably. He had been a little over insistent that night, and maybe he had come across as being a bully, though he hadn't meant to, it had been the urgency of the situation driving him beyond his normal behaviour. "You said you were going to put your baby up for adoption, and that you weren't going to throw your career away to become a coupon-clipping single mom; what changed your mind?"

Loren looked at her daughter and said simply, "She did."

Finding that while he and Loren had been talking that Trish and Jen had not only prepared a light lunch but had also set the table, Harm stuck his head back into the family room to summon Loren to the table, while Trish called Frank up from the depths of the basement. Lunch was simple, as was the conversation; the only reference made to the conversations held earlier was Trish's breezy, "And did everyone play nice this morning?" and in the absence of any evidence to the contrary, she plunged into plans for the acquisition of a dress for Loren, covering such avenues of opportunity as Mission Valley or Fashion Valley and Westfield Malls, her enthusiasm was infectious and even the still reluctant Loren found herself dragged into the conversation as her opinions of style, material and colour were suborned. At length when Loren confessed she was no longer sure of her dress size, Trish urged the two younger women to go to Loren's room armed with tape measure and pencil and paper, while she and Frank cleared up after lunch. Harm had pleaded off that duty on the grounds that he had to make a couple of important phone calls.

His first call was to a man he considered his frenemy and he waited for him to pick up at the other end.

"Hey, Webb, this is Rabb. I'm in San Diego, and I need a favour."

"What do you want this time, Rabb?" CIA Agent Clayton Webb's voice was filled with suspicion mixed with resignation.

"I need you to take a peek at a Service Record for me."

"Why don't you do it yourself?"

"Because it's got to be done under the radar and if I use a terminal here, I'll be leaving an electronic trail eight miles wide! Come on Webb, with your super spook computer crap it won't take more than a minute."

"OK, who, and what am I looking for?"

"Lieutenant Loren Singer, USN, and I need to know exactly what fruit salad she's been awarded."

"Is that it? Loren Singer's ribbons, that's what you disturbed me for on a Saturday afternoon? OK. Hold on a minute... there... wait... wait... OK got it, now are you ready? OK... here goes..."

Harm scribbled furiously for a minute and said cheerfully, "Thanks Webb, I owe you one!"

"Yeah, you do, and don't think I won't collect!"

Armed with this new information, he returned to the family room while he waited for Jen and Loren to finish their measuring. Trish was waiting for him, with a knowing smile on her face and said, "I know you are up to something Harm. Jen tried to wring it out of me, and was most disappointed that I didn't know. What have you been telling that girl that she suddenly things I am the source of all knowledge?"

"Nothing much, mom, just that you're devious, cunning, totally committed to getting your own way, and that I love you very much!"

"Flatterer!" scolded Trish, but secretly pleased that Harm was now so relaxed that he could initiate teasing jokes rather than just going along with as had been his previous habit.

The muffled sounds of outraged infant hunger broke out as Alexandra once again made her demands known to the whole world, and Trish and Harm exchanged looks. Trish's look said very plainly that this was what he had in store for him; Harm's wince acknowledged that truth. Alexandra's cries stopped abruptly as Loren responded to her daughter's needs, and it was very shortly after that that Jen joined mother and son, handing Harm as sheet of paper covered by notes in Jen's careful left-handed writing. Jen pulled a comical face, "It's a good thing Alexandra woke up when she did, I think Loren was about to have a fit, she was cursing up and down that she was going to have to put in some serious exercise to get back into shape, or she was going to have to buy a whole new slew of uniforms!"

Harm quickly scanned the sheet and said, "You, my darling, are a wonder! Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go out for a few hours! I'll be back by six!" And planting a quick kiss, he was headed for the door before either mother or fiancée could stop him

Their questions as to where he was going, what he was doing and why he was doing he met with "I can't tell you! It's a secret."

Jen and Trish looked at each other and then said simultaneously, "He _is_ up to something!"


	12. Uniform Code

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 12  
>Uniform Code<strong>

Harmon Rabb sat back in his seat with a silent sigh of relief. He could not believe how complex and complicated a task it had been to get five adults and an infant to the airport on time and with all their belongings. Especially when three of the adults were navy officers with a habit of obedience to orders, practice in packing and being ready for movement when the executive order was given. Yet Frank and Trish had been equally prepared, so just what the hell was it that had been the disruptive element? The only other factor, and one he had admittedly dismissed, was Alexandra, but how could a twelve-day old baby have caused such havoc?

Trish looked across the aisle at her harassed son; his thoughts were plain to see for anyone who knew him, especially his mother, and she looked from him towards Loren, sat with Alexandra's portable crib safely strapped into the seat next to her. Harm would learn, she reflected with an inward smile, Harm would learn. Especially when Jennifer presented him with his own daughter - she had learned that Jen was convinced it was a girl-child she was carrying. In the meantime, Alexandra was very capable of teaching Harm a lesson or two.

Harm felt his mother's gaze on him and looked back at her with a questioning expression on his face, Trish's smile told him that all was well, he had done all he could to get everything in order and it wasn't his fault that the plane was some twenty-odd minutes behind schedule. He grinned wryly in return and thinking that if Mac had been with them, although she might not have done anything to ease his difficulties, she could at least have told him, with that uncanny accuracy of hers, exactly how many minutes they were adrift Still, it had only been today that anything had happened to upset his plans. His mission on Saturday had gone well, and the fruits of it he had collected yesterday and they were now safely stowed with the rest of the baggage in the 'plane's hold, and he had even managed to keep his secret from Jen who had used every feminine wile in the book to winkle it out of him, and some tricks, he remembered with a grin, that were not only in the book but were probably illegal, were certainly immoral and very, very private. He just hoped that he hadn't seriously misjudged in his intentions, but he had faith he had not.

The only other cloud on his personal horizon hadn't actually been a black cloud, more of a dingy grey. Trish had taken Jen and Loren on a shopping expedition on Monday afternoon and Frank had had to call in at the corporate headquarters in the business district of San Diego, leaving only Harm to care for his niece. Alexandra hadn't cared a bit whom held her or saw to her needs, as long as they were seen to, but Loren had only with great difficulty been persuaded that not only did she need a short break - no more than three hours - Trish promised, but that Harm was quite capable of supervising Alexandra while she slept. And for the first couple of hours that had been so, and even when Alexandra woke and demanded that she be fed Harm had had no problem in retrieving the specially marked bottle from the fridge and warming it gently in accordance with the printed instructions he had been left. Shortly after the bottle, however it became apparent that Alexandra was adding he own particular fragrance to the atmosphere and was communicating her discomfort in no uncertain terms. Vague memories of testing water temperature with an elbow and the necessity of the application of baby powder jostled in Harm's mind and what happened next was probably the most prolonged exercise in diaper changing in the history of human evolution. Eventually a now content Alexandra decided that she was comfortable enough to resume her interrupted slumber, leaving a harassed Harm to contemplate his methods and their errors and to clean up the disaster zone that had, until he'd started on what should have been a simple procedure, been the bathroom.

The return of an excited female trio laden with large carrier bags blazoned with the names of some of La Jolla's more expensive women's wear shops had done nothing to improve his mood, and for the first time in years he'd wished for a cigar.

During that evening Jen and Trish, and to a lesser extent, and to his surprise Loren, had coaxed and cajoled him into a better humour, so that when Frank had returned from San Diego he had been able to greet him with a fair degree on insouciance, and was able to join him on the patio for a beer with no more than a wry and humorous recounting of the events of the afternoon.

Jen had confounded him that evening. He had retired to bed to find it already occupied by Jen - they had given up all pretence of having separate rooms - but a Jen who was crying softly. Shaken by her apparent distress, he had been utterly surprised by her turning to him, and smiling through her tears had sniffled that nothing was wrong, she was so very, very happy and that Trish and Frank were far too kind to her, much kinder than she deserved, and that she wasn't able to tell him what was wrong. The lawyer in him recognised the contradictory nature of her statement, but the man in him decided it was best to keep quiet, and that it was probably just hormones kicking in. He was to remember that diagnosis in later months and wince at his naivety.

The remaining three days had passed without any major upsets, although Loren's prickles had shown through a couple of times. Interestingly enough, he noted that her wariness seemed confined to him, and not directed at Trish, Frank or Jen, and on mentioning this to Jen, she replied smugly enough that she and Loren had come to some sort of understanding, and that it was all his fault, and as for Loren not showing her hackles to Trish, well that was no surprise; nobody, Jen declared, could possibly dislike or stay mad at Trish for very long. Uneasily aware that that the three women in his life seemed to have formed an unholy trinity, that they were spending a lot of time cloistered in Loren's room, and that circumstance and the relationship between them could have possibly disastrous long-term consequences for him, Harm decided to let the question of Loren's quirks drop. He retained however a slight sense of uneasiness as he tried to forecast Loren's possible reactions to the surprise he had in store for her.

Had he known of Loren's feelings, Harm would have probably felt a common link. Loren had survived for fifteen years on her own. She had fought hard to get where she was and had developed what she had thought to be a hard shell around her inner self, as well as an independent spirit. She now, to her consternation, found herself bound up in a situation where everything in her life seemed to be spinning out of control. Not only was she now a mother, someone whom she had not expected be for a few years yet, but it also felt like Trish had penetrated her armour and had assumed command of her very being and that she was making all the decisions. True, she proposed her ideas, listened to any objections Loren might raise, agreed with her that Loren was probably right, but then Loren somehow found that she was doing exactly what Trish had suggested in the first place. But Trish did what she did with such an air of innocent helpfulness that even while she recognised that she was being played, Loren could not be angry with her.

It was impossible too, to be angry with Frank. He appeared to take a background role to his lively wife, but she had noticed that whenever Trish was on the verge of being just a little too pushy, a glance and a raised eyebrow from Frank were sufficient to rein her in. Frank it seemed was more in control that was apparent at first sight. He had also more or less openly declared that he was on her side. He confided in her that the combination of Trish and Harm was a powerful alliance, and as he knew from personal experience, very difficult to withstand, and the addition of Jen, bound as she would be to Harm, could make life very difficult for both himself and Loren, and that unless they made up their minds to hang together they would be more than likely be hanged separately. While she recognised the source of his misquotation, it would be untrue to say that his over-dramatic use of the metaphor reduced her to giggles, but it did bring a smile of genuine amusement to her face, and she was grateful for his assurance that he wouldn't let her be pushed into anything she really objected to and that he would keep her and Alexandra's best interest at heart, and that he would intervene against anything proposed by _anybody_ that he thought was contrary to those interests. That he informed her included Loren herself. So she had best stop being so damn' tiresome about finding a motel room until she could move back into her old apartment, and just accept, for the weekend at least, that she and Alexandra would be staying as his guests in the Hilton, where he had reserved rooms not just for Trish and himself but also for Jen and for Loren with Alexandra.

She'd had a couple of spats with Jen too, mostly because she thought Jen was trying a little too hard to be nice to her and was being a little too generous. She had after their second argument - on the subject of the dress for Loren's role as matron of honour - been slightly mollified when Jen had explained that she hadn't meant to suggest that Loren couldn't have provided herself with a suitable outfit, it was just that she wanted to do something for her in celebration of Alexandra's entry into the world., and Jen had been careful to choose a style that Loren could wear as an evening dress and in the blonde's favourite light blue shade,

Not that Jen had been entirely truthful; yes, she had wanted to do something for Loren to mark Alexandra's arrival, but she also knew that even on a Lieutenant's pay Loren would, perhaps not struggle, but would find it a challenge to provide a Washington's apartment high-rent cost and meet all the additional expense that raising Alexandra would incur, and would hardly be able to indulge herself in luxuries. Jen, before Loren's departure on leave, had seen her on a few occasions in civilian dress and had been impressed with the other woman's sense of style and taste, and she guessed that the new mother would miss not being able to present herself to the world in the manner to which she had been formerly used. Additionally, Jen had been grateful to accept a bundle of maternity clothes at a negotiated price that would not only save her far more money in the coming months than she had spent on the elegantly understated dress she had presented to Loren, but were also as stylishly designed and cut as their purpose would allow. A far cry, she thought wryly, from the maternity uniform she would have to wear, certainly for her third trimester, and depending on how big she got, maybe even earlier.

The flight east was uneventful, well almost, Trish had produced her favourite time-passing tool, her game of Travel Scrabble, and even Loren, although officially excusing herself from the game, had double-teamed with Frank to make life difficult for the other three players, and had shown an inventiveness and tactical sense that made Harm glad that he wasn't going head to head with her, until Alexandra had interrupted proceedings with her need for nourishment and a diaper change. Loren had turned away from the others to allow herself some privacy for the first part of Alexandra's programme, but had allowed Harm to observe just how a diaper should be changed. A learning experience, she told him with heavy sarcasm, that he might just come to appreciate in times to come.

The necessary re-fuelling stop at Oklahoma City had given them all the welcome opportunity to stretch their legs, although the Gulfstream allowed far more space for each individual than even the most comfortable of first class seats on a commercial flight.

As Frank had said, one of the advantages of private charter flights was the speed, once they had landed at DC's Ronald Regan airport, with which they were able to deplane and have their luggage loaded into the Chrysler MPV rental that he had organised and the now-tired party were soon headed for the Washington Hilton Hotel.

Harm still had two more tasks before he could finally head back to the Union Station district and turn in. He had to collect Jen's dress whites from the apartment she shared with three other female Petty Officers, thankfully none of them employed at JAG, and the delivery of the surprise package he had been so busy arranging during his time in La Jolla. However, a last minute change of plan caused him a little concern.

"Harm, it'll be easier and raise fewer questions if I go with you to my old place to pick up my dress whites."

While agreeing that Jen's plan would be more discreet, he hoped that she wouldn't remark on the package that he had deliberately left in the Chrysler, at present their only form of transport. As he considered this, a solution to at least two of their problems sprang to mind. "Jen that's a damn' good idea and I think that we could kill two birds with one stone. After we collect your stuff, let's swing by the apartment, and I'll pick up the 'vette, the extra set of wheels will come in handy. I'm half expecting Keeter and Skates to call from the railroad station asking to be picked up, either tonight or early tomorrow morning; I don't expect them to travel in uniform, so they'll probably want to arrive early and give themselves time to change!"

"Whatever you say, my darling!" Jen's tone was so honey-sweet that Harm shot her a suspicious glance. He was not reassured by what he saw; she looked for too innocent to be anything other than guilty. I knew it, he thought, she's plotting something! Hastily running through all the arrangements that had been made to ensure the smooth conduct of tomorrow's programme he could find nothing that she could, or would want to disrupt, but he remained unconvinced as to the nature of whatever it was that Jen had got planned. But even with his limited, but rapidly growing, knowledge of her, he realised that he was unlikely to get anything more out of her. More? He asked himself, she hadn't let out a damn' thing!

To his relief, nothing happened to disrupt his hastily amended plans for that evening. Jen spent very few minutes in her apartment and reappeared with a suit-bag and her cover, which she carefully loaded into the Chrysler before settling back into the front passenger seat.

"That was quick work," Harm said as he aimed the rental in the direction of Union Station.

"Yes, it was," she agreed, and then taking pity on him, she added, "they were as full of questions as an egg is of meat, but I just told them that I'd answer them all after tomorrow - I just didn't say how long after tomorrow!"

Grinning at her words, Harm continued to drive. In truth, he could not do anything other than admire the way in which she had handled two or possibly three other inquisitive women, who must have been eaten alive with curiosity over her sudden and to them unexplained week long absence and then her sudden reappearance and equally rapid disappearance.

Once outside his apartment, he grabbed his package off the seat of the Chrysler and waving her off, he watched and waited until she had driven out of sight, before backing the 'vette out of the garage and heading back to the Hilton.

The package which he had now unwrapped proved to be a suit bag, which he carried slung over one forearm as he made his way along the hallway to Loren's room. Knocking on the door he heard her ask "Yes, who is it?"

"Loren, it's Harm, I need to talk with you for a few minutes."

"Can't it wait?"

"Er... no, I need to speak with you now, please."

"Alright, wait a minute."

The door opened to reveal Loren tying the belt of one of the hotel's bath robes in which she was wrapped. "Come on in then, but don't make a noise, I've just got her to go down, and I don't need her waking again until she decides. What's so all-fired important that it can't wait until tomorrow?"

Now that the time had come, Harm found himself unaccountably tongue-tied. This phase of his plan was unexpectedly proving to be the most difficult. "Er... it's this," he said indicating the suit-bag. "I... er... really don't want to cause offence, and I know you've had a lot to put up with Jen and Trish bullying you into accepting your dress... but... as the uniform of the day is dress whites, you might want to... you might prefer... er... that is..."

Suspicion had been growing in Loren's eyes as Harm had fumbled his way through his explanation, and holding her hands out she wordlessly accepted the suit-bag that he had proffered. Laying it on the bed, she unzipped the bag to reveal a pristine, brand new suit of dress whites, complete with her badges of rank and her medals. In her surprise, her first instinct was one of anger, and spinning back to face Harm, she demanded. "Just what the hell is this? How dare you..." and then as realisation dawned, she said, "No... it's not about me, is it... This is for Jennifer isn't it? But how did you... I mean... so quickly, and how did you guess my size... oh... that sneaky, devious, unprincipled girl! You two deserve each other!" She then smiled, a genuine, warm specimen of a Loren Singer smile, and added "Harm, I really mean that, you two do deserve each other, and I hope you will be very happy together. And Harm, thank you for this," she indicated the uniform on the bed, "but you'll have to let me repay you."

Relieved at her acceptance of his gift, Harm replied, "Not to worry about it Loren," but then seeing her about to protest, "There's no rush, whenever is best for you."

Loren smiled her acknowledgement, while understanding that he was determined that she should never repay him, but equally determined that she would do just that. She checked the contents of the suit-bag, jacket, skirt, cover, two blouses and black tab, but she smiled, how typical of a man. If she was going to wear this tomorrow, she would need to be out and about damn' early tomorrow so she could find both regulation purse and a pair of shoes, but right at this moment she would rather have died than to comment on his oversight. But, "Why two blouses, Commander?"

"Well, all the other measurements I cribbed from Jen's notes while she was measuring you for the dress, but it would have been a little too obvious if she had taken your neck size, and I had to guess, so I got two different size blouses, I just hope one will fit!"

"I'm sure one of them will. Harm, thank you, thank you very much!"

"Loren, I'm hoping all the thanks I need I'll get when I see Jen's face tomorrow!"

Wishing her a good night, he let himself out of her room, and mopping his forehead he thought to himself, that went well! And for once there was no sarcasm to his thought. So with a lighter heart, he made his way back to the parking garage slid into the 'vette and drove home to the apartment.


	13. Go Navy!

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 13  
>Go Navy!<strong>

Harm awoke on the Saturday morning after a restless night with the vague feeling that he needed to be up early and doing, but for a few moments couldn't think why he felt such a pressing need, and then as he sat up in bed, he was reminded by Jen's absence from that same bed that today was his wedding day.

Fortunately for his unexpected and surprising queasiness he had delayed the arrival of Jack Keeter and Beth Hawkes until today so there had been no pressure on him last night to have a traditional bachelor party, so he had escaped even the slightest trace of a hangover. Feeling comforted by his foresight, no matter how accidental, he took a leisurely shower and then shaved with extra attention to both the closeness of the shave and the safety of his face. He had in the past seen more than one bridegroom's face or neck showing the evidence of a shaking hand. Showered shampooed and shaved, he made a breakfast of coffee and oatmeal which went some distance to settling what he now wryly acknowledged was a nervous stomach.

Finishing his breakfast and then rinsing pot, crockery and cutlery under the tap, he moved into the bedroom and laid out his uniform ready for wearing. Everything was in order, as it should be; he had made thorough preparations before departing for La Jolla, the uniform was fresh from the cleaners his shoes highly spit-polished, and giving his medals and his gold pilot's wings one final rub with a soft cloth, he carefully pinned them into place on his jacket. Checking his watch for the one hundredth time, he could no longer restrain his impatience, but taking his time he donned his dress whites, until satisfied that he could do no more and confident in his turnout he left the apartment as a single man for the last time, and making his way down to his waiting car, he started the familiar drive from Washington to Falls Church.

Jen woke after a blissful night's sleep with absolutely no trace of nervousness but rather with a sense of joyful anticipation. Climbing out of bed she made a brief visit to the bathroom to check her face for any overnight blemishes and to clean her teeth before ordering a breakfast of eggs, bacon toast, OJ and coffee from room service.

Whilst eating she reviewed her plans for the day. Thank God, she thought, that Harm had reminded her about collecting her dress whites from her old apartment; but it was so like him, prepare for the worst and then you won't be caught flat-footed if things go wrong. If he hadn't reminded her last night, then by now he would have been pounding on her door in a panic demanding that she go and get them on the instant, and then spent the rest of the morning worrying that she hadn't had time to make sure they were immaculate for the main event of the day. She smiled to herself; he had absolutely no grounds for worry as far as her dress whites were concerned. She just hoped he enjoyed the two little surprises she had dreamed up. OK. One of them had been cooked up while at La Jolla and was mostly Trish's doing, but the other had been all her own work and hadn't been finalised until after a lengthy 'phone call the previous evening after she had at length managed to get rid of Harm for the night. As she finished her breakfast she double checked that everything was ready to her satisfaction before returning to the bathroom for a long shower and shampoo before she started her real preparations. Stripping out of her pyjamas, she caught sight of her reflection, and gave herself a critical inspection. Not too bad she thought; although she wasn't quite so rigorous in her devotion to a vegetarian diet as Harm, she ate sensibly, exercised regularly and while she enjoyed a glass or two of wine on social occasions she rarely over indulged in alcohol and she had never even in her most rebellious days smoked tobacco. Turning so that she could see her profile, she squinted long and hard at her image. Was that just the tiniest beginning of a bump? Or was she imagining it? She came to the sad conclusion that the bump that she thought she saw was only a product of wishful thinking. Stop daydreaming, woman, she told herself, you need to be out of that shower and with your hair dry before Trish and Loren come to check that you hadn't run away during the night. As if!

Loren also awoke early, but unlike Jen she had not had an uninterrupted night's sleep, although Alexandra was no longer demanding to be fed every two hours, her insistence on her need for nursing had woken her mother twice during the night. Loren, again in contrast to Jen, did not have time for a leisurely breakfast, her daughter needed both another feed and to be changed, while she needed to get out of the hotel as soon as the store she had in mind opened its doors. Breakfast for Loren consisted a hasty cup of instant coffee made with the hotel provided in-room facilities, and as soon as she had swallowed that she made her way to Trish and Frank's suite where she passed her sleeping child to a bemused Frank with the greeting "Hi, take care of her for me, please, I'll be back in an hour!" and was gone before Frank had really registered what was happening.

"It's all your fault he accused Trish, "if you hadn't adopted her, she wouldn't be treating us as... free baby sitters!"

"Oh, Frank, hush up now," admonished a smiling Trish, "You know you love Alexandra. You just want to be the grumpy old Grandpa, doesn't he precious?" she continued but addressing her last remark to the supremely oblivious Alexandra.

"True, alas too true," he replied in a mock-mournful voice. "But you'd better take her, so I can finish in the bathroom before you settle in for the duration!"

Trish glowered at her husband in pretended indignation.

Jack Keeter glowered at his passenger. "Whose bright idea was it to leave the drive down here until this morning?" he growled.

"Ah, that would be you, sir," responded Beth Hawkes.

"Dammit, Skates, you're supposed to be my RIO, why didn't you warn me about the traffic on this road on a Saturday morning?"

"I didn't warn you, because if we hadn't had to turn round to get our swords, we would have been in Falls Church twenty minutes ago! And why do we need our swords? I thought Harm specified no swords!"

"Well maybe he did and maybe he didn't, but if he or you think I was going to turn up at my old buddy's wedding without the means of paying him honours on that day then you are both mightily mistook!"

"Good point, Keeter!" Beth smiled. She hadn't much liked Keeter when she had first met him on her assignment to Andrews Naval Air Facility. He had seemed to represent the worst of the old-school navy aviators who actively resented women aircrew, whether as pilots or RIOs, and his jokes and various remarks had her more than once calling him on a yellow light and at one point almost resulted in her lodging an official complaint against him. His string of first dates with very few second dates also left her with the impression that he was rather shallow, a player who was attracted to superficial physical appearances, and as he himself had put it, one 'would rather go to the library than buy a book.' It sounded inoffensive in itself until his listener realised that he was expounding his philosophy on women, dating and marriage. It wasn't until she'd had what started out as a casual lunchtime conversation with an Air Force Major from Andrews AFB Air Traffic Control, who had been one of Keeter's few follow up dates, that she found out that the chauvinistic Keeter of the Naval Air Operations Centre was regarded as a charming and courteous, if slightly old-fashioned date, who not only believed in footing the bill for whatever entertainment was involved in a date, be it dinner, the theatre or even just a picnic, but that he believed in opening doors and holding chairs for whomever he was escorting. Beth didn't have much time for such old world courtesies, she had been trained in the tough world of naval aviation where the women who had succeeded had been compelled to give up some of what being a woman entailed in order to become accepted as one of the guys; a compromise which she thought, but rarely said, sucked. But given Keeter's opinions on sexual matters, she had been mildly and pleasantly surprised that he also had the reputation of being one who never pushed the envelope, accepting that a 'no' meant just that and was not a coyly disguised come-on, and that despite his widely known bluster, he was accounted by the female population of Andrews AFB as being one of the good guys.

Keeter for his part had at first been annoyed by Hawkes' loudly and often expressed feminist views. He was by no means, despite his outer, and self-created, veneer opposed to women in uniform, or even to women in the air, but he was uneasy at them being assigned to combat duties. Not because he doubted their abilities, hell, Rabb had repeatedly told him that the best RIO he had ever flown with was Skates, and his own regular RIO until he had been reassigned to fly a desk had been Lieutenant Jorgenson, also by coincidence named Beth. No, Keeter's objection to women in combat was visceral, women were life givers, life bearers, it was just wrong that they should be exposed to the risk of disfigurement, dismemberment and an ugly, violent death. He realised that these deeply held convictions, if they became known, could cost him his career in the navy but he had been raised by his old-fashioned parents who had instilled in him strongly traditional values, and he could no more overcome them than he could fly without being strapped into a pilot's seat.

His opinion of Skates had changed subtly and slowly over the months he had worked with her. She was not only conscientious and damn' good at her job, but she had a strongly developed sense of right and wrong and possessed both the physical and moral courage to stand by her convictions when she believed she was in the right. He had also discovered when he organised training flights for them both, that Rabb was right, she was a damn' good RIO, and he had no reservations about flying with her - on training missions. Her over assertiveness he had decided was a form of defence against those who slighted her because of her gender or her size. She was, he admitted rather petite, although he had no wish to bring her wrath down upon his head by making comments adverse or otherwise on her lack of stature. He had once witnessed her verbally ripping into a fellow Lieutenant Commander who had unwisely referred to her as Shorty Hawkes within her hearing. She had no patience either with compliments, considering herself to be on the plain side of attractive and all such compliments as misplaced, patronising and condescending. Keeter didn't agree with her self-judgement, but he wasn't stupid enough to say anything to her on the subject. Alright, she wasn't standard Hollywood or Playboy beautiful, but she was attractive in a strange sort of way, and had really beautiful deep brown and hugely expressive eyes set in a strong, distinctive and extremely mobile face that could change its whole aspect in a fraction of a second.

Such thoughts occupied the two occupants of Keeter's Ford until he finally drew up at the guarded entry to the parking lot outside JAG HQ in Falls Church. IDs checked by efficient and polite Marines, Keeter and Skates climbed out of the car and waited for Harm to arrive and give them a lead to the courthouse. They didn't have long to wait until the scarlet Corvette pulled into the car park and a visibly nervous Harm unwound himself from behind the steering wheel and stood to greet them. He was first enveloped in a surprisingly strong embrace from his diminutive former RIO, who pulled his head down and kissed him on the cheek, saying, "Dammit, Hammer, I never thought I'd see the day."

"Hey, it's good to see you again too, Skates. I didn't know you were at Andrews. If I would have known I'd have called you, maybe taken you out on few dates. Who knows, you might have saved me for yourself!"

"Not in this world, Superman! You're way too high risk!"

"Oh, I'm wounded!" he quipped, dramatically clapping his right hand over his heart.

"The hell you are!" she retorted, grinning up at him.

"Hey, Keeter, glad you could make it, buddy!" The two pilots shook hands and gripped each other's upper arm with their left hands.

"I gotta agree with Skates, Rabb; I never thought I'd live to see you in front of judge... well not as the condemned anyway... although if what I've heard of your courtroom shenanigans maybe that's not true either! Skates did you ever hear the story about him letting off a burst of live rounds through the courtroom ceiling during open court?"

"Yeah, I heard something about that, but I just put it down to scuttlebutt."

"Nope. All true, I heard it off that Marine Major he used to partner... is she still around?"

"Mac? Yeah, she's around."

The neutral tone of Harm's voice warned Skates that Keeter was treading on dangerous ground, so she tried to apply a warning nudge without alerting Harm to the by-play. Her efforts were doomed to immediate failure as the target of her attention turned to her with an aggrieved look and demanded, "Hey! What the hell was that for?"

Feeling a rush of blood to her face Skates gave thanks to her unknown ancestors who had given her a dark complexion rather than the red-betraying fair skin of a blonde. "Oh, sorry, I slipped!" she responded with more truth than she realised.

Still, she reflected she had diverted Keeter from what might have been a disastrous line of questioning. Which was just as well, she thought, as Harm sipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small red-velvet covered box. "These he said, clearly enunciating each word, are the rings that are needed for today. Do. Not. Repeat. Do. Not. Lose. Them! Copy?"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Keeter automatically responded to the authority in Harm's voice. Harm turned to Skates, and said, "Skates, I owe you an apology; I've brought you all the way down here under false pretences. I asked if you would be Jen's maid of honour, but she chose someone else, someone she knows, who when we spoke on the 'phone I didn't even know was going to be around. I hope you don't mind, and the truth is, I'd rather have you on my side. I'd really appreciate you having my back today, just like old times when we were flying."

"That's OK, Pappy... sorry, Hammer... I reckon it's best if your woman has someone she knows anyway."

Harm had to bite his tongue to prevent him from saying that his old call-sign would be only too accurate some eight months down the track.

Jen's shower and shampoo had taken her comparatively little time when judged against the long minutes she'd had to spend with hair-dryer and brush in hand. She was disturbed twice, once by Trish who had come to help finish dressing her and again by Loren who to Jen's amazement entered the room rather shyly, but resplendent in her brand new dress whites.

"Loren," Jen gasped, "How did you... where did you...?"

Loren smiled uncertainly, "I take it this is as much a surprise to you as it was to me. These were a late arriving gift especially for me to wear today. I'm not ungrateful for the dress, and I thought I'd wear that to the Club this evening, but I don't want to be the only officer at your wedding not to be wearing the uniform of the day."

Jen gave Loren one of her lop-sided, quizzical grins and said only one word, "Harm?"

Loren just nodded. Jen said, "I'll kill him, I really will! He had no business springing a surprise like that on you! Loren, I think it's fantastic. You look really great. But I wonder how the hell he managed to get your size and get the uniform to fit in such a short... Oh..."

"Yes, 'oh'" replied Loren, "where did you think he got my measurement from? No, it's alright, I can't get mad at you today, it's probably illegal. Anyway this is will be more convenient than the dress if I have to feed Alexandra."

"Damn! I'd forgotten all about that," confessed Jen.

"Well, if you two have quite finished forgiving each other, we need to get started on finishing you off Jen!" interrupted an amused Trish.

"Yeah, let's get this over with or Trish won't have time to see to herself."

"Oh, you just hush up, and don't worry about me, this is your day, I can just about throw on anything and nobody'll notice; I'm not sure that anyone will even see me today!"

The idea that the always exquisitely presented Trish would ever just throw on anything was so ludicrous that both Jen and Loren giggled.

It didn't take much longer for the three to finish final preparations until Jen stood ready to take the first step on the next stage of her life. Promptly at eleven-forty-five hours, as arranged, Frank knocked on Jen's door to say that the cars were ready for them at the Porte Cochère, but having passed on the message he delayed their leaving for a moment as he took a deep breath, smiled and said, "Jennifer, I know it's traditional to say that a bride looks lovely, but in this case, I can honestly say that you do. I could stand here all day, just looking at you, but if I did, Harm would probably me kill me for making you late. I know how particular the military are about punctuality! So we had better not... miss movement... as you people say."

There was one more surprise in store for Frank, Trish and Loren, as they entered the hotel foyer they were approached by a further naval officer, this one from an older generation and whose presence caused Loren to hastily shift Alexandra's portable crib from one side to the other to free her right hand for the required salute. "At ease Lieutenant, Petty Officer. Good morning, Mr and Mrs Burnett, I presume."

"Frank, Trish", said Jen, "may I present to you Rear Admiral Chegwidden, who has consented, after a great deal of persuasion, to give me away today!"

"Rubbish," grunted the Admiral, "I was flattered by the request and jumped at the chance. It's not every Flag Officer that gets the chance to give away one of his Petty Officers! But before we go on to the main event, if you'll grant me a few moments? Thank you. Lieutenant Singer, I am happy to see you looking fit and well... and happy."

"Sir, thank you, sir."

"And is this the source of your happiness?"

"Yes sir. If you will permit me sir," here goes, thought Loren, there's not going to be a better time, "may I present to you Alexandra Maria Rabb."

For a second both Jen and Loren thought that the Admiral was about to have a stroke. He looked wildly around in confusion as his colour mounted, obviously torn between demanding an explanation that he really did not want to hear and mindful of both the surroundings as the occasion. He contented himself with a "Congratulations, Lieutenant, I am sure I'll have the opportunity to make your daughter's better acquaintance in the future," and turning to Jen, he continued, "Legalman Two, I am now entirely at your service."

Jen was safely bestowed in the lead car, and as the Admiral walked around it to open the far door for himself, she looked up at the hovering Loren and said, "I thought that went well, didn't it?" accompanying her words with a reassuring and yet somehow naughty smile.

Harm, Keeter and Skates had already arrived at the Court House, and were installed in the waiting room. Keeter and Skates were talking desultorily while deriving a great deal of quiet amusement from Harm's nervous pacing up and down, and his almost constant glances at his wrist watch. His nerves hadn't been helped by the argument that had ensued when he had noticed that Keeter and Skates had belted their swords. None of his legally trained arguments were of any use against the duo's simple refusal to remove the swords. Keeter only once giving the reason he had given Skates, he would not be found lacking in any particular that might enhance the honour he felt his long-time friend merited on his wedding day.

"Relax, _hombre_," drawled Keeter in manner that he knew would only increase Harm's nervousness, "she's navy; she'll be here on time."

"Unless of course she's got cold feet," contributed Skates in a helpful tone, "It does happen sometimes, doesn't it Keeter? I mean we've all heard of that movie, 'the Runaway Bride', haven't we?"

"Yeah, very funny," snapped Harm, his once again nervous stomach seemingly determined to complete some impossibly complex aerial combat manoeuvres of its own devising.

Then to his relief, the door opened and Trish and Frank entered, Trish carrying a shawl-wrapped and peaceful Alexandra Maria to allow Loren to carry out her duties of matron of honour. Their entrance was sufficient to bring a halt to Keeter and Skates' teasing and bring them to their feet. The arrival of this advance party was the signal that the groom's side should enter the court room itself. Harm took up his position in front of the Justice, with Keeter as his wingman and Skates at his six, with Trish, Frank and Alexandra standing off, while the party waited for the bride's entrance. When Jen entered, all heads automatically turned to watch her walk down the court room towards them, and Keeter opened his mouth as if to address a remark to Harm, but what, if anything, he had intended to say was stopped by the look of stunned incredulity on Harm's face. Jen was wearing a white dress, but it could not by any stretch of the imagination be termed dress whites. She was wearing a high-necked, long-sleeved, full length dress of some heavy silk weave, so skilfully cut that while it was extremely modest it drew the eye to the figure it covered. Her hair she had left unbound and she had covered her head in a wisp of veil that fell to her waist on all sides and was secured by a silver Celtic knot-work chaplet, and she was carrying a simple bouquet of white roses. Harm was so dumbfounded by this unexpected sight that it took Keeter and Skates' stiffening into a brace before he could drag his eyes away from Jen and focus, to his further stupefaction, on the fact that Jen was being supported by the Admiral.

In after years Harm said that he remembered Jen joining him in front of the justice and handing off her bouquet to the waiting Loren, but while he could never recall what the Justice had said during the brief ceremony, he had never forgotten either the sound of Jen's voice, or the words she had said as she had repeated her vows. He just about remembered that somehow or other he had stumbled though his own responses, but he vividly remembered the look on Jen's face as he slid his mother's first wedding ring onto the third finger of her hand. He did remember the justice pronouncing them to be husband and wife together, and taking full advantage of his saying that he could now kiss the bride.

He was so thoroughly engaged in the kiss that he failed to notice Keeter and Skates slip out of the courtroom until he left the building with his wife on his arm, and heard Keeter's voice give an order, "Present arms!" and out of the corner of his eye he saw that his two friends had taken post one each side of the door and had raised their swords to the 'salute'. He pressed Jen's hand for her to pause as he stopped, knowing, and touched by, just what was about to happen. In stentorian tones Keeter pronounced, "Presenting for the first time in public, Commander and Mrs Harmon Rabb, Junior." He paused for breath while some the few passers-by smiled and applauded as they witnessed the impromptu little ceremony. The ripple of applause dying away, Keeter continued with "Carry swords!" and as the swords came down from the salute and Harm led Jen forward he turned the flat of his blade towards Jen and swatted her gently on her butt crying out enthusiastically as he did "Go Navy!


	14. Something Old, Something New

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 14  
>Something Old, Something New<strong>

Keeter's action was accompanied by Jen's squeak of surprise and served to break up the formality of the little tableau. Frank was the first to approach the two principals and kissing Jen lightly on the cheek he then turned to Harm and took his hand in a strong grip. Neither man said anything, the look they exchanged said all that there was to say and words were unnecessary. Trish took Jen in a fierce hug and kissed her, saying, "Dear Jen, I would welcome you to the family, but it seems that we've known you for so long that you are already a part of us. I know you've made Harm very happy, and I know he'll try to do the same for you!"

Jen smiled at her mother in law and said, "Trish, he already has."

The rest of the group came forward to add their own congratulations to the happy couple; Loren, now reunited with Alexandra, surprised them both as she rather awkwardly kissed Jen and Harm on the cheek and wished them well.

Admiral Chegwidden congratulated them both saying, "Commander, Mrs Rabb - Jennifer - I won't say this was an unexpected event, but I will say Jennifer that to be asked to be your supporter was an unexpected privilege and an unexpected honour. I wish you both a bright and happy future. Your leaves expire a week on Sunday midnight, so, Commander, I will see you in my office at oh-eight-hundred hours on the following Monday morning." Nodding his farewell, the Admiral, intent on returning home, moved towards his car.

"But, Admiral, sir," interrupted Jen, stopping him in his tracks, "Your duties aren't over yet, sir. You haven't checked your calendar; you and Professor Cavanaugh are expected at the Army and Navy Country Club at nineteen-thirty hours. Gentlemen in dress whites, no medals or swords, ladies in evening dress," she continued.

Admiral Chegwidden allowed one of his slow grins to appear, "Very well, Petty Officer, thank you for reminding me. And thank you."

Harm shot her a surprised look, it was not like Jen to forget details like how many reservations had been made, but he couldn't say anything now, Keeter and Skates, their swords now safely locked in the trunk of Keeter's car were pressing forward to add their congratulations to the newly weds. Skates threw her arms around Harm's neck and with a wicked grin, kissed him enthusiastically. Keeter, not knowing how Jen would react to any familiarity from a stranger, contented himself with grasping her hand, but Jen was having none of that, "It looks like my husband gets a kiss from all the girls," she said gaily, "so I get to claim a kiss from the only boy here, especially as he's already spanked my butt!"

The joker in Keeter responded to Jen's good humour, so taking her at her word, he kissed her very lightly, but for long enough to be interrupted by Harm's light-hearted warning, "Red Light, Commander!"

Skates gave Jen a brief hug and said with a broad grin, "I got to admit to being just a little bit scared of the woman who could nail down the Hammer. Congratulations, Jennifer!"

"That's Jen to my friends," Jen replied, smiling.

"Are we friends?" questioned Skates.

"From what I've been told," said Jen reaching out to hold both of Skates' hands, "you saved Harm's life. So even if it was by getting into bed with him, in my book that makes you my friend!"

Skates blushed and laughed, "He tells everyone that story! But I keep telling him that it was only scuttlebutt, and wishful thinking - maybe one day he'll believe me!"

While congratulations and wishes for the future of Harm and Jen were being made, the courthouse yard was becoming crowded as another bridal party started to arrive and it quickly became obvious that unless a move was made, it was going to be difficult to extract the array of vehicles without them either becoming blocked in or blocking the new arrivals, and a hasty departure became a necessity. Frank, who had engaged the admiral in conversation, broke off their talk to invite Keeter and Skates to accompany himself, Trish and Loren back to the hotel, while Harm and Jen headed back to the sanctuary of their Washington apartment.

Once safely in the 'vette and with the tricky manoeuvring demanded by the crowded nature if the parking lot completed, harm turned towards Jen. "I haven't had the chance yet to say it, but you are stunning. I nearly fainted when you walked in wearing that dress. But where and when and how did you get it so quickly?"

Jen smiled, "Well, you know we decided on dress whites for the wedding, but Trish... can I still call her Trish, or should I start calling her mom?"

"Stop changing the subject..." Harm grinned, "Mrs Rabb!"

"Oh, I do like the sound of that," sighed Jen with a smile of contentment.

"But you were saying about mom?" He prompted her.

"Yes, Trish was having none of the 'dress whites nonsense', as she put it, so she..." and tears welled up in Jen's eyes at the memory, "so she gave me this fantastic dress. Harm, it was her own dress from the day she married your dad... she kept it all these years," she continued wonderingly.

Harm felt his own eyes sting, and quickly shook his head to prevent blurred vision while he drove. "Uh... that's not all, Jen, the ring I put on your finger, mom gave it to me last week in La Jolla..." his voice faded before he made a recovery, "It's from the same day as your dress."

Jen looked down at the ring on her finger, and suddenly had difficulty in seeing it as her own vision blurred. Gulping and determined not to cry, she said, "We must both thank her, together, tonight, and before we get too involved in celebrating!"

Harm agreed and then concentrated on his driving for a few minutes to allow Jen to regain her poise, and then said gently, "About this evening Jen, we only made six reservations. With Loren, the Admiral and the Professor that brings the total up to nine..."

She smiled fondly at him, "All squared away, Harm, I made a couple of 'phone calls, 'Hi, this is Admiral Chegwidden's Legalman, there is a Saturday evening reservation in the name of Rabb...'" she mimicked herself.

Harm looked at her in amazement, not sure whether he was horrified, impressed or amused by what she had just said, "Jen, you told the Club that _the Admiral_ was changing the reservation?"

"Of course not, that would be lying, and lying is bad," Jen protested virtuously, "I just said that I was the Admiral's Legalman, and that is the truth - well, almost. I can't help what the people I talk to think, can I?" she asked, her tone of innocence totally at variance with the pure mischief that filled her eyes.

Harm looked at her, "And people say that I am devious," he commented in tones of deep reproach.

Jen giggled, "Well then I must be catching it from you!"

Harm could only laugh helplessly, which was enough to encourage Jen's giggles to bloom into her rich, full laughter.

Pulling into the space in front of the apartment building, Harm was surprised when Jen went to the 'vette's trunk and pulled out a suit-bag and a vanity case. "When did you put that in there?" He wondered.

"Oh, Trish put it in there before the ceremony, when we arrived at the court house," Jen replied as he pressed the elevator 'call' button. "I need something to wear this evening, and I didn't want to have to be rushing around this afternoon. Not when I could be spending some 'us' time with my new husband instead," she said meaningfully.

Harm pretended to be alarmed, "Hey, easy there, Tiger, I'm fragile!"

"Well then, I guess I'd better feed you up before I ravish you," she teased him.

On reaching the apartment, however, the first thing she did was to open a window. "I don't believe it," she said, "we've only been gone a week and this place smells musty already!"

"Yeah, I suppose so," Harm agreed, "but the thing is it always smells a bit stale whenever it's been closed up for a while. It's something I got used to every time I got back from TAD somewhere."

"That's no good, Harm, it's another reason we need to look for somewhere else."

"Yeah... but..."

"But what?"

"But we've only been married a little under two hours, and you're already nagging me!"

"Nagging you? Ohhh! I'll show what nagging is if you're not careful, sailor!"

"I'd rather you showed me how loving you can be," his tone leaving no doubt as to his meaning.

"Oh, I can do that," she replied, her eyes darkening, "but you'll have to help with the buttons in back!"

"What? You mean there's no pull tab on that thing?"

Jen, already halfway towards the bedroom stopped and looked back over her shoulder, "Why don't you come and find out, Commander?"

It was a couple of hours later that Harm awoke from a refreshing sleep and grinned as his memory told him where he was and how different this awakening was from his previous one in this same bed.

"What's so funny?" Jen asked.

Lying on his back, Harm opened his eyes to look straight up to Jen's face. She was on her side, propped on one elbow as she smiled down at him. Harm stretched luxuriously, "I was just thinking, you are so good for me. I feel so relaxed now, and I was remembering how tense and nervous I felt when I woke up here this morning."

"You were nervous?" Jen asked, a note of disbelief in her voice.

"Damn right I was!" he affirmed, "I was so nervous that I was almost too afraid to shave, this morning."

"That is just too funny," Jen chuckled, "I always thought it was the bride who was supposed to nervous on her wedding day!"

"And were you?"

"Was I nervous about the wedding? No, not even a little bit!"

"Maybe we should re-write the rules, then," he suggested.

"Maybe, but there's one set of rules, that can't be re-written."

"And they are?"

"They are the rules governing how long it takes me to get ready for the biggest evening in my life so far!"

On her return from her shower, Jen banished Harm from the bedroom while she prepared for the evening, and to be fair to her and in part thanks to her navy training, it didn't take too long for her to finish dressing, and Harm gladly admitted that even if she had kept him waiting, the end was well worth waiting for. She had dressed in a simply cut, full length sleeveless, russet silk dress, that left her shoulders bare except for two slender straps over her shoulders, its square-cut neckline was just low enough to show the beginning of her cleavage and the bodice was close-fitted enough to hint at the figure it covered until it reached her hips, where it flared out gently into the skirt. Around her neck she wore a single string of garnets which matched the silver mounted pair of garnet studs in her ears and around her right wrist a matching bracelet. She had put her hair up into a simple but effective plaited coil on the crown of her head, but had left one gently curled tress to hang down to her shoulder, in a style that emphasised the length of her neck. If Harm had thought her beautiful in her wedding dress, he could now only stare at her in awe. "My God," he eventually breathed, "and you chose to marry _me_?""

Jen blushed slightly from the sheer pleasure his reaction had given her, and attempted to cover her emotion by replying, "Yeah, but if you don't get your six into your dress whites in time to stop us being late for our own wedding breakfast, then it's likely to be one of the shortest marriages on record!"

Thanks to the prompt arrival of the pre-booked car - another example of Frank's planning and trade contacts - they were neither late nor early at the Army and Navy Club. Shown into the private dining room off the main lounge, they found the rest of the wedding party waiting for them, Frank's black tuxedo in stark contrast to the dress whites of the other the male guests, and the women in evening dresses, Loren in the new pale blue silk that Jen had so deviously acquired for her in La Jolla. As a foolishly grinning Harm entered the room with a radiant Jen on his arm, the guests turned to face them and applauded gently. In response to Harm's questioning look at the muted welcome, Trish smiled and said, "Your youngest guest is resting, and I gave strict instructions she was not to be woken."

Loren gave a somewhat abashed smile, and a hint of an apologetic shrug. Harm smiled warmly and reassuringly at her, and taking a deep breath he turned towards the admiral, Keeter and Skates, and said, "Has anyone bothered to introduce you to my niece?"

Keeter, quick to sense a sudden tension in the air, said, "No... we saw the young lady earlier at the Courthouse, but we haven't yet been formally introduced."

"Then if you'll permit me, Admiral, Commanders, this is my niece, Alexandra Maria Rabb. Admiral, you'll excuse me for a moment, Commanders, this is Alexandra's mother, Lieutenant Loren Singer. Lieutenant, allow me to introduce Commander Jack Keeter and Lieutenant Commander Elizabeth Hawkes."

The three officers acknowledged the introduction in flurry of handshakes and greetings, and Skates moving towards the portable crib in the corner, almost immediately won Loren's approval as she breathed, "Oh, she's beautiful."

Her reaction surprised Keeter who had been watching her with idle curiosity, and his expression became thoughtful.

Harm who had just seated Jennifer and was about to take his own seat was interrupted by a low pitched growl, "Walk with me Commander. Why don't you join us Lieutenant?" Admiral Chegwidden's question was not exactly an invitation and was directed at Loren.

Opening the French Windows, the admiral led his two subordinates out onto the patio and pretending to be fascinated by the silhouette of a tree silhouetted against the evening sky he cleared his throat, and said rather uncomfortably, "I was going to leave this until another time, but you opened the door this evening, and I guess this may just be as good a time as any. Commander, you just introduced Lieutenant Singer's child as your niece?"

"Yes, sir."

"And Lieutenant Singer, are you happy that the Commander did so? You don't wish to make any claim as to... a closer relationship?"

"No, sir, it is exactly as Commander Rabb states, he is my daughter's uncle. I have no, and I wish to make no, further claims upon him than that. My child's father is the Commander's brother, Sergei Zhukov Rabb."

The admiral let the tension ebb from his stance and at last turned to face them, "Commander, Lieutenant, I regret that I had to broach such a personal and delicate matter at all; I dislike interfering in my Officers' private lives, but on occasion I am compelled to do so, especially when there may be issues affecting good order and discipline. And I deeply regret Commander having broached the matter at all, tonight of all nights. But I am sure that the pair of you realise that speculation and scuttlebutt will be running rampant in the office once this news gets out, and it will get out, as I am sure you are aware, no matter how discreet you may be. However now that I am informed of the facts of the case, you may both rely on my support and that I will do my utmost to scotch any baseless rumours that come to my attention. That will be all, thank you."

"Yes, sir!" Replied Harm and Loren together

Their return to the dining room was marked by Jen's anxious look directed towards Harm, which he met by a hand dropped on her shoulder as he passed her chair, and a whispered, "It's OK, I'll tell you later!"

It was only as Harm took his assigned seat at the head of the table and looked down its length at Jen sitting opposite he realised that somehow the table settings had been turned through one hundred and eighty degrees, but as everyone else had now taken their places and the waiters were placing soup plates in front of the guests, he shrugged his shoulders and settled down to eat his dinner, entertain his neighbours and look down the table at his wife.

As time passed the initial stiffness caused by the admiral's summoning of Harm and Loren faded away, helped along by the sounds of laughter and music drifting in through the doors to the main club-room lounge, and by the time Keeter called for attention and made his groomsman's speech, which as always on these occasions contained one or two humorous but not too scandalous references to some of Harm's past misadventures, the atmosphere was one of totally relaxed companionship. Even the admiral had unbent enough to regale the incredulous Skates of his version of the day Harm had loosed the now infamous burst of gunfire through the courtroom ceiling, despite Harm's joking objection that the admiral's testimony was inadmissible based as it was on hearsay, as he hadn't even been in court at the time.

Towards the end of Admiral Chegwidden's anecdote Harm had become aware of a presence behind and to one side of him, but disregarding it other than wishing the damn' waiters wouldn't crowd him so, he paid it no further attention. As an outbreak of laughter greeted the end of the admiral's story, a respectful voice asked him if the Commander's party would care to remove to their reserved tables in the lounge. Harm had not expected to move, but the Chief Petty Officer obviously anticipated them doing so, and good-humouredly yielding to circumstances Harm gave the signal for the party to move on. As he and Jen waited for everyone to clear the room, they were approached by Loren, who said, "I want to say thank you for including me in your day, but I think I'll be getting back to the hotel now. Alexandra's been so very good, but she's starting to wake up, and I don't really want to take her into a large party. Frank's getting hold of a car for me now, so I'll say goodnight to you both, and... thank you again."

Sorry to see Loren leave the party so early, but understanding her need to do so, Harm and Jen wished her a good night and waited until she had seated herself in the waiting car and was driven out of sight.

As they walked through to the main lounge, Jen slipped her arm through Harm's and leaning her head against his shoulder she said, "I gotta hand it to you, you've done some pretty slick organising for this evening."

"Don't give praise where it's not due, Jen, all the logistics for this evening were in Frank's hands, it's him you should be thanking."

"Harm, don't tell me you let Frank pay for all those cars these evening on top of everything else he and Trish have done for us!"

"Nope, he didn't pay for them. He used his trade contacts, there's got to be some perks in being a used-car salesman!" Jen, by now fully aware of just what Frank did for a living only laughed, her amusement only adding to her beauty in Harm's eyes.

They rejoined the rest of their party, but the admiral, supported by Frank and Keeter insisted that they dance together before they could sit down. Leading Jen out onto the dance floor, Harm led her through the dance, and as the music stopped he brought her back to the group, but again before they could sit, Keeter intercepted them and whirled Jen away again. Harm stood open mouthed until Skates insisted that he dance with her. Keeter was succeeded by Frank as Jen's partner, and Skates by Trish, and although Harm felt rather foolish dancing with his mother, he couldn't deny her this pleasure this evening. Harm's final obligatory dance was with Meredith Cavanaugh, while Jen was partnered by the admiral. Finally, he thought as the music for the dance came to an end, he could sit down and relax. As a slightly flushed Jen came to join him a voice behind him said, "With the Commander's permission I would like to ask Mrs Rabb for the honour of this dance!"

Harm shot to his feet and turned, gathered in a semi-circle behind him, all in dress whites were half a dozen aircrew from his days aboard the _Patrick Henry_, the speaker was his old wingman 'Tuna'. A round of rough embraces, back slapping and comments that should have had Jen screaming 'Yellow Light!', followed, and Harm bowing to the inevitable watched his bride led away into the dance, by a succession of his old buddies. Harm knew exactly who to blame for this addition to the celebration and had no hesitation in pointing his finger at the unabashedly guilty Keeter, who mocked Harm's threats of retribution and explained with great glee and in great detail how difficult it had been at such short notice to gather together so many of Harm's old squadron-mates from the distant parts to which the navy had dispersed them.

Neither Harm nor Jen had much energy left to them when their assigned car delivered them back to their apartment in the early hours of the morning. But their tiredness was the pleasant aftermath of achievement rather than the dead-beat exhaustion of over-exertion. As they slid into bed and Jen took up her favourite position with her head resting on Harm's shoulder, she revived enough to raise her head to look at him and ask, "Did you notice just how often Keeter and Skates were dancing together?"

To her disgust, Harm didn't even revive enough to open his eyes or to answer more than, "M'mm."


	15. First Moves

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 15  
>First Moves<strong>

Sunday morning broke to bright clear skies with just the hint of a chill in the first hours before the sun's warmth forced the temperature upwards. Jennifer Rabb woke and from her position with her head resting on her new husband's shoulder she squinted up at him. He was flat on his back with his eyes shut and his mouth slightly open, his breathing was audible, but it would be unfair, she smiled indulgently, to call it snoring. Seized with a devil of mischief, Jen propped herself on her left elbow and leaning over Harm, she allowed several strands of her long hair to just touch his face, and then moving her head from side to side she watched as his face twitched and grimaced as her trailing hair tickled his face.

It must, Jen thought, have taken two minutes for her to wake Harm like that, as he first tried to raise his trapped right arm to fend off whatever it was on his face, and then made several ineffectual swipes with his left hand to swat away... "What th' hell is't?" he mumbled as he finally surfaced from sleep.

Jen's delighted laughter drove away the last dregs of his sleep, and having realised what had woken him he wound his hand into her hair and gently drew her face down to his. Having thoroughly kissed her, he let her go and curled his arm around her as once again she laid her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat.

"We've got to get up," he said at last.

"M'mm, why?" asked Jen.

"Because we need to get up and drive back to the hotel where we are supposed to have breakfast with Frank and Trish, and then we need to go to your old apartment and move all your stuff back here. I know we've now got two pay-checks coming in, but we don't need to spend out on two lots of rent. Besides, there are decisions to be made."

"Decisions about what?"

"Well, where _we _are going to live, that should be quite simple, but we also need to take Loren and Alexandra into consideration. I know the sub-let on Loren's apartment expires at the end of her maternity leave, and she's expecting to move straight back in there. But can you see the Admiral welcoming Alexandra into the bull-pen any time in the next eighteen years? So, Alexandra will need day-care when Loren comes back to work. Loren can't resign yet, she still owes the navy a few years for her college and law school tuition. And on a single Lieutenant's pay I can't see her paying rent in George Town and paying for child care."

Jen propped herself up on her elbow again. "You know, you're spending so much time thinking about Loren and Alexandra that I'm beginning to think I should be jealous," she informed him with a smile. "How come I don't get my future all planned out first thing on our first Sunday as a married couple?"

"Because Jennifer Rabb, you have me and I have you, and we _are_. All Alexandra has is Loren, and make no mistake, while I am beginning to like the woman as much as I respect her drive, intellect and integrity, in dealing with her, my first priority, and my first duty of care is to Alexandra and if making sure Loren is safe and comfortable is a pre-requisite for ensuring that Alexandra is safe and comfortable then I shall make Loren as safe and as comfortable as I possibly can and as far as she will let me. And that last point Jen, is likely to be the biggest challenge I will have to face in all my dealings with her."

Jen gazed into his face searching for what she did not quite know, and after what seemed a long, drawn out interval she kissed him quickly and lightly and said, "Harmon Rabb, you are a _good_ man."

Harm was about to make a joking reply when he saw that Jen was absolutely serious; he made the only possible response by returning her kiss and saying, "Jen, I love you."

Jen did laugh then but in delight, and throwing the covers off she rolled off the bed totally unfazed by her nudity and walked towards the bathroom. Harm lay back and enjoyed the sight of his wife's rear view as she, looking back over her shoulder with a wicked smile, deliberately exaggerated her hip movement as she disappeared through the doorway.

An hour later, showered, shampooed and fortified with liquid tar, they made their way down to the Corvette and drove back towards the Hilton. Arriving at the hotel, the car, Harm's pride and joy, was reluctantly handed into the care of a uniformed parking valet and Harm and Jen entered the hotel's lobby Practically the first sight that met their eyes was a figure in navy dress whites drowsing on one of the couches. A closer look, after their classic double take, revealed that the naval officer in question was Jack Keeter. Harm with a wide grin on his face, signalled Jen for quiet and then crept up on his dozing target, when he had approached within a couple of feet he drew breath and shouted "Eject! Eject! Eject!"

Keeter sprang to his feet his face white and his eyes wide in alarm and then as his legs became trapped between couch and coffee table, he lost his balance and arms wind milling frantically fell backwards on to the couch. Jen was forced to bite her knuckles to stop from bursting into laughter, not only at the look on Keeter's face but at the scandalised reaction of the very superior looking young woman on the concierge's desk.

Keeter now realising that he had been well and truly pranked was gobbling in outrage as he tried to form a coherent sentence to blast his trickster, while Harm just shook his head helplessly at the offended expression on his friend's face.

Keeter was finally mollified by the appearance of the pot of coffee ordered by Jen, and in response to Harm's questions as to why he was cluttering up the foyer, he grinned and said, "No room at the inn. Skates is sharing with Loren and I can't afford a room here, so I sat here reading every damn' newspaper and magazine I could until I dozed off. I've arranged to get a shower, shave and to change out of this suit, God, look at it, it's never going to be the same again, as soon as either the girls or Frank and Trish are ready to let me into their bathroom!"

"What then?"

"Then ol' pal o' mine, the lovely Skates and I are heading back to Andrews NAF, why?"

"Well good buddy, after we have had breakfast with the rest of the clan, Jen and I have got to head over to her old apartment and collect her clothes and stuff and move them into our place, and it would go much quicker if we could find someone, somewhere to help us out..."

"It'll cost you..."

"How much?" asked Harm guardedly

"Lunch?"

"Deal!" and the two shook hands on it.

"You do realise," Jen chipped in, amused at the by-play, "that you've just committed Skates to this plan... without asking her?"

Both men looked dismayed and almost simultaneously said, "Oh, crap!"

Jen nearly choked on a mouthful of coffee, as she tried not laugh at their expressions, "Look at you!" she scoffed once she had regained control of her breathing, "Two grown men scared of just one girl!"

"That's not just a girl," protested Keeter, "that's Skates!"

"And we're not scared of her," added Harm, "it's just that she can get pretty sarcastic if she gets upset!"

"Sarcastic, huh?" asked Keeter, "Well I suppose that's one way of putting it!"

"Yeah, right!" Jen snorted in disbelief, still gaining considerable entertainment from the two somewhat embarrassed faces in front of her.

Further raillery was prevented by the approach of the concierge, who asked, "Are either of you... gentlemen Mr Keeter?"

"Yes, ma'am, that would be me."

"I have a message for you from Miss Hawkes; she says you can go up to see her now."

"Why, thank you kindly, ma'am, that's right neighbourly of you," drawled Keeter, and nearly broke into open laughter as the offended concierge turned on her heel and left.

Keeter had been gone a bare five minutes when Skates together with Loren and Alexandra entered the lobby. Jen attracted their attention with a wave while Harm asked the concierge to provide fresh coffee, and could it be just a little stronger this time?

In response to Jen's enquiry as to how Skates had slept, the petite brunette smiled ruefully and said, "You'd think after all the time I spent on carriers, and now on an air station that I would get used to howls and things that go bump in the night, but this little beauty at close quarters, sounds a damn' sight louder than an F-14 two decks overhead!"

"How many times Loren?" Harm asked sympathetically

"She's getting a bit better; I fed her before we went to sleep last night, and that took the place of her normal midnight feed, so only the once at about three, and then for reveille at just before six. Otherwise she's been as good as gold".

The arrival of the fresh brew of coffee acted as a natural break and to Harm's inner relief allowed for a change of topic before the conversation became irretrievably immersed in baby matters. Jen took the opportunity to hint to Skates that her provisional plans for the day had been changed, and by whom, but apart from a daunting glare at Harm, and again to his relief which he expressed with a sheepish grin, Skates said nothing. Harm, however had a suspicion that Keeter was going to have Skates' opinion of him revealed in no uncertain terms in the not too distant future, probably on the ride back to Andrews.

Jen interrupted his musings on Keeter's future welfare by saying, "Harm, I've just been saying to Loren that I wasn't sure how I was going to cope when we have our first, about how I was going to go back to work and figure out child care. I was wondering if she had any hints she might like to share with us."

Harm was startled, what was Jen playing at? She must know that Loren was quick enough on the uptake to see through such an obvious ploy, especially as Jen's easy to read face was not made for subtle concealment of emotions or motives. Mentally shrugging he knew that his only choice at the moment was to play along with Jen's lead. "I'd be glad to hear anything Loren has to say on the subject, but we'd best let Skates contribute as well."

Skates, as well she might, look considerably baffled by the turn the conversation had taken.

Jen, seeing Skates' puzzled expression, smiled, "Skates, oh look, I know that's not your name, but Harm has used it so often in talking about you, that I can't seem to relate to you by any other name, you don't mind do you?"

Skates gave Jen her oddly attractive grin, "Jen, I've been called Skates for so long, that if anyone walked into this lobby and yelled out for Beth, it probably wouldn't even register with me. I figure I'll have 'Skates' in quotations on my headstone, one day!"

"OK, well, what Harm means is that I'm already expecting our first, we figure sometime around Christmas, so Loren and I have been talking about how best we're going to cope with new babies and work. I know lots of other girls do it, but we want to figure out how to do it so it best suits us."

Skates grin grew even wider, if that was possible, "Well congratulations to you both! Harm, it's just what you've always wanted isn't it?"

"It is," he agreed, allowing a small proud smile to light up his face as he reached out and without looking took hold of Jen's similarly outstretched hand. "Loren," he added, "we all know how difficult the fraternisation regs could make this for us, so we need to come up with some sort of plan that will allow us, you and me and Jen, to maintain contact, to provide a sort of mutual support group, and pool our resources so that Alexandra and our baby have the best care that the three of us between us can provide. I remember you saying that you didn't want to have to resort to clipping coupons for cut price diapers and formula, well we don't want to see that that you have to do it, and we don't want that for ourselves either. What do you say, will you meet us half-way?"

"I'm not that dumb, I know what you're up to, but I don't know, I don't want charity..."

"It wouldn't be charity," Jen interjected, "we'd all be paying, and if one parent gets deployed or gets a shipboard assignment then the other two will be on hand to provide the family care package; you two are both lawyers, you could even work out some form of contract laying down rights and responsibilities and conditions for meeting or failing to meet reasonable expectations."

"Well if you put it like that, I suppose it could work..."

"Of course it can," Harm endorsed Jen's argument.

"Hey, can I join in this partnership?" asked Skates.

The other three stopped talking and stared at her in shock, "What? What's wrong, why are you...? Oh! No, no, I'm not... It's just that it sounded like a brilliant idea." And Skates blushed so fiercely that it was apparent even through her darker skin tone.

Harm smiled nervously while both Jen and Loren half giggled in embarrassment.

"Yeah, well," Harm cleared his throat in an effort to bring the discussion back to order, "Jen and I have already been discussing a move out of our apartment; we want somewhere with a fenced-in yard where the kid can play safely, and with a couple of extra rooms, so that there's room for more if we want them later, or for Frank and Trish or friends to visit with us, and with a shed or a basement I can use for a workshop, and..."

"Hold hard there, flyboy," Jen objected, "just where are we going to get the money for all this?"

"Hey back off with the negative waves, Jen, think like Mr Micawber, something'll turn up!"

Skates turned to Loren and said, "If I hadn't have witnessed that wedding was only yesterday, I'd swear that these two have been married for years. Have they always been like this?"

"Beth, I don't know, I don't think anybody knows. When they turned up together in San Diego, I was never more surprised in my life."

"You hid it well, Loren, you took it all in your stride," Harm suggested.

"No... I don't think I did, I guess it seemed that way to you because you were so surprised at seeing Alexandra and I in your mom's house. But I don't think anybody in Falls Church even knew they were seeing each other, and God knows how they managed to keep it a secret in our office. Lawyers and their staff gossip worse than old women!

Jen laughed at Loren's amazement. "Loren, you didn't know that we were together because we only started seeing each other that night in January when you left for San Diego. And because of the fraternisation regs, we took damn' good care that nobody should see us together in public. We couldn't car pool even, though it was costing us twice as much in gas as it need have done. Can you imagine the fuss that would have been raised if we'd turned up in the same car one morning? We could only sneak out to the movies once in a while after dark. It was almost like being teenagers with strict, disapproving parents!"

"Not quite, Jen, the admiral knew, remember?" Harm interjected, anxious that even now there should be no hint that they had broken the navy's strict regulations.

Loren nodded wisely, "Yeah, that would have been the only way round the regulation. But I've seen just how you two act together this last week; how did you manage to keep your hands off each other all these last few months while you were at work?"

"You wouldn't believe how tough it was Loren, but there was always the stationery supply closet when we got desperate!" Jen joked.

"You didn't!" Skates gasp was a mixture of shock and question.

"No, we didn't." Harm answered in repressive tones, "Jen's just trying to mess with your head. Don't listen to her, and don't go thinking she's giving out good advice!"

"There are times," Jen twisted her face into an exaggerated pout, "when you take all the fun out of life, Harmon Rabb!"

Trish's cheerful "Good morning everyone, did you all sleep well?" broke into the laughter that had greeted Jen's complaint, as she and Frank settled in to chairs around the coffee table.

As Trish had been looking straight at Jen when she asked her question, Jen's ears burned pink, but she managed to answer with a smile, "Oh, yes, we were so tired when we got home, that we more or less fell straight to sleep, and then slept right through. Your sympathy should be saved for Skates; she's been gaining an insight into how powerful Alexandra's lungs are!"

Skates laughed but her protest, "I wasn't complaining, just taking notes in case one of those ever happens to me!" drew a shrewd look from Trish, while Loren and Jen both laughed at the way Skates had phrased her response.

The coffee supply had been exhausted and it was very shortly after Keeter's return, now clad in a denim shirt and casual pants that Frank herded the group into the dining room for breakfast, where plans for the day were discussed. To Keeter's relief, Skates said "Hey, I'm in no hurry to get back to Andrews, just so long as I can find somewhere near to go to Mass while you heathens go right ahead and break the Sabbath!"

Skates caveat having been acknowledged, it was quickly decided that Harm, Frank and Keeter would all provide transport for the removal of Jen's clothes and one or two other possessions from her old apartment, and hopefully with all four cars, including Jen's, that one trip should provide enough cargo space.

Frank surprised them all, except Trish, by saying that now he was in DC, he intended to take a week's holiday, which left Loren with very little option, although she protested his hospitality, other than to accept his invitation to continue as his guest at the Hilton for the week. Frank accompanied his statement with a wink at Harm, so rapid that it was almost missed. Wondering what game Frank was now playing, Harm waited for an opportunity to get his step-father on his own.

Loren asked if anyone would be free later to give her a ride to the long-term secure parking lot where she had left her car before departing for San Diego. She couldn't, she said, be totally dependent on Frank to drive her out to the stores every time she wanted a fresh pack of diapers for Alexandra. She would need to call ahead to arrange a pick-up time, but if anyone could help her out, she would appreciate it.

Harm said that he was the logical choice because it had not only been he who drove her car to the lot, but that he also still had her keys hanging on a hook in his apartment. Jen wholeheartedly endorsed his plan; she had her own plans for the afternoon which unknown to Harm involved an extensive reordering of his closet and drawer space to make room for her own clothes.

Breakfast over and done with, Loren and Trish retreated to Loren's room where she could look after Alexandra and where Trish put into operation the other half of Frank's hinted plan. Skates enquired at the Concierge's desk for the location of a church where she could hear Mass, and said she would take a cab rather than delay the day's work; Keeter relieved of the necessity of driving her to church and waiting for her was freed to follow Harm and Frank to Jen's old place in one of the slightly rougher districts in town, where Jen retrieved her car from its on-street parking.

After Jen had burst the bomb-shell of her new status, but without mentioning Harm's rank, to her erstwhile room-mates, and pacified them by making out a check for a month's rent in lieu of notice to quit, it took a comparatively short time to load Jen's clothes and her few other bits and pieces into the four cars, the only point of contention being Harm's objection to her TV set. Jen countered his protest with the argument that she wasn't going to waste the money she had spent on the TV by leaving it behind, and what did he expect her to do for entertainment whenever he was sent on TAD? Having made her point, she triumphantly carried her trophy downstairs and wedged it carefully into the back seat of her Escort.

Unloading the cars at the apartment was the work of even a lesser space of time, Jen directing that all her clothing should just be dumped on the bed and left to her to sort out and store, but for that she said, she needed time, peace and quiet, so would the boys just go out and play? Harm although filled with sudden misgivings allowed himself to be herded out of the apartment together with Frank and Keeter and as the fount of local knowledge directed them to a nearby coffee shop, where they sat and ordered coffees.

"Alright Frank, what was that wink for?"

Frank sipped from his cup, grimacing at its acrid taste, "This is God-awful coffee," he complained.

"I said it was a local coffee shop, Frank, I didn't say it was a good one!"

"Good point counsellor. Well, it struck us, Trish and I, that an apartment in a converted warehouse isn't what you want for a family. I mean, we like what you've done with it, considering its state when you first moved in there, and then we got to thinking about Loren. I mean, we don't know what her place is like but again an apartment isn't the best place for a kid. So Trish and I figured that we could stay on and give you a hand to find someplace suitable for kids, where you, Jen and Loren could maybe share."

"It's a nice idea Frank, but it can't work. Regulations prohibit fraternisation between officers of different ranks; explicitly they ban sharing accommodation, which is what you're suggesting."

"That's ridiculous!"

"It may be, but regulations are framed with the worst case scenario in mind. Let's suppose that Loren was sharing an apartment or a house with Jen and I, just the very fact that we were living under the same roof would be enough to start scuttlebutt that we were having an affair whenever Jen's back was turned. It wouldn't matter that it was untrue; just the appearance of impropriety would make the retention of respect and the consequent enforcing of obedience to our orders a problem, especially for Loren, both as a woman and the junior officer. So our sharing housing would be a clear example of our conduct being contrary to good order and discipline. It's also contrary to regulations to... for example, for me to rent an apartment to or from Loren, or to offer to help pay her rent for her; we can't enter into any sort of business relationship just in case it went belly up and there were private arguments that could overspill into duty time."

"Yeah, that's all true, Frank," Keeter endorsed Harm's arguments, "It pretty much sucks, but that's the way it has to be."

"Let me get this straight; you can't share a house or an apartment with the mother of your brother's baby?"

"If Sergei had stayed in the States and had married Loren, then I could share accommodation with him and his family; but he didn't, and Loren isn't Loren Rabb or Loren Zhukov, she's still Lieutenant Loren Singer. The only way I could share accommodation with her is if one of us resigns their commission. Loren can't because she still owes the navy time for paying her college and law school fees; and although I'm beginning to like Loren, I'm certainly not giving up my career for her!"

"Yeah... let me think about that," said Frank.


	16. Moving On

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 16  
>Moving On<strong>

Frank stayed deep in thought as they finished their coffee and then headed back to the apartment to drag Jen back to the Hilton where they were to have lunch before Keeter and Skates headed back to Andrews NAF. Jen had been waiting for them and ran out of the building door before they'd had time to even press the call button to let her know they had arrived. Keeter and Frank led off in their cars while Harm and Jen followed on in the 'vette.

Frank stayed abstracted through lunch, although he did get to hold Alexandra for ten minutes while Loren rapidly plied knife and fork, and although she trusted Frank she couldn't help but feel a little anxious and was visibly relieved when she was able to relieve him of her baby once she had decided she had eaten enough. While the majority of the party saw nothing untoward in Loren's reaction, Trish felt vaguely bothered by what she had seen, and realised that somehow and very tactfully, that Loren needed to be gently made aware of the pattern of behaviour into which she was beginning to slip.

No sooner had the post lunch coffee been finished than Keeter looked across at Skates, and with regret in his voice, said, "Beth, I hate to break up the party, but we do need to get going. I'd love to stay longer, but..." and he finished on a sigh.

Skates pulled a face that conveyed her unwillingness to leave but also her acknowledgement that returning to Andrews was a necessity, "Yes," she agreed sadly, "it's been great meeting you all, and wonderful to have been a part of your wedding Jen, thank you so very much for inviting us and it was truly good to see you again, Harm. Now we know where each other are, we need to keep in closer touch. Trish, Frank thank you for all that you've done for us, to make us feel so welcome... No, don't get up; we're big enough to carry our own bags."

"Yeah," Keeter supplemented Skates' words, "We both felt honoured that you asked us down here Harm. We would have been happy to just have been part of a full-blown naval ceremony, but you kept it small and intimate, and out of all your friends in the service, you asked us. You have no idea just how special that makes us feel on your very special day. Thank you, and thank you Jen."

Picking up their suit-bags and val-packs the two aviators flipped very casual salutes towards Harm and his family, and headed across the lobby. As they left they could be seen talking to each other and very faintly they could be heard squabbling amiably.

Trish watched them go and said to Harm, "I do like your friends. Keeter's such a nice boy, and Elizabeth too seems to be very special. I think you're very lucky, Harm."

"Yes, mom, I am. I'm lucky in the friends I have, but I'm especially lucky in having the family that I have." His arm invited Jen to move closer to him as he sat down and his smile was directed at Trish, Frank and Loren. Frank had not told Trish of the long overdue reconciliation between Harm and himself, but Trish had intuitively recognised that the dynamic had changed between the two men of her family, and without needing to ask the reasons for the change was glad of it. Loren felt her heart jump as she realised that Harm had not considered his words, or paused to remember that he ought to include her in his family, but that he had been spontaneous in expressing himself, and for the first time began to have an inkling of what it might just mean to be a member of this family, not just a tag-along, tolerated because she was Alexandra's mother. Doubtful of her own feelings, Loren said nothing but returned Harm's smile with a somewhat restrained one of her own, but as she looked across at Harm and Jen on the couch opposite, she caught Jen looking at her with a smile of sympathetic encouragement that she suddenly felt as if the younger woman had seen right through her mask and even deeper to the depths of her soul. As uncomfortable with that feeling as she would have been to have been caught naked in public, Loren stood up and started to gather her purse and to pick up Alexandra, only for Frank to say, "No, Loren, please don't go, I have something I want to say to the three of you, and I need to be certain that you have understood me, and that you are OK with what I propose."

Loren was about to protest, when Trish reached up and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Looking down at Trish, Loren saw the she too had a smile of encouragement on her face, so with mixed feelings she slowly sat down again, but picked up Alexandra from the portable crib and held her close to her breast.

Frank cleared his throat, "While we've been here in Washington, Trish and I have been looking around, at apartments and the rents that are charged. We've all, with the exception of Loren seen Harm's place, and he's done a good job on it, but I think we agree that it's not the place to try and raise a child. Apart from there being nowhere safe for a child to play, the place is just too damn small. Now, Loren I don't know what your place is like, but I'm willing to bet that it's not much bigger than Harm's?"

Loren shook her head in negation, and said, "But I have seen Harm's place - when I visited there with Sergei, and if anything my place is slightly smaller."

Frank gave a slight shake of his head. "I believe," he continued, "that your place is in George Town? Well that's a good neighbourhood, but I'm guessing that because it's such a good neighbourhood that the rents aren't exactly cheap. No, don't tell me exactly how much; I don't need to know just yet, but I do need you, all three of you, to think about whether you can afford to keep paying the rents you are and to raise a child. I guess that Harm and Jen will just about do it, but Loren, I reckon you are going to find it a mighty challenge. No, don't poker up; I'm not about to offer charity to any of you, so just listen for a minute or two. Now, when us boys were having coffee this morning, Harm and Keeter told me that it wouldn't be possible for the three of you to share a house because of some dumb, stupid navy regulation, so that rules out the first suggestion I was going to make, and that none of you could even rent from the others, so that rules out my second idea. But, if I have it aright, then there's nothing in navy regulations that says that you both can't rent from the same third party, right?"

Harm interrupted, "Where are you going with this Frank? We'd still have to be careful; there are not only the regulations themselves but also the implementing instructions which among other things clarify the spirit as well as the letter of the regulations."

"Well, what if you were neighbours? With separate rent agreements. You wouldn't be under the same roof, but you'd be near enough to help each other out at need. Loren, you'll remember how it was during the last couple of months before we said 'hi' to Alexandra? Even with really basic things like trying to get up off a couch, or reaching up to put something on a shelf? Well Jen's going to need that sort of help too, if Harm has to dash off and save the world somewhere. And Loren, you're going to need help too, if say, you get sick, or you have to go away and investigate a case, even if you only have to go back out to California or down to Florida or up to... oh, I don't know... but you'll know what I mean better than I can say."

"How will that help with costs, Frank?" Jen wanted to know.

"Well, Harm was pretty specific when he listed your needs: At least three bedrooms, a safe back yard and a basement or garage where he could work on his handy-man projects. Well, I'm guessing you won't find anything like that in DC, and you'd be pretty damn lucky to find anything to fit that description at a price you could afford anywhere inside the beltway. So you'd need to look outside. Now I'm guessing you don't want to be too far out from Falls Church, so that kinda limits you to either Virginia or Maryland; I reckon Pennsylvania and West Virginia are too far out, and you'd have to add in the extra costs of commuting to your living expenses."

"Yeah, that's all good thinking, Frank," Harm objected, "but you still haven't said how it's going to help us."

"I'm getting there; have a little faith, counsellor! What if I were to suggest that a house could be found that fits with your requirements and is available to rent, but," he held up a hand to prevent any further interruption, "it also had a guest house at the bottom of the yard or an apartment built out over the garage, or...".

Harm and Loren looked at each other, "Well... it might just work," suggested Harm.

"If the guest house or whatever had its own separate entrance..." Loren mused.

"Yes," added Jen, "but the rent would be far more than we could afford, even with the three of us paying in..."

"Not if the landlord," Frank said, "Was inclined to cut a favourable deal for members of the military."

"No," said Harm guessing at what was coming next. "We can't let you buy a house for us Frank. It's a damn generous thing to suggest, but we couldn't let you!"

"I agree!" Jen seconded Harm's objection.

"It's way too generous!" Loren added her voice to the chorus of rejection.

"Well, it may not too be generous, when you've heard me out. Here," he tore two leaves out of his notebook and handed one to Loren and the other to Harm and Jen, "write down what you're currently paying for rent, don't include utilities."

Retrieving the two pages he totalled the figures and gave a low whistle of surprise. "For what you're paying between you now, you could probably rent our place in La Jolla!"

"Well DC is an expensive place to live, Frank," Loren confirmed.

"OK, then here's the deal: You find a place that's suitable. I will buy it - as an investment, I don't expect to lose out on this deal - in the meantime the three of you can rent it for two-thirds of the combined cost of your current rent, but you will also be responsible for paying the utilities and for maintaining the property."

Harm, Jen and Loren looked at each other. What Frank was offering was a sweet deal, and just about got around the regulations, and it surely wasn't charity; they would be paying less rent for sure, but they'd have to watch the utility bills. It would certainly make life easier for all of them if they were neighbours, apart from anything else there might be a saving on gas if they could car pool, especially if they were forced to move further away from Falls Church.

Frank watched the three of them for a minute or two; they needed to be able to talk this through for, and by themselves. "Come on Trish," he invited her, "We've given these young folk a lot to think about on a Sunday afternoon, let's take twenty minutes and go and smell the orchids."

The three prospective neighbours sat and watched them stroll out through the hotel doors and then Loren turned to the others and said, "Look, I know Frank's trying to be helpful, but why do I feel that I'm being railroaded here?"

Harm grinned and said, "You feel like you're being railroaded, because you are. So are Jen and I, but no matter how we feel about that, Frank's right; Jen and I can't argue with his analysis because we had already reached the same conclusion about having to move out of the apartment, before we went out to San Diego, and what he said about an apartment not being good for a kid is as true for you as it is for us. A guest house or an over-the-garage apartment with access to a safe yard would not only allow us to by-pass the regulations, but would also allow us privacy when we want it. And in the long-term it provides a secure home and a family care package, for us as much as for you, in case of deployment, either overseas or shipboard. OK if two of us get deployed at the same time it's going to be hard for the one left behind, but I really don't think the admiral would do that to us. Loren, I don't want to add to any pressure that you feel you're under, but you know it makes sense."

"Well, yes, I guess it does. But I don't want to be a charity case... I told you that before..."

Jen reached out and took hold of Loren's wrist, "Loren, you won't be a charity case, we need you in on this. There's no way that Harm and me can manage the kind of place we really want without somebody helping us out, and it just makes sense for that somebody to be you, and besides, I reckon that I am going to need help and advice once I start turning into the Goodyear Blimp!"

"And it's going to be your input that's probably going to be the decider in choosing where we live," added Harm. "Jen and I have a week left before we're due back at work; you have a month. But Jen and I are going to have to go up Belleville before we start back at Falls Church, we must see Grams and introduce Jen to her."

"You have a...?" Loren stopped, not quite sure of the exact degree of relationship Harm's use of 'Grams' inferred.

"Yeah, my dad's mom, Grams Sarah," he smiled, "that's the 'girl' Jen got all jealous about when she thought that I'd named my 'plane after an old girlfriend."

"You have a plane?" Loren asked, amazed, and then she realised, she didn't know much, if anything beyond the superficial, about anyone with whom she had worked at JAG. Falling back on her first question, she said, "Oh... look that doesn't matter, but you didn't invite your own Grandmother to your wedding?"

Jen's eyes danced, was this indignant Loren really the same woman who had earned so many derogatory nicknames at JAG in such a short space of time?

"Loren, I know that sounds shocking, but I did invite her, of course I did, but Grams's near on ninety years old and said that she couldn't make the journey. I offered to have her picked up, and even to drive up there myself to get her, but she says she's getting too old for junketing all over the country. But she did make me promise that I'd take Jen up to meet her, so we're driving up there tomorrow and we'll probably have to stay overnight. So you are going to have to do a lot of the legwork with Frank until we get back. And if I know Frank, he won't have mentioned this to us if he hadn't already looked at some possibilities!"

"Do you really think this can work?"

"Well, if we want to succeed, then we're going to have to work _at_ it, we still don't really know each other all that well, and it's not just going to happen. We'll probably tread on each other's toes from time to time, but we can't let that stop us from trying, and we can't let it stop us from making a go of it. Loren, I've faced you across the aisle in the courtroom enough times to know you're not a quitter. You've fought me, so many times, tooth and nail to try and win your cases; all any of us needs to do to make this thing work for us is to show that same determination. So, what do you, say... partner?"

Loren searched his and Jen's faces before drawing a deep breath and saying, "OK then, if you are sure about this arrangement not ending up with us facing a court-martial, and if you are sure we can do it, yes... partners. On one condition."

"What's that?"

"If I'm working with Frank on initial recon, then I get to veto anything I think is not right for us, but I will not take on the responsibility of deciding what is right. I'll recommend, but I won't decide on my own. You guys will be living there too, and if I've left a place on my list of possible, then it means that I would be happy living there, but it must be your decision as to where you live."

"Loren, you have a deal!"

"Oh, there's just one more thing: I didn't always just _try_ to win my cases. I _did_ win some - maybe not many, but some!" Loren added, looking meaningfully at Jen, and laughing out loud.

Harm and Jen both laughed, not at Loren, but with her.

"Yep, you most certainly did!" Agreed Harm.

Frank and Trish had taken a leisurely stroll a block north on 14th Street to Franklin Park between K and I Streets where Trish guided Frank to a bench and said, "Sit down, Frank, I need to talk to you. I'm getting worried about Loren."

Frank raised an eyebrow in silent interrogation while Trish settled herself next to him and wrapping both her hands around his upper arm, she rested her head on his shoulder and looking straight ahead, she said, "Have you noticed that Loren never takes her eyes off Alexandra unless she absolutely has to? And she looks anxious, no it's more than that, she looks scared if anyone else holds her, even for a minute or two?"

"That's only natural, isn't it Trish? Alexandra's not two weeks old yet, of course Loren's going to be anxious about her. Apart from anything else, she is her first child."

"Yes... agreed... but it seems to me to be more than that. I know that Loren hasn't really joined our family and that she maybe feels that all she has is Alexandra, but she might be getting too bonded... she's got to go back to work in just a month, and if she can't let Alexandra even out of her sight for five minutes, where's that going to leave her?"

"Well, OK, if you say so... but how are we going to be able to help?"

"We need to be really sure that I'm right before we say _anything_ to her, and then when we do, we'll need to be very, very careful, to_ feel_ our way... but I may be getting the wrong idea. So here's a suggestion: if Harm and the girls agree to your idea, when they go out looking for somewhere to live, you'll have to go with them to agree to the money side of things. I'll go too, so when you're looking at places, I can stay in the car with Alexandra, you know how much hassle it is getting the baby into and out of the car seat every five minutes, and once Loren gets used to the idea that Alexandra's safe with me, then maybe she can start to relax just a little more."

"You really feel that strongly about all this?" Frank questioned her.

"Yes, I do. I know a mom is supposed to bond with her baby," Trish continued, "it's that feeling that makes up for pregnancy and labour, but I worry that Loren is bonding too closely, and that can be unhealthy for them both."

"Alright then, we'll play it your way; we'll just run it up the flagpole and see if anyone salutes!"


	17. All in the Family

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 17  
>All in the Family<strong>

Harm saw Trish and Frank re-entering the hotel and crossing the lobby towards them. Looking at the two women for final confirmation, he stood, and addressing Frank, he held his hand out to him and said, "Frank, it's a deal. But here's the thing, tomorrow morning Jennifer and I are heading up to Belleville, Grams wants to meet Jennifer, and I want, no, we both want Jennifer to meet Grams, but she says she's too old to travel anymore, so if the mountain won't come to us, we'll have to go to the mountain."

"Harmon Rabb," Trish teased him, "don't let Grams ever hear you call her a mountain!"

Harm winced at the thought of his grandmother's reaction to being called a mountain, "I surely won't, ma'am" he assured Trish fervently. "But the thing is," he continued, "that means that we're going to be fast running out of time. So, what we've decided, if you're OK with it Frank, is that Loren will come with you to do the initial recon, and she'll come up with a short-list of places we'll check out. We're going to have to move fast on this, Jen and I only have a week to get the decision made, and I know you're quite happy to stay here as long as it takes, but Loren's uncomfortable at staying here while you're footing the bill, so we want to get moving ASP on this."

Jen added, "I got yesterday's papers from the desk clerk, and there's a goodly number of places up for sale, not too far out, so I figure we could spend the next couple of hours, not choosing possibilities, but crossing off the impossible."

"OK," said Frank, "let's have a look - we'll probably work more quickly if we split the load, once we've got what's what, then we can work together. H'mm what we could really do with is a road map so that we can see exactly where each place is."

"Well I've got a pretty good working knowledge of the area offered Harm; I could probably work out the most efficient routes to take..."

"Yes, but you're not going to be with us, are you?" Loren pointed out.

"Frank, didn't we see a gas station just near that park we went to, up on I Street? And don't gas stations sell road maps?"

"Yes, it was only half a block away; you start checking through the classifieds and I'll go get a road map," agreed Frank.

"No, you stay right where you are, Frank," Jen insisted, "Loren hasn't had any fresh air today, and I've hardly had any. What do you say Loren, shall we take Alexandra out for an airing?"

Loren eyed her askance, "Why do I still feel like I'm being railroaded?" she asked, but with a slight smile on her face.

"Oh, that's an easy one," Jen said, "it's because I'm bullying you!"

"It doesn't look like I've much choice then," Loren half-grumbled. "But you'll have to wait a minute or two; I need to get her sling out of my room. Come on baby," she added, reaching for the carry-crib.

"Why don't you leave her with us for the minute or so it'll take you, Loren," Trish offered, "You'll soon find out she's heavy enough when you do have to carry her!"

Loren looked anxious.

"Go on, dear, I'll make sure she doesn't bite any of us while you're gone!"

Loren gave a wan smile and hurried across to the elevator lobby, throwing a couple of glances back over her shoulder as she did so. Harm had watched the by-play and turning to his mother asked, "What was that all about?"

"Oh, nothing, dear, just trying to save Loren some extra strain." And that was true; Trish justified her little white lie, but just not quite the way she wanted Harm to think it.

"Yeah, right," Harm growled not convinced by either his mother's words or the bland expression which had accompanied them.

In less time than it took for Harm Frank and Trish to pull out the property sections of the various papers and divide them up into separate piles, Loren reappeared with the baby-sling. There was a certain amount of awkwardness as Loren tried for the first time to settle Alexandra in the sling, and she had to enlist Jen's help to make sure that not only was Alexandra comfortable but also to ensure that the sling was secured properly, but with everything settled to her mom's satisfaction, Alexandra Rabb was ready to meet the world.

With a cheerful, "We won't be long so, you'd best get started, see you soon," from Jen and a smile from Loren who was nuzzling Alexandra's head the two young women crossed the lobby and banished through the hotel doors.

Harm looked at Trish who was smiling and nodding to Frank, who smiled back. "OK, now would you mind telling me just what that was all about?" He demanded.

His mother answered, "Loren seems to be suffering from a high level of separation anxiety, and with her needing to report back to duty soon, she needs to be able to beat it, or she won't be able to function if Alexandra is out of her sight. I don't think it's anything too serious, but we need to encourage her to be able to leave Alexandra for a few minutes, the way we just did, and then maybe we can gradually coax her into leaving her for longer periods."

Harm digested what his mother had just said, and then with a troubled look on his face asked, "Is this something that happens with all new moms?"

"Trish smiled, "Yes, and no, all new moms want to stay with and protect their babies, but it's very rare that it becomes a problem." She paused to gather her thoughts before she carried on, "I don't think you'll have to worry about it with Jen, she's got you, and she knows you love her. Poor Loren though, seems to have a history of rejection, and now Sergei has rejected her and the baby, both, then she perhaps feels that Alexandra is her only anchor. I think I mentioned this to you before, you and Jen are going to have to be her new family until she gets her self confidence back, but she's still very afraid of further rejection so it's going to be difficult for her to learn to trust anyone again, but, and this is very important, you mustn't push too hard. Watch her, learn to read her facial expressions, and learn to read her body language, so you can know when you need to back off."

Harm nodded thoughtfully, "Yeah...I guess that maybe we were getting more than we bargained for when we said, no, when_ I_ said I'd look after her and Alexandra."

"Don't go taking this all on yourself, Harm," Frank interjected, "Your mom, and I guess me too, we kind of put you on the spot when we sprung Loren on you, but we didn't see this separation thing being an issue. Now there's a thought, I nearly called it a dependency issue; you want to know something? Uh-huh, well I'm no therapist, but would it be possible to wean Loren off her anxiety the same way a shrink would wean an addict?"

Trish looked doubtful, "Well... I don't think I'd go so far as to call it an addiction... but I suppose the basic idea could work. If you try to do that you'd have to let Jen know, of course, and take it very, very easy."

Harm, nodded, "Yeah... the thing is, we, Jen and I can't drop out now, who knows what damage that would do to her. But here's something for you two to stuff into your pipe: you can't back out either. I promised Loren that you'd always be there for her as well!"

"Oh, Harm, of course we will! To deliberately misquote, 'Nuestra casa es su casa' - our house is her house!" Trish declared in surprise

Frank smiled and remarked, "Well then if that's settled - for the moment anyway - we'd best make a start on this before our girls get back!"

Harm smiled, he liked that, Frank had said 'our girls' as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and looking across at his step-father he thought that maybe for the older man, it was.

So when a few minutes later Loren and Jen returned, giggling over something that had appealed to their sense of humour, and with Jen brandishing a road map.

"What's so funny?" asked Harm, his own face responding to the amusement in Jen's.

"Oh, nothing really, it's quite funny though. We were in the gas station, and the clerk couldn't get his head around that we'd walked there, I think he suspected us of trying to pump gas and drive off without paying, he even came out to the door to watch us leave!"

"There was one more thing; when Jen and I were walking up to I Street, we were thinking about Alexandra going to school - not just yet though - and how kids shorten their names - like Harm, Jen, Trish, you know? And we got to thinking about what Alexandra might get called. There was Al, Allie, Alex, Alexi, Lexie, or Sandy, even, but none of them seemed right, and then because Sergei is Russian, and there's that actress with the tautological name, Sasha Alexander? Well Sasha is the uni-sex Russian nickname for anyone called Alexandra or Alexander, so we, Jen and I, decided that if she is going to have a shortened version of her name, it ought to be 'Sasha', it's short enough not to be shortened any more. And it's a beautiful and distinctive name!"

"Yeah, good choice," Harm endorsed the decision. He would have to confirm his feeling with Trish at some time soon, but if Loren could even think of adding a Russian element to Alexandra's upbringing, then maybe she was beginning to come to terms with Sergei abandoning her and Sasha - he mentally tried the name again 'Sasha', yeah he liked that. Anyway, he hoped it was a healthy sign.

Trish added, "Yes, it is an attractive name, it is distinctive, but not so unusual as to make it stand out too much."

"Well I like it," said Frank.

"Yes," Jen said teasing him, "but you like anything to do with Alexandra."

"True, true," Frank said mournfully, but with that gleam in his eye. "Trish I've been true to you all these years, but now a younger woman has crept in and stolen my heart, can you ever forgive me?"

"Oh, Frank, will you hush up your nonsense, now!" protested a slightly pink-faced Trish, and get on with what you're supposed to be doing!"

"OK, then," said Harm, we need to rule out anything east of the Potomac, anything south of Woodbridge and anything west of a line running from Leesburg through Manassas to Aden. That should still give us a hell of a lot of real estate to look at, and don't forget, although it's not likely, we might just find something inside the Beltway!"

After an hour of frustration, Harm was about to throw the whole idea out of the window. Properties there were in plenty, but none of them suitable for their purpose. He threw down the section of the paper he had been reading through. "Nothing!" he snorted in disgust.

As if his exclamation had been a signal, Alexandra whimpered in her sleep and started to make vague movements with her arms and legs, "Uh-oh, somebody's going to want feeding, in a minute or two," Loren smiled, "so why don't we all take a break? It's nearly four o'clock anyway, and I could do with a tea or coffee, or anything! Give me ten minutes and I'll come right back down".

Loren's idea met with general approval and Frank as the named guest went to the hotel desk to ask for tea for five and a selection of sandwiches to be brought to their table. He figured by the time the refreshments arrived, that Loren would have rejoined them.

By the time he rejoined the table he found that Trish and Harm had necessarily brought Jen into the conspiracy to lessen Loren's separation anxiety. Jen looked thoughtful, and unconsciously repeated Trish's words, "Yeah, I can see the problem, but we don't want to create another one by pushing too hard! We're going to have to really tread carefully here."

Both Trish and Harm smiled; Trish because she felt justified in having her own words, unprompted, come back to her, and Harm because he was proud of Jen's quick grasp of the situation, and just because every time he looked at Jen he felt like smiling.

Loren, returning with Alexandra in her carry-crib saw the sappy smiles on their faces and muttered, "For God's sake get a room you two! Or you can borrow mine. Looking at each other like ought to be illegal in public!" She had only been half-joking when she said it, but the looks of embarrassment on the faces of both Harm and Jen were so comical that she burst into giggles.

Jen tried to salvage some of her dignity by scolding Loren, "Hush be quiet, Loren, or you'll wake Alexandra!"

"Not a chance," Loren retorted smugly, "she's good for at least the next thirty minutes!"

Jen's cynically raised eyebrow was mute witness to her opinion of Loren's confidence.

Trish busied herself pouring tea and passing plates and napkins round as the ordered refreshments arrived, "You know", she remarked, "you two are really beginning to act and sound like sisters!"

There was a dead silence. Harm and Frank looked at Loren and Jen, and then together with the two younger women turned their eyes on Trish. Trish looked around in consternation, "What? What I did do?"

Loren who had returned to her seat one over from Trish, reached out a hand and Trish automatically responded. Loren said gently, "No, we don't. I grew up with six sisters, and none of them ever treated me with half so much affection as I get from Jennifer."

Trish sat open mouthed for a few moments and then her face alive with curiosity looked as if she was about to speak. Before she could do so, Frank caught her eye and gave a miniscule shake of his head, and Trish subsided; her questions going unspoken. Frank had just as many questions, but due to the unexpected and fast-growing bond he was developing with Loren Singer, he knew that now was not the time to ask them. This he knew was one of those time when trying to draw Loren deeper into the family would only result in her pulling away.

Harm had picked up a weird sort of resonance, he was getting from Loren much the same sort of feeling that he had got from Mac whenever he had tried to close the distance between them. Although Loren was sitting calmly with a cup of tea and a plate of sandwiches to hand, she still reminded him of a deer on its toes and ready to spring away at the first alarm.

Jen, the only member of the group who had any idea as to what Loren was referring, felt herself blush at what she thought was undeserved praise, and at the same time felt a renewed rush of affection for the complex, complicated and damaged young woman sitting across the table from her.

Frank eased the sudden tension as he made a great fuss in clearing away some of the discarded papers, and asking the others for their recommendations for viewing, if any.

Harm shook his head in disgust. Nothing he had seen had even come close to the mental image he had formed. Jennifer and Loren less circumscribed each had two they had marked as possible and Frank had one choice ringed in one section of the paper. Trish, like Harm had seen nothing that had inspired her to make a note or mark it in the newspaper.

"OK, Frank said, let's have that map. Harm, come and help me out here, son. I'll call out the addresses and you mark 'em on the map? OK, first one is in Burke, then Fairfax, then Springfield, and Alexandria - there's an omen for you Loren! And finally we have Centreville."

"No, you can cross that one out Frank, if there's a wind with any north or south in it, then Centreville is right under the flight path for Dulles."

"I thought you liked 'planes," Jen commented.

"I do, but this one," Harm grinned and indicated Alexandra with his thumb, "might just have a different opinion. And if I recall correctly, she has a mighty fine pair of lungs with which to voice her disapproval!"

His comment was met with both smiles and nods of agreement. Although whimsical, his words had a very real truth. Sleep deprivation due to a baby's need for feeding in the early hours was one thing; sleep deprivation due to an over-tired, constantly crying baby kept awake by an outside noise source was an entirely different matter.

A further cause for Harm's veto, but one to which he was not willing to give voice, was his aviator's knowledge that most aircraft mishaps occur on take-off or landing and he wouldn't have his family exposed to any unnecessary risk. It was only after he had formulated the thought that he realised he, just as Frank had done, had automatically included Loren and Alexandra as members of his family, otherwise he would have thought of himself and Jen and then only remembered Loren and her baby afterwards.

Plotting the locations of the remaining possibilities on map gave a semi-circle starting either at Alexandria and working west to Fairfax through Springfield and Burke or starting at the furthest and working back to the east.

When asked his opinion, Harm recommended starting in Alexandria, ignoring for the moment Jen's comment that the Roberts lived there and then working along the curve to Fairfax.

He hadn't been particularly impressed by any of the properties so far, but acknowledged that the one in Fairfax didn't look too bad, but he thought that it might be too expensive.

**xxxxx-xxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The decision made, Harm also made his excuses. He knew Frank and Trish would want a breathing space before dinner, he suspected Loren would too, and he and Jen needed to get home. He grimaced as he thought of Jen's belongings left where they had been dropped in the rush to unpack the cars and then get back to the hotel. Those same belongings would have to be squared away before he could relax, and he and Jen needed to rest. Today seemed to have been longer and more hectic even than yesterday!

Fortunately for his peace of mind, it was evident that Jen had been working like a horse this morning, apart from a box of her electrical goods, iron, PC, hairdryer and a couple of items he couldn't even begin to identify, all of her clothing and the majority of her other stuff had been stowed away. Some of it might have to be moved to better temporary homes, but once the empty boxes had been gotten rid of then there was very little additional sign to indicate that a second person had taken up residence. Or so he thought until he opened the drawer in his dresser that had contained his T-shirts.

The drawer now contained an assortment of lacy... things. Some of which he recognised, some of which he didn't, and some of which he wasn't going to ask about. Ever.

"Jen, where have my T-shirts disappeared to?"

"The closet shelf," his bride replied from the depths of the bathroom where, from the clattering and clinking sounds it seemed as if she was re-arranging the contents of the bathroom cabinet. She appeared in the doorway for a moment; her toothbrush jammed into the corner of her mouth and brandishing what for all the world, seemed to be a pink razor. Her words left him in no doubt that he had correctly identified it, "Just one thing, sailor," she warned him, "do not use this on your face, if you blunt the blade and I cut myself, my next stop after the ER will be a divorce attorney."

At least that was he thought she said; it was kind of hard to understand what exactly she was mumbling around her toothbrush.

Harm left her to her re-organising and walked through to the kitchen where he set a pan of water on to boil for pasta while he rapidly chopped salad stuffs and tossed them into bowl and turned his attention to preparing a shrimp-based sauce. The beauty of this kind of meal he mused was that it took very little time to cook, and so it proved. Within half an hour of returning home the two were perched on stools at the breakfast bar with a meal and glass of chilled white each.

While they were eating, Harm recalled Jen's comment about Alexandria, "Why the negative waves about Bud and Harriett Roberts living in Alexandria?" he asked.

Jen looked slightly uncomfortable. "Don't get me wrong, Harm, Bud is a wonderful guy, and I love Harriett to pieces, I think everyone does, but when they're together they can be a bit..."

"Overwhelming?" he supplied.

"Yeah, thanks," Jen's forehead creased in a frown of concentration as she tried to put into words exactly how she felt. "It's going to be difficult enough at work when Harriett starts gushing when she finds out we're married, which is one reason I want to get us out in the open ASAP, so it can be a nine-day wonder. But Harriett is going to gush, and if I can grit my teeth I can probably get through the nine days. But if we ended up as neighbours, even in the same town, we'd have her camped out on our doorstep until she winkled out the last dregs of intel as to our how, why, when and where. There's no way I am even the slightest bit ashamed or embarrassed about what we've done," and she laid her hand on her stomach, "or what we're doing, but we're going to be under a microscope at work, and I do want some privacy in our lives!"

Harm was forced to admit to the justice of Jen's feelings. He had a real value both for Bud, who after his injury was working so hard to stay in the navy, and for Harriett, who despite Jen's justified criticisms was one of the kindest people he had ever met. He smiled his acceptance of Jen's opinion and turned his attention back to his dinner.

With two pairs of hands working together, the clearing away of the wreckage of the meal and the washing and drying of pots and dishes took very few minutes. As he draped the tea towel over its rail to dry, Harm asked, "What would you want to do now? Set up your PC?"

"Nope, bed."

"A game of Scrabble?"

"Nope, bed."

"Do you want to plug in your TV and see if there's anything that you might want to rot your brain cells with?" he teased her.

"Nope, bed." Jen repeated, advancing on him with a determined look in her eye.

"Or if you don't want to stay in, we could go and shoot some pool at Ryan's Place?" he suggested backing away from her.

"Nope, bed." she insisted, penning him into a corner.

"Or, it's still light, we could maybe go for a run?" he tried to slip past her, but her arm snaked out and snagged him around the waist.

"Nope, bed." she insisted.

"Oh well," he replied as she cupped his face in both of her hands and moulded the length of her body against his, "if you can't think of anything better to do, we could always go to bed?" he offered on a helpful note.

"Yep, bed." She mumbled into his mouth as she reached up and kissed him thoroughly.


	18. Grams' House

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 18  
>Grams' House<strong>

Monday morning's dawn came with a change in the weather, the sun was hidden behind grey rain-filled clouds while the northerly wind had a damp chill to it. Thankful that they were still on leave and not having to wear their summer white uniforms, Harm and Jen pulled on sweaters, Jen placing their jackets with their go-bags on the parcel shelf of the 'vette while Harm made sure the soft-top was secured in position.

Both safely buckled into their seat belts, Harm paused before he turned the key in the ignition, "Jen, we've got three choices of routes up to Grams' and two of them take us right past Hagerstown…? He left the question hanging.

Jen didn't respond immediately, but at length she said slowly, "No… if we stop there I'll only get mad at him, and I'll probably still be mad when we get to Grams' - is it all right if I call her that?"

Harm smiled, "You'd better, otherwise she may not answer you, even when we tell her you've got a little Rabb hitching a ride." Harm said, straight-faced, as he fired the engine and selected first gear.

"Really? Really not talk with me? Oh! Don't you do that again! Don't you dare start with the same dumb game you played with Trish - no I haven't forgotten how you played me with that wicked-witch-mother-in law crap, and no I haven't decided yet how to get you back! I did think of stopping sex for a month or so, but then I decided I wasn't going to deprive myself as well as you. But don't get too cocky, sailor, I'm still fixing to get pay-back!" Jen started to snort, and then giggled.

"What's got you started?" asked Harm, enjoying the sight of Jen laughing.

"Oh it's just a piece of nonsense. I was just calling you for making me think that your mom was a wicked witch, and all the time she had one hidden in the library, but then the witch turned out not to be so wicked after all!"

Harm grinned, "Yeah, when you look at it like that, it is pretty funny! But I wonder if Loren will say so when I tell her what you just said?"

"No, you can't!" objected Jen, "it wouldn't be funny to her!"

"Oh… I don't know… she might find it funny… in say, ten years from now!"

Jen was forced to laugh again, "Harmon Rabb, you are a bad man! But," Jen became serious again, "I know I said I didn't want to stop in Hagerstown on our way north, but I suppose we do need to tell him. If we're not too late on our way back, could we stop then and tell him?"

"Oh, I get it. You don't want to get mad where Grams can see you, but you don't mind me seeing you when you're all antsy?"

"Yeah, well I don't have to put on company manners when I'm round you, and besides, you could persuade me out of a bad mood in a way that Grams never could, and it's only about an hour from Hagerstown back to here, so I wouldn't be mad that long."

"OK, sure we can do that, but it may not be until tomorrow, remember we may be stopping overnight, Grams will be pressing us to sleep over, but that depends on whether or not we think she's fit enough to have us stay."

Jen nodded soberly, "Harm, I'd love to spend as much time as I can with Grams; like you said, apart from anything else, she needs to meet this little one, so she knows the chain of mom-only Rabb families has been broken!" Jen stayed silent for a moment, "And I think it's important that she and I can be friends. She is the only full blood-relative Rabb that Alexandra's got, and I plan to take Loren to visit with her before I get too big. Yes, I know that you'd be happy to take Loren and Sasha to meet her, but I think Loren needs to meet at least one member of you family without being under your wing, so that she can maybe get the feeling that she's being accepted because she is Loren Singer, not because she's being sponsored by Harmon Rabb." Jen gave up in silence, knowing that she hadn't been fully able to convey the complexity of her thoughts to the man she loved.

Harm smiled across at the beautiful, generous and kind girl who had agreed to marry him and said, "Seventy eight."

Jen said "What?" twisting to in her seat to stare at him with puzzled eyes.

"Seventy-eight. According to your count, I have now found seventy-eight reasons to love you!"

"Oh..." Jen said, flushing pink with pleasure. How did this man of hers learn to be so loving all of a sudden? She never once thought that it might be her influence.

"Yep," he affirmed, "I was listening to what you said, and I was wondering how come you got to be so wise when I wasn't looking, and then I realised that your loving, kind and gentle wisdom is the seventy-eighth reason I've found to love you!"

"Harmon Rabb, have I told you lately that I love you?"

"No… not for a long time… not since breakfast, and that was at least an hour ago!"

"Oh… I didn't think it was that long ago. Well in that case, Mr Rabb, I feel it is only fair to warn you that I love you… with all my heart" she added almost shyly.

Harm's voice lost all trace of the bantering note that he had adopted up until that moment, "Jennifer Rabb, I don't know how to answer that without sounding trite, all I can say is that I love you, too."

"That's all you ever need to say, Harm. I don't need flowery speeches, and it's good that we can kid around, but I know that as long as every once in a while that you tell me, just like that, no frills, no wise cracks, if you just tell me that you love me, that's more than enough."

They sat in silence for a time neither wishing to speak and break the spell that they had unwittingly woven around themselves.

They had now joined the I-270 and clear of the restraints of restricted speed zones, intersections and traffic signals, Harm was able to press down on the accelerator and the powerful 5.7 litre engine purred into louder life carrying them north through Maryland towards the Pennsylvania state line.

Regaining her composure after a while, and surprised at the strength of the emotions that had surfaced so unexpectedly, Jen broke the silence, saying hesitantly, "Harm… what do you think your Grams's going to say about, this, the baby, the quick wedding, and… well, everything?"

Harm gave her a brief but searching look before he turned his eyes back on the road ahead. He had a feeling that his answer was going to be very important, so he spoke slowly as he processed his thoughts, no… his gut response, into words, "Jen, Grams is the most wonderful woman in the world next to you and mom, and my first impulse is to tell you not to worry, and that she'll cry tears of joy and welcome you with open arms, and I'm pretty sure that is exactly what she'll do."

"Pretty sure, Harm?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Jen, she might have a question or two about why we decided to get married so quickly, and she might have a dig at me, but she's got a heart that's so big… And, you were so sure just a little while ago that she'd welcome Loren and little Alexandra, so why these doubts about her now?"

"I… I'm not sure… just being foolish, I guess. I just don't want her to think that you felt you had to marry me just because I got myself pregnant!"

"Hey, first off, I seem to recall that I had something to do with that! And second, ever since our first night together, I was always going to ask you to marry me, it's just that I thought it would have been easier on you if we waited until your enlistment was up, but Jen, I wouldn't change a thing now, even if I could. Oh, and news flash: you're allowed to have doubts, you know? Like Loren, you've gone from being on your own to being thrown in at the deep end, with a whole crowd of people you don't know yet. And that's my fault, I should have told, you when I asked you to marry me, that you'd be joining my crazy family too."

"Now I know I'm in trouble, when _you_ start calling people crazy!" Jen laughed just a bit shakily.

Harm just smiled and waited for Jen to say anything more, but when she didn't, he was content to sit in silence as the miles passed beneath their wheels.

As the flat, open landscape of Maryland gave way to the gently rolling and slightly more heavily wooded countryside of Pennsylvania, he looked across at Jen who was half-dozing, but sufficiently aware of his scrutiny to open her eyes and smile at him. He reached out with his right hand and taking her left gave it a gentle squeeze, her smile broadened as she closed her eyes and fell back into her doze. Reluctantly he let go his hold on her hand and resumed a two-handed grasp of the steering wheel.

Jen alternated between dozing and jerking herself awake for the next hour or so until they reached Belleville and Harm brought the car's speed down to within the posted limits, and then as he reduced speed even more to pass a horse and buggy he heard Jen say, "Oh…"

"Problem?" He asked.

"Well, no, not for me… but it might not be a good idea to bring Loren up here, after all…"

Harm raised an enquiring eyebrow. "I can't tell you about it right now, Harm, it's sort of confidential, a need to know, and right now…"

"I don't need to know?" he asked.

She smiled across at him, grateful for his understanding, "Yeah, that's about it," she agreed.

They were almost in the centre of Belleville before Harm signalled a left turn, and said, "We're nearly there, Jen. See those hills ahead? They're part of the Greenwood Furnace State Park; Grams' northern property line is the Park's southern boundary."

Fifteen minutes later, having driven up a short, unsurfaced lane which ran through a mixed stand of beech, oak and linden trees from Greenwood Road, Harm braked to a gentle halt in front of a large, sprawling timber-framed farmhouse with a roofed porch, which stood, together with two large barns in a large clearing surrounded by more broad-leafed trees. What had once been a fenced paddock was now an open, grassed area in front of the house and on which stood a heavy timber table and two benches.

As Jen got out of the car and stretched her back muscles, she saw a slim, elderly woman rise to her feet from the swing seat on the porch, and leaning on an ebony, silver-handled cane come forward to the top of the steps. "What kept you?" she demanded, "I remember you pilots used to move quicker nor that when I was a girl!"

Harm bounded up the steps, "Grams", he said, gently taking her into his arms and hugging her, "that's a hell of a welcome to give your long-lost grandson!"

"Well, he wouldn't have been so long lost if he'd bother to drive his butt up from the city once in a while," she scolded him, pulling herself away from him and turning towards Jen, "And you must be Jennifer; welcome, welcome, Trish has told me all about you, come in and sit you down, while I try to figure out if I can still brew coffee."

"Oh, no… no coffee for me, unless it's decaffeinated, please."

"Huh, stuff and nonsense, I s'pose this is one of your cravin's, hey?" she demanded, fixing Jen with a stare from eyes that she now saw were of an even brighter blue than her husband's, and were twinkling with as much mischief as Harm's ever had.

"But, come on in anyway, and if you can't drink coffee, can you drink tea? It's none of your fancy stuff, just something my daddy dredged up out of Boston harbour!"

Sarah Rabb bustled around her kitchen, the centre of which was dominated by an old somewhat battered but lovingly polished refectory table at which Harm and Jen, their offers of help robustly denied, were seated. In a few minutes a pot of tea, a plate of sourdough biscuits, a crock of butter and a dish of home-made apple preserve were placed on the table.

"So, tell me," Sarah said to Jen as she poured tea for all three of them, "what made you take on the job of trying to tame Mr Footloose and Fancy Free, here?"

"Oh, I just got tired of him wandering round with that cocky grin on his face the whole time," Jen replied light-heartedly, "and I figured that no single guy had a right to be that happy, and as no-one else volunteered, I guess it just had to be me. No, that's not quite true," she contradicted herself, adding thoughtfully, "It would be more accurate to say that I wasn't about to let anyone else volunteer. I may not deserve him, but certainly nobody else did!"

"Well, that's pretty accurate description of what happened," Grams, Harm contributed, "except that Jen's got her pronouns the wrong way round!"

"So, you two are really happy, it's not just because…?" Sarah nodded her head in the direction of Jen's belly.

"Grams, we are very, very happy. I don't think we can deny that we've moved a bit faster than we had intended to, I was going to wait until Jen's enlistment was up, but the outcome was never in doubt. And we are very happy that there's a little Rabb on its way."

"Are you alright with this, Mrs Rabb?" Jen asked a little nervously, laying her hand over her stomach.

"Oh, lordy, lord, yes. And you don't call me 'Mrs Rabb," I'm Sarah, or Grams, whichever you prefer! Jennifer, you're in the country here, not stuck in the city; we're pretty close to nature here, and I recall as a young girl hearing a feller being congratulated on the safe, premature birth of his son, saying that no, the baby wasn't early, but that the wedding was late, so it's nothing unusual, not round here. Mind you," she fixed her bright blue eyes accusingly on her grandson, "I figured that somebody with all the education he's had ought to have known better."

"That's not totally fair, Grams." Jen sprang to Harm's defence, "it takes two to tango!"

"Why, yes, it does, dear," Sarah stretched out a hand to lay it on top of Jen's, "but us women folk have to be able to trust our men with the simple things, in life, or where would we be?"

"In the delivery room?" asked Jen with her dimple-revealing grin.

Sarah looked at her in surprise, and then chuckled, "Oh, well done, very well done! But it still doesn't excuse your thoughtlessness young man! But I forgive you Jennifer, because that's my great grandchild you've got there, and I didn't think I'd ever see once after…" she stopped in confusion and glanced guiltily at Harm.

"It's OK, Grams, Jen knows all about Diane, except, maybe… Jen, when I told you that Diane put me back together after the crash, did I tell you that here's where we came?"

"No, but I figured it out from something Trish said, and looking around, I can see that this would be a great place for healing…"

"Yeah, it was, it is" he agreed and then looking back at Sarah, he said a little uneasily, "Grams, maybe we ought to go and sit somewhere more comfortable. There's a long story I need to tell you."

"Well, let's just drop these in the sink and I'm all attention."

Harm and Jen's offer of help was once more rebuffed and they could only sit waiting for Sarah to finish with the dirty dishes. Jen looked across the table while Sarah's back was to them and silently mouthed "Loren?" Harm simply nodded in reply.

Dishes cleaned and dried to Sarah's satisfaction, she ushered them into her parlour at the front of the house. It was a comfortable room furnished with a pair of armchairs and a couch before which was a low coffee table,. A television set and a VCR, seeming incongruously out-of-place in a setting right out of the 1950s, stood in one corner of the room, while a low bookshelf was in easy reach of one of the chairs, next to which stood a standard lamp. Sarah lowered herself into this chair and motioned for Harm and Jen to sit. Taking their place on the couch, they exchanged looks and Harm licking his suddenly dry lips said gently, "Grams, Jen's baby isn't your only great-grandchild. You have a beautiful great-granddaughter named Alexandra Maria Rabb."

Sarah looked at him in angry surprise, "And you've never told me about her before! How old is she, and why haven't I ever met or even heard of her before?"

"Grams, she'll be fourteen days old tomorrow, which is why you're only learning about her today, and before you start pointing any more fingers, I'm not the guilty party here. Her mother is called Loren, and she works with me in DC. There's no easy way to tell you this, so I'm just going to go straight ahead, and I'm afraid it's going to hurt. When dad was shot down in 'Nam…" So for the second time in ten days Harm told the story of his father's long imprisonment, his escape from the gulag and of the birth of Sergei, his attempt to emigrate to the USA, and his eventual meeting with Loren.

"Sergei got lonely for Russia and he went back there before either he or Loren knew she was pregnant. When she found out, she was already serving on board ship, so it wasn't until she got back to a shore base that she was able to 'phone Sergei and tell him. Sergei didn't behave very well, I'm afraid, and basically he told Loren it was her problem; he was engaged to a Russian girl and he wanted nothing more to do with Loren or her child. Loren was about four months, maybe a bit more, pregnant at the time, and she took leave and got out of town, all the way across to California. Somehow, somebody at Falls Church told Trish about Loren, and Trish tracked her down. And you know Trish, she sees someone hurting, and she takes them under her wing, so Loren, not without some protest I reckon, became part of Trish's family." He paused for breath and Jen took over the story.

"Loren's not had it easy, and she became very shut off, and had a hard time letting anyone get close to her, but she finally let Sergei in, and for him to get so close and then just abandon her makes Sergei's behaviour all the worse. She's very prickly and very private and... yes, very proud. I believe she couldn't bear anyone thinking that she had been used and discarded; she wouldn't even tell the navy who the father was and she nearly got court-martialled because they thought it had happened at sea, against regulations. She still I think, doesn't completely trust us, which is why we haven't sprung her on you, or surprised her by bringing her out here to meet you before you knew a little bit about her, but I guess we're hoping you'll welcome Alexandra, and if you do, then I guess you'll have to welcome Loren too."

Sarah who had silently wept tears of sorrow and pain at various stages during Harm's re-telling of her only son's long imprisonment and death, once again had tears, this time of sympathy, running down her face, "Of course they're welcome here. As soon as Loren is ready, she must come to visit with me. Harm, I am really disappointed in you; how can you have doubted for even one second that I wouldn't accept them with open arms."

"Grams," he said gently, "Of course I knew you would, and will, but I didn't want to surprise you by just throwing them at you, and like Jen, I don't think Loren is quite ready yet, either. She seems to have been quite overwhelmed by Trish and Frank, and I suppose to a lesser extent by Jen, and she needs time to be able to process everything that's happened to her over the last six weeks." He smiled, "Loren might be having difficulty in accepting us, but I guess I must have been a lousy step-son, because Frank really does seem to have adopted her and Alexandra, it's like he's trying to make up for not having that bond with me."

"Yes," Jen added, "but he's bonding with Alexandra is because Trish made him stand by Loren in the delivery room."

Sarah was, or pretended to be, scandalised by this revelation, it was unthinkable she said that any woman would let a strange man see her like that.

"It's alright Grams," Jen smiled, "the man stands at the woman's head and all the action is hidden by draped sheets. There are not many men who can look at what they're responsible for!"

"That's not strictly true, Jen," Harm protested, "after all, the admiral delivered Harriett's AJ - right in his office too!"

"Well, yes, but he wasn't the baby's father" Jen stated defiantly

"No, and Frank isn't Alexandra's father, either," Harm countered.

"Ah, but," Jen added triumphantly, "the admiral's a SEAL!"

Jen's tone and the look of smugness on her face caused both Harm and Sarah to break into laughter, and having broken the tension, just as she had intended, Jen asked if Sarah was up to showing her around the house. She had felt that Harm, although he hid it well, was becoming unusually restless, and his eyes seemed to be searching for something, or perhaps someone, that was missing. Her intuition suggested that perhaps he needed some time to maybe lay some of his remaining ghosts.

Jen wasn't that far off the mark. Told, in no uncertain terms, by his loving wife that he would only get in the way, he supposed that Jen wanted a woman to woman chat with Grams, so picking up his jacket from where it had been dropped on top of their go-bags in the hallway, he stepped out into the still chilly air and wandered around old, familiar and some half-forgotten places.

The Big Barn was where he had discovered his father's half-restored Stearman, and with Diane's loving encouragement and gentle bullying he had, almost as a form of therapy, brought it back to its former air-worthy condition. Tracing the now half-obliterated trail around the side of the barn, he followed the edge of the twenty-four acre pasture downhill towards the tree-lined stream where as a six and seven year old he had tried to scoop up frogspawn in a jelly jar and had tried to catch newly morphed frogs, no bigger than his thumb. He had gotten, wet, muddy and tired and a good telling-off from Grams when he had finally trudged back up the hill in the twilight at the close of day. This was the same stream that ran down between the twenty-four acre and Friday Copse, skirting the Edmonds' property that bordered Grams' and down to the Whitehills River where he had learned to fish for trout, and had fallen in more than a few times! But here, at the bend in the stream where a gap in the trees allowed a long view down the length of the valley towards the south-west was where he and Diane had sat on long summer evenings on the old fallen tree trunk and watched the sun drop down behind the distant hills. Sitting in his old position on the tree trunk, and looking around he could feel it, he could feel her almost physical presence, that she was still somehow here, watching him and smiling lovingly and gently at him. Rising again to his feet, he stood for long minutes, in some strange way, knowing that she would be happy that he had again found love and then with a sigh he turned for home, in the knowledge that he would never, could never, come here again.


	19. Home Is Where The Heart Is

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 19  
>Home is Where the Heart Is<strong>

Returning to the house and its yard, Harm gave the place a quick inspection, there were a couple of split shingles on the roof of the house, and he thought earlier that one of the steps to the porch had given a little too much as he'd stepped on it. The door and window frames could do with… no, the whole place could do with a lick of paint; he wouldn't have time for that this visit, but he had to, and could, do something about that step, before Grams had an accident, and if he was going to get his carpentry tools out, then he might as well replace those split shingles before they allowed any weather damage to the house.

Now, unless Grams had had it moved - she could never have shifted it by herself - his old foot locker with his tools in it, should be under the work bench in the small barn, and squinting up at the sky, he judged he had a good three or four hours of working light left to him before sun-down.

Walking around the side of the house towards the small barn he figured out what had been niggling at the back of his mind - chickens! There had always been chickens around the place when he was a boy, and as he'd visited during vacations as he'd grown older, it had been part of his chores to round up the birds every evening and get them safely into their roost, and then in the mornings to release them to forage and to check for eggs. But about ten years ago Grams, had given up on them; she had said that she was too old to go chasing silly birds around every evening, but now there chickens, at least two dozen of them scratching around in a flimsy wire-net enclosure. Making a mental note to ask what had changed Grams' mind he pulled open the side door and stepped into the barns dark, and yes, he thought, as his eyes started to sting, definitely pungent interior.

As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he made out a long raised structure against the far side wall of the barn that he recognised as a roost, and the source of odour, while his old work bench still stood just to the right of the door, and above it he was relieved to see that lengths of cut timber still rested on the wall-mounted brackets. Eyeing the timber, he selected a length that seemed to match his immediate needs and manoeuvred it from its resting place and leaned at against the wall, while he crouched down and tugged the old foot locker out from under the bench. Equipped with saw, carpenter's rule, timber, hammer and nails he spent the next hour replacing the rotten step with a freshly measured and cut piece, interrupted only by Jen, who brought him a mug of coffee and muttering something about 'family jewels' disappeared back into the house.

After an unsuccessful search of the barn for a suitable piece of raw timber from which he could split off the necessary shingles, he sighed, stretched and put his tools back in the foot locker, resolving to go in search of a fallen or dead cedar branch the next morning. He would also need to drive into Bellville for some white paint; he grinned to himself, with the jobs lining themselves up, he and Jen would be lucky to get home before dinner time tomorrow evening.

Speaking of dinner, he thought, as his stomach emitted a prolonged rumble, he was about ready or it any time now. Grams' sourdough biscuits were good, but it had been a long time since breakfast, and the biscuits didn't go all that far towards filling an otherwise empty stomach!

Walking back to the house, he entered through the kitchen door so he could wash up at the sink, but his heart sank as he saw his wife and his grandmother seated at the kitchen table and poring over what he recognised as one of the family photograph albums. Jen looked up as he entered and with a deep sense of foreboding, he recognised the expression on her face; she was smiling, almost giggling at whatever she had been looking at, and her eyes lighting up as she saw him were brimming with what he acknowledged could only be described as naughtiness.

Sarah Rabb looked at them each in turn, Jennifer's amusement was infectious, and Harmon looked just as he had all those years ago when as a small boy he had committed some as yet to her unknown offence - as guilty as all get-out. Although she had welcomed Jennifer with open arms, prepared to love her based on Patricia's unreserved praise over the 'phone, she couldn't help but feel when she first saw her that Harmon may have chosen a bride who was too young for him, and maybe he had felt pressured by her pregnancy into proposing, but now seeing them together and after the initial formality between herself and Jennifer had worn off, she could tell that neither of her reservations had any relevance. Jennifer seemed older than her years would suggest, and Harmon, well he seemed somehow younger. Neither did Jennifer seem to be the sort of young woman who would be happy with a marriage based on anything other than love. Yes, she thought with satisfaction, Harmon had chosen the right woman… or had she chosen him? Well, no matter.

Harm looked at Jen, and although he felt he was due for some hard core teasing, her grin, revealing the otherwise hidden dimple in her right cheek, was so broad that couldn't help smiling back at her. Rolling up his shirt sleeves he scrubbed his hands under the running water and drying off on the towel handed to him by his grandmother, he joined them at the table.

"OK," he said resignedly, "give it your best shot!"

"Grams was telling me that when you were very young, that you couldn't decide whether you wanted to be Wild Bill Hickok or Casey Jones. I guess there was a shortage of locomotives, but we got plenty of shots of you as Wild Bill!" She showed him the photographs she had been smiling at when he came in. He looked at them critically; a rather chubby and solemn faced child, dressed in 1960's toy-store approved cowboy clothes with an apparently enormous six-shooter weighting down is belt and which had slipped around into the position normally occupied by a kilted Scotsmen's sporran, and then the same boy astride a pony, scowling at the camera, and a third image, the same boy on the same pony but this time with a grin on his face and tipping back the brim of the hat with the muzzle of his pistol.

Despite his embarrassment, he grinned in recollection, "Yeah, practically every kid wanted to be an engineer or a cowboy, and those that didn't wanted to be firemen. I guess that phase lasted until dad took me to visit the _Ticonderoga_, and popped me into the seat of his F-4. I never looked back after that.

"No, and see where it got you," Sarah sniffed with some acerbity.

"Oh, I am," Harm said softly looking at Jen and gently squeezing her hand.

Sarah tried, but failed to completely hide her own smile, but by pretending to have a little difficulty in standing up, she managed to avert her face until she had regained a somewhat more severe aspect. "I suppose you're still eating that vegetable nonsense?" she challenged her grandson.

"Well, yes, I am," he admitted, and mentally bracing himself for the criticism he knew that was coming, he added. "And I'm trying to get Jen to eat less meat and fats."

"Well, less fat is probably a good thing, but you can't cut it out entirely, you need some fat in your diet, and at least for the moment Jen needs easily digested protein, so don't you go all out bullying her!"

Jen grimaced, "Don't worry Grams, I'm not quite such a fanatic as Harm, and my doctor says the same as you, well almost; she recommended that I have a small piece of liver every now and then, until this one's made her debut, at least!"

"Well, we won't be having any of that tonight, just a filled omelette, with some of that ratty-tooly stuff that Harmon is so fond of, and a couple of bacon slices for you and me, dear." Sarah paused and smiled at Jen, "Her? You know already?"

"Well, we haven't been told, officially, but I kinda just know…" Jen admitted a bit sheepishly.

"Oh, well, if you're that certain, I shall have to get some pink wool I guess," Sarah said.

"Yes, thank you, I've a sneaky suspicion that we're going to need all the help we can get with baby-clothes. But only if you're sure you want to?"

"Jennifer, I may be getting a little too long in the tooth to run the farm any more, but I can still work with knitting needles and a crochet hook!"

Jen smiled wistfully, "I never learned how to use either, mom died before I really had a chance to learn from her, and then… well, my dad… let's just say that he and I had different priorities in life."

"It's not that difficult Jennifer. If it can be done, I'd love to have you visit with me for a good while a bit later in the year, and then we can sit and talk about babies, knitting, tatting and crocheting and even how to make an American quilt… and if we can do it," she added in a stage whisper and with a sidelong look at Harm, "without some man getting in the way and making a mess and noise all the place, so much the better."

Harm looked indulgently at the two of them who both had a teasing look in their eyes, "At least," he said ruminatively, "although we were still outnumbered in San Diego, Frank and I had each other for moral support!"

"I suppose we should be thankful that it was only you and Frank," Sarah snorted, "instead of the two of you and that awful Keeper friend of yours from your squadron!" but the severity of her words was belied by the amusement in her face.

"Jen!" Harm assumed an expression that somehow combined both hurt and puzzlement, "do you think Grams means my god old buddy Jack Keeter? You know, the guy who was our best man?"

Jen did her best to mimic Sarah's stern expression, but the flickering of her dimple betrayed just how hard she was finding it not to laugh at his play-acting, "No… I think," she said slowly, "that she means the Jack Keeter who swatted my butt in public!" she cast a glance from under her eyelashes and she said this to gauge Sarah's reaction

Completely unoffended by Jen's words, Grams Sarah just chuckled and said, "Jennifer, I've known about that tradition for navy marriages, since long before Harmon was born!"

He words produced only laughter, in which she joined, before saying, "If we want to eat this evening, we'd best head in to fixing things so we can."

"You said, 'we'," Jen interposed, "and we would very much like to be a part of that we, so please let us lend a hand?"

Sarah smiled and said, "If you really want, then of course you may."

The preparation of the simple meal took very little time and Jen was fascinated by the steps needed to use the large wood-burning stove and oven and the way that Sarah moved the pots nearer to and further way the fiercest heat that spread from the central ring set into its top.

"It makes you understand why, in the days before ceramic hobs, master chefs were so highly regarded, doesn't it?" Harm asked from where he was whisking the eggs in a large earthenware bowl at the kitchen table, before handing it to Sarah.

"Is this how you learned to cook, then?" Jen questioned.

"Lord, no! Grams would never let me run loose in the kitchen! No, I didn't start to cook until after I changed my designator from pilot and got an apartment of my own!" The look of comical dismay on his face brought more laughter, and the omelette stuffed with the ratatouille being brought to the table the meal was eaten almost as quickly as it had been prepared.

Having eaten, Harm and Jen insisted that they should do the post-dinner clearing and cleaning, which Sarah grudgingly allowed, although she subjected them to a barrage of advice and instructions from her sideline position at the kitchen table. Finally, after hanging up his tea-towel harm sat down with her and said, "Grams, this is going to sound a lot like interference, but it isn't, it's just concern. What's going on here?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Harmon."

"Well, you said a few years ago that you were giving up on farming and that you were going to live quietly. But this afternoon, I saw about two dozen head in the twenty-four, and there's a wire pen of chickens outside, and a roost inside, the small barn."

"Oh, they're not mine, Harmon. The beeves belong to Peter Edmonds, he's renting the twenty-four and the Long Acre for pasture, and the chickens belong to Mary-Jo, his second eldest, she's about thirteen; she pays twenty-eight eggs a week in rent. And Peter's rent helps out with expenses. I was just waiting for his next rent-check to get Willy Anderson to come out here and fix the step and the shakes on the roof."

"OK… the shakes, I've got scheduled for tomorrow, after I've been into Belleville and got some paint for the doors and window frames. It's all I've got time for tomorrow before we have to head back to DC, but I will bring Jen for a longer stay when I can some more leave and the weather's a bit warmer, and then I'll start in and give a fresh lick of paint to the house. So don't you go calling Mr Anderson, now, there's no need."

Sarah smiled and said with a twinkle, "Why, heavens, I most certainly shan't do that now. Why on earth should I pay a man to do a job that I can get done for free by family?"

Harm just grinned and shook his head in mock despair, "She does this to me every time, Jen!"

"And it is only right that I should Harmon Rabb! It is only right that you should look after your old kinfolk in their declining years."

"Declining years? Grams, you're as tough as a length of rawhide, and will probably outlast us all," Harmon said fondly.

"Don't be so disrespectful to an old woman!" she chided him, but again Jen was amazed at the way in which this family continually teased each other. A she sat there wondering how they could speak to each other in disrespectful and even severe tones, she realised that their mockery, protests and reprimands was a shield and a cover for the love that was shared by all the members of the family, and it was the lack of that love in her own family that had prevented them from being able to laugh at each other and at themselves.

Sarah noticed that Jen and become lost in thought, and in a stage whisper to Harm, she said, "Now, tell me all about how you met, and who said what to whom, and just what is it about you that made this poor girl lose her head and marry you?"

"Whoa, Grams, that's a pretty big ask, but to answer your last question first, I don't have any idea! As to how we met, well Jen was my prisoner…" Harm started to re-tell the story of their unusual courtship, and how it had all started when Jen had kissed him on the cheek after the Christmas Eve service at the chapel in Falls Church, and when told she could get brig time for the kiss had replied, "It was worth it!", and then, over Jen's blushing protests, how she had practically shouted those same words at the admiral, and how scared he had been that the admiral was going to throw her into the brig on the spot, and how very, very proud he had been of her as she'd said it, and how much he loved her right at that minute and would for the rest of their lives.

The telling of the rest of the story, complete with contradictions from Jen, and jumps forward in time and then having fill in the back story, and asides to explain who the various characters were took the rest of the evening.

Sarah had laughed a little, cried a little and eventually as Jen and Harm finished their complementary and sometime contradictory story of their wedding day she fell silent and as their voices trailed off into silence, she looked up at them once more and said, "I won't wish you happiness, my dears, you have it already, I just wish you a long life so that you may enjoy it together. Now, you two can stay up and watch the sunrise if you wish, but if you'll forgive an old lady, these old bones are ready for their bed."

Allowing Sarah plenty of time to prepare for bed, Harm and Jen eventually followed her upstairs and to the room she had prepared for them, where each having made their own preparations they slipped into bed together, and Jen snuggled up close to Harm while he stroked her hair, and said to her, "I've had a horrible thought."

Alarmed, Jen propped herself on her elbow and strained to make out his face in the faint moonlight that lit the room, "Why, what's wrong?" she asked, her concern evident in her voice.

"Well," he answered trying to keep his amusement out of his voice, "I was just thinking how you and Grams double-teamed me earlier, and when our daughter's born, and if everything goes according Frank's plan, there'll be you and her, and Loren and Alexandra, and I," he continued mournfully, am going to be sooo outnumbered..."

"Oh… you…" she complained, lightly punching his shoulder. "Scare me again like that and you are going to be sooo in trouble!"

He chuckled quietly, while Jen her head resting on his shoulder could clearly feel the reverberations of his laughter, and smiled.

The following morning Harm woke early and careful not wake Jen he slid out of bed and quickly showering and dressing he made his way downstairs and set about brewing a pot of coffee and making toast. Breakfast finished he took a walk out into Friday Copse where he hoped to find a suitable piece of timber to split into shingles for the roof. His search took longer than he had wanted, but he did eventually find a suitable dead branch, but not before he raked his forearm along the stub of a broken twig, causing a bloody but superficial scratch, and twisted an ankle when his foot slipped off a moss covered stone. Cursing himself for making stupid, clumsy mistakes that he wouldn't have made as an eight year old, he carried his prize back to the house-yard, where cutting it to length and splitting it with a mallet and froe, took a very few minutes, and not much longer to drag the ladder from the big barn and erect it against the roof eves. But his industry was not with its penalties, his nailing the shakes into place was the signal for both Jen and Sarah to abandon their beds and rain disapproval down on his unrepentant head.

Waving them a cheerful goodbye he leaped into the 'vette and roared off toward Belleville's one and only hardware store. Returning just under an hour later, he plugged in his newly acquired rotary sander, and covering his nose and mouth with a disposable mask he set about preparing the front door and the downstairs window frames for a 'lick of paint'.

Inside the house, Jen gave Sarah as much of a hand as the older woman would allow, which she said, "Does not include you trying to turn mattresses, move furniture or lift anything that might possibly weigh more than ten pounds!"

That went well, Harm thought, as he stood back and admired his handiwork, at just after three o'clock. The front door, carefully propped open, was drying in the afternoon sun; thank the gods the weather had turned warm again! The window frames looked good too. Alright, he'd had had to spend half an hour removing the paint from where a careless brush-stroke had smeared it across the glass. Yes, it would have been easier to leave it to dry and then carefully scrape it off with a sharp blade, but he really didn't have the time to wait for the paint to dry and he wasn't about to leave it for Grams to clean up.

It wouldn't take him many minutes to clean up, he reckoned as he carefully re-sealed the plastic bucket of paint and carried it to the small barn; although these jeans were probably never going to be the same again. Still, they had soaked up the spillage quickly enough and it had now dried sufficiently so that he didn't risk transferring any paint to the 'vette's upholstery, well at least he hoped so.

Jen looked at him with exasperated fondness, how he had managed to get almost as much paint on himself as he had on the door and window frames was beyond her. This was the man, she remembered with frustration, who single-handedly had virtually re-built a vintage bi-plane, including the painting of it in the correct US Navy Training Command livery for its day, and now look at him. Little A J Roberts would have made less mess! Oh, well, while he's scrubbing off the paint, I guess I'd best get our bags into the car.

An almost paint-free Harm joined Grams Sarah and Jen as they sat on the porch swing-seat, and smiling gently he said with real reluctance in his voice, "Grams, we got to get on the road now. Thank you for letting us visit with you."

Sarah pulled herself to her feet and leaning on her cane, she wrapped one arm around his neck and pulled his face down for her kiss, "Stuff and nonsense boy! You know there are no thanks ever needed 'round here for family. You just come and visit with me any time you can - and don't leave it so long next time!"

"No, Grams we won't; we want Jen to come and visit with you again before she gets too big to travel comfortably. Hopefully at the beginning of Fall at the latest."

"Humph! Now you let go of me, boy, and let me give your wife a hug!" and turning Jen Sarah wrapped her in her arms and kissed her forehead, "Now, you make sure that grandson of mine looks after you properly, because if you don't then you'll both have me to contend with!"

Jen smiled as she returned Sarah's hug and said "Yes, ma'am, you can be sure I will."

Sarah stood back at arm's length and said, "Stuff and nonsense child, he's got you completely wrapped around his little finger. You take care now, of all three of you!"

With a watery smile, Jen climbed into the Corvette and buckled her seat-belt, and just as Harm was about to do the same he heard his grandmother calling, "Harmon! Harmon! Wait up! I nearly forgot!"

He saw her hobbling as fast as she could down the steps and across the yards, holding a bundle against her hip with her free hand, and turned back to meet her and to stop her headlong progress.

"Grams, take it easy, you don't have to run, we'll wait. What is it?" he asked with a worried frown,

"Oh, it's just that in all the fuss and botheration," she puffed, "that I forgot to give you this," proffering the bundle which he now saw was made up of a tea-towel wrapped around something that looked solid and when he took it from her felt warm. He raised his eyebrows in a mute question and she answered, "It's just a dish of apple crisp, something of treat for Jen, and not too sweet so that you won't enjoy it either! And," she added mysteriously, "I forgot to give you this, she handed him a flat blue leather case about nine inches long and five wide and just under two inches deep. "It's a little something for Jen that she should have had on her wedding day. Now mind, she's not to see it nor open until you get home!"

"Yes, ma'am," he said. He had a feeling that he knew just what was in the case and could say nothing more than, "I love you Grams."

"Of course you do, son, and I love you… all three of you. Now be sure to drive safely, none of your reckless aviator tricks, now. You hear me?"

"Aye, aye ma'am!"

Returning to the car he managed by using his body as a shield as he half-knelt on the driver's seat to wedge the wrapped dish between their go-bags and at the same time slide the slim blue case into his bag. Then settling himself behind the wheel, he buckled his seat-belt and turned the key to start the engine. As he drove out of the yard, Jen twisted in her seat to catch a last glimpse of Sarah, standing at the foot of the porch steps and watching them leave with one hand raised in silent farewell.

Jen remained silent, lost in her memories of the last two days as Harm negotiated the narrow twisting road down into Belleville, and then turned right on Pennsylvania State Highway 655. Once clear of Belleville and purring southwards at a steady sixty miles per hour, Harm said, "Give you a penny for them?"

Jen smiled and said, "Oh, they're worth far, far more than that. I don't think that they've even got a price, so I'll tell you for free. I can't believe how much your family has welcomed me. You sprung me on them so quickly that Trish and Frank had hardly time to say 'hi' when you rushed us all off to the court house; and Grams… I honestly don't know what to say… she was just so good, so kind… She didn't even get to meet me before I turn up, pregnant on her doorstep; and apart from that one question, she didn't even blink… and now I'm going to shut up before I start into weeping and wailing!"

Keeping his eye on the road, Harm stretched out his right hand towards Jen who took it in her grasp, and then taking him completely by surprise, she lifted to her lips and gently kissed it.

"Hey! Jen, what's that for?"

"Because you're my husband, and I love you, and I can't kiss you properly right now, so that's just to show you how I feel."

"Well, OK… But take it easy on an old man would you? I don't think I can stand many more surprises like that!"

Jen laughed, the tension easing out of her. He does that to me every time, she said to herself, I get all emotional and teary and he seems to know it and to know exactly what to say to turn my feelings around. I have never felt so protected, so safe in all my life. It's like my wild years never happened, but without them I would never have met him. Do I regret them? Well yes and no, I was dumb, stupid dumb and I have been rewarded way beyond what I deserve. Am I going to stay feeling like this for the rest of my life? God, I hope so!

Harm trying to concentrate on his driving took advantage of the long straight sections of this little travelled stretch of road, flicked his eyes to his right to watch Jen sitting relaxed with a slight smile curving her lips. She was so young, so beautiful, how the hell did he ever get so lucky as to have her fall in love with him? An old, beat up ex-jet jockey with a wrecked back, and too much emotional baggage that he had carried around for too many years. She knew he'd been panting after another woman for years, and yet she had still given him her body, her heart and her soul, shop soiled though he was. Better still, she had given him hope and a future. Their future. Together.

The miles rolled out under the 'vette's wheels and both driver and passenger stayed silent, content to relish their thoughts and their feelings. Occasionally one or the other would turn and smile, and as if they could feel the eyes on them the other would turn and smile in return.

Just less than two hours after leaving Bellville Harm eased off the accelerator as he approached a gas station on the northern edge of Hagerstown and rolled to halt in front of the pumps. "Do you want anything, Jen?" he asked her as he got out to start topping up the gas tank.

Jen smiled and said, "No nothing, thanks, I'll wait till we get home; sorry to disappoint you sailor, but no strange cravings yet. I'll let you know as soon as I get some!"

The tank filled and the gas paid for, Harm settled back into the driver's seat. "Jen, we're just on the north side of Hagerstown, do you want…?"

Jen bit her lip and thought for a minute. She didn't really want to go and see her father, their last meeting, the day she had met Harm still rankled. But she supposed she had a duty to tell him that she was married and that he was about to become a grand-parent. It might spoil the taste of the day to have to deal with him, but unless she and Harm were willing to make a special trip from DC up to Hagerstown, he would always sour a trip to Grams's no matter when they decided to make a halt. She shrugged mentally; it might as well be now as any other time. Turning to Harm, and already beginning to regret it as she spoke, "Yeah, let's get it over and done with."

Harm conducted a weeping Jen back to the car. He was livid with rage. Never before had he so much regretted his size and power. Much as he wanted to pound the old bastard into oblivion, he just couldn't do it, he could no more pound on somebody so much smaller, older and weaker than he was than he could swim to the bottom of the ocean. And the son-of-a-bitch had known it; he had goaded the pair of them, and openly sneered at Harm's powerless inability to defend Jen from his spiteful, filthy words.

He had opened the door at Harm's knocking and had stood, unwelcoming, blocking the entrance in a grimy undershirt, with unshaven face and hatred for humanity emanating from every pore of his body.

"Good evening, sir," Harm had begun, I don't know if you recall me, I'm..."

"I remember you sailor boy, what's Jennifer done this time?"

Harm drew a breath, "Mr Coates, we just called by to let you know that Jennifer and I were married last Satur…"

"Little whore got herself knocked up at last did she?"

"Thank you for your congratulations, daddy!" Jen, white with pain and anger, spat out.

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised." The Reverend Coates continued, ignoring his daughter, "Surprised at you though, for getting caught like that; I thought you were smart when I saw you last year, but you're just as dumb as any of the fellers, she's been chasing since she was fourteen. Hell, no, you're even dumber; you let the little tramp catch you. Well, I hope she was worth it! Caught an officer, did she? she's done better for herself than she deserves; never did figure she end up any better than some waterfront chippie! So, you come to tell me she caught a man? Well, if that's what you come to say, you said it. Now get off my property!"


	20. Round and Round the Houses

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 20  
>Round and Round the Houses<strong>

Trish sighed as she Frank and Loren settled down after dinner to scan the property section of the day's newspapers. For the most part, it had been a disappointing day. She had forgotten in the intervening years since she and Frank had finally settled on the house in La Jolla, just how frustrating house-hunting could be, and she reflected bitterly. their lack of success meant that they got to do it all over again tomorrow!

Yet, it could have been worse. At least they'd only had four places to look at today, and thanks to Harm, and Loren's, local knowledge they had been able to plan the most efficient route, but the four places they had seen had proved to be disappointments. The house in Alexandria had seemed perfect; the main part of the house had four bedrooms, the largest with an en suite bathroom, and a shared bathroom for the other three bedrooms. There was a permanent staircase leading up to the loft, while downstairs was dominated by a large lounge/dining room and also held the kitchen and a small room which could be fitted as an office. The single storey, two-bedroom guest house was reached by a path that ran around the front and then the side of the house before following the edge of the back yard and skirted the ornamental fish pond in the middle of the lawn. That had been the one item that had made an otherwise ideal house immediately off limits.

Trish and Loren, carrying Alexandra in her car-seat, had taken one horrified look at the pond and had turned to each other; both had had very similar, terrible visions of a toddler floating face down in the water, and had simultaneously said "No!"

The second house at was not in Springfield as the property listing had said, but was actually in North Springfield just inside the Beltway and in area of planned development for suburban commuters. Loren took one look out of the car window and said, "No, _veto_."

Frank turned from where he was sitting behind the wheel and looked back over his shoulder in surprise, "That's it, _veto_, when you haven't even got out of the car?"

"Damn straight!" exclaimed Loren, with a decisive nod of her head, for emphasis. "Look at them, every house is just a carbon copy of its neighbour, and that's not us. Besides, look how much traffic there is, and this place is wide open."

Frank said, "Well, yes, but it's a modern build, and the maintenance would be low for years to come, and what do you mean, 'wide open'?"

Trish tutted and said, "Frank, you're thinking like a landlord, with your low-maintenance. Loren's thinking like a mommy, for herself and for Jen. Just look at all the cars parked up here on the side of the street. I'll bet this whole neighbourhood is full of families with kids being driven to soccer games and dance classes, and I'll bet that none of the moms car-pool. With all that traffic the children wouldn't be safe to play outside without being fenced in!"

Frank looked crestfallen at his own inability to see what had been instantly apparent to both Loren and Trish and mumbled, "Yeah, I guess I do need to change my perspective."

"There, Loren," Trish said with smug satisfaction, "they're not always too old to learn new tricks - if you try hard enough and for long enough!"

With both Trish and Loren giggling, Frank assumed a dignified silence ('sulking' Trish called it) and headed for house number three on their list. The house in Burke looked good. Except, Frank winced inwardly, It was set back from the road by at least one hundred feet, the space between the house and the sidewalk was an immaculate lawn which would need mowing at least once a week during the summer. But, it was a substantial house, and a major advantage for their purposes was the garage, over which a separate apartment had been built was free-standing and not attached to the house. Looking at Loren, Frank said, "Well, is this one worth getting out of the car for?"

Loren nodded, and turned her attention to unstrapping Alexandra's car seat, in preparation for carrying it with her while she inspected the house.

"Loren, why don't you leave her here with me?" Trish suggested, "I'm really only here for the ride. You're the one checking the house for suitability, and Frank's the one checking it for value. Besides," she continued in a stage whisper, "I'd forgotten how much I hate house-hunting; ask Frank just how interested I was by the time he'd dragged me around a dozen or so houses in a week when we first settled at La Jolla!"

Loren felt trapped, she didn't want to let Alexandra out of her sight, but at the same time the car seat was not only heavy, but despite its carrier handle, was an awkward shape and size, and how could she say no to Trish without giving the older woman the notion that she wasn't trusted? She smiled weakly and mumbled, "Oh, it's alright Trish, I don't want to bother you with her..."

"Oh, nothing of the sort Loren, I'll be glad of the opportunity. I've barely had a chance to cuddle my granddaughter since we left California."

Loren still hesitated; Alexandra was not related to Trish at all, except in the most tenuous way, but Trish and Frank had taken her to their hearts, and there was no-one else who could with as much justification as they claim privileges as grand-parents. Trish and Frank had done so much for both her and her baby, that to insist on keeping Alexandra with her would only show deep ingratitude, and Loren wasn't ungrateful for the support that she had been shown by this family of strangers who had opened their home and their hearts to her and her daughter. However, she made one last weak protest, "If you're absolutely sure she won't be a nuisance...?"

"Oh, Loren, how much a nuisance do you think a sleeping two-week-old could possibly be to an old battleaxe like me?"

Reluctantly Loren left her baby with Trish and, not without a couple of backward looks, followed Frank to the front door where the realtor was waiting to meet them. That was a negative point, she thought, just a short flight on three steps up to the door, no porch, no swing seat, but then again the front of the house was wide open to the street, no trees or even bushes to provide the slightest semblance of privacy.

The realtor, Susie-Mae something-or-other that Loren didn't quite catch unlocked the front door and ushered them in and a wave of not quite fresh air assailed Loren's nostrils. Seeing the look of distaste that passed over Loren's face, Suzie-Mae apologised, "Yes, it is a bit musty, I'm afraid. These old buildings were built so much more solidly than the newer ones, so once the're shut, there's no air movement and it does get a little stale. They were built to last, you see, with real craftsmanship by craftsmen who took pride in their work. But once the house has been opened up - it's been closed for so long - it will soon air out"

Loren smiled politely, somehow not totally convinced by Suzie-Mae's words, while Frank looked openly sceptical. He at least knew the smell of long-established damp in brickwork and plaster, and while he knew little about local costs for builders, plasterers and bricklayers, he knew that apart from the initial purchase cost, the house would need at least another hundred thousand dollars worth of work before it was habitable for a family with a young baby. Loren wasn't happy either, she had heard of, although she hadn't read up on the subject, of sick building syndrome, but even with her imperfect understanding of the term, she thought that this place qualified. Turning to Frank, she cut across Suzie-Mae's praises of the neighbourhood, its good road communications, the near proximity to local stores and the retail park, and with some of her old curtness said for the second time that day, "_Veto",_

Frank just looked at her and said, "Yes, I concur." And then to Suzie-Mae said, "No, I'm sorry this won't do. The place is riddled with damp and it would cost too much, in time and money, on top of the asking price to get the house habitable."

"Oh," Suzie-Mae could see a fat sales commission heading south, "I'm sure we could come to some agreement with the vendor and bring the price down a little."

"How much is a little?" enquired Frank, while Loren raised a cynical eyebrow.

"Oh, shall we say I could probably get fifty K off the bottom line?"

"H'mm..." Loren asked, "How long has this place been on the market?"

Suzie-Mae consulted her notes, "Oh... just short of three years."

"I see, and how many show-rounds have there been?"

"I... I'm not quite sure... a few, certainly."

"Doesn't that tell you something about the house, its condition and the price being asked?" Loren asked.

Frank openly smiled, he had never quite been able to reconcile the Loren he had met with Harm's description of a keen, sharp-tongued and sharp-minded attorney. But now he saw a faint image of what Lieutenant L Singer, USN JAG Corps might be like in the courtroom. He liked what he saw, but failed to hide his grin of appreciation in time before Loren spotted it.

"What?" she demanded suspiciously.

"Oh, er..." and then inspiration hit Frank, he had watched enough courtroom dramas on TV to be able to salvage something, "I was just going to raise an objection. Prosecution is asking the witness to speculate!" he concluded triumphantly.

Loren hastily cast her mind back over her last few questions, and was forced to smile. She _had_ been cross-examining the realtor! But she wasn't about to let Frank off the hook quite so easily, "In the absence of a judge, and as I am the only legal expert here, your objection is overruled, sir!"

Suzie-Mae was suddenly seized by the feeling that she was now not only in an asylum, but that the inmates were running the place, and made a desperate effort to regain control of the situation, by now all she could see of her sales commission was a trail of dust hanging in the air "Can I just show you the upstairs?" she asked, "It was entirely re-modelled just before the last occupants moved out."

"No, we've seen enough, thank you. Frank?"

"Yes, I'm ready, thank you for your time Miss Delacroix."

"But..." But she was already talking to the space where they had been standing.

Trish saw them walking back towards the car, Frank's face wore a grin like a Cheshire cat, and Loren was smiling. Trish felt a lift of hope in her heart that the search, of which she was already tired, was over. "Well?" she asked.

"No, not this time," Loren replied, "the whole place smelt... funny?" she turned towards Frank for confirmation.

Frank nodded his head in agreement, "The whole place was shot through with damp. What you were smelling Loren, was mould in the walls."

"Mould!" Loren shot an anxious glance at Alexandra, "That's toxic, isn't? Could we have gotten any on us?"

"Yes, Loren... some moulds are toxic, or so some people say, but we didn't come into contact with any, so I'd say we're perfectly safe."

Loren smiled at him, grateful for his reassurance, but still concerned. Her concern wasn't eased a few minutes later when she asked Frank to pull over. Alexandra was fretting, and the ache in Loren's breasts was a good indication that it was time for Loren to feed her daughter. When he realised what was about to happen, Frank got out of the car "just to stretch his legs for five minutes." Loren nodded her appreciation of his tact and for allowing her the privacy to nurse, a privacy that Frank enhanced by standing with his back against the rear window of the rental.

Loren, however, was not quite ready to feed the now grizzling Alexandra, she turned to Trish with more than a hint of panic in her voice and said, "Trish, help me, I don't know what to do!"

Trish twisted around in her seat and asked, "Why, Loren, honey, whatever is the matter?"

"I need to feed Alexandra, but I'm worried I might be contaminated; I don't want to poison my baby!"

Trish thought furiously for a few seconds. This was a ticklish situation; she was quite sure that neither Frank nor Loren had come in contact with anything that might be harmful or could be transferred to Alexandra, and she wanted to lessen Loren's anxiety about Alexandra's welfare, but just dismissing out of hand a mother's fears for her baby could result in Loren becoming more mistrustful and more resistant to leaving Alexandra with anyone else, even for a few minutes. Quickly cataloguing and discarding what she might carry in her purse, she said to Loren, "Haven't you got sterile wipes in your diaper bag?"

"Oh..." Loren sighed in relief, "Yes, of course I have," and reached over behind the back seat to pull the bag within reach.

"You do know that you've almost certainly got nothing to worry about, don't you, dear?" Trish asked her.

"Yes... yes, of course, I'm just being a bit silly I expect," a relieved Loren answered as Alexandra latched on to her breast.

"Yes, dear, very probably," Trish smiled. Unlike a lot of women of her generation, Trish had no problem with the sight of women breast-feeding, and loved to see the look of contentment on the faces of those who were not ashamed or afraid to do so. It is a sad reflection on the society we have become, she mused, when we can watch on film and on television the most horrific scenes of bloodshed, violence and torture, yet our Puritan sensibilities are shocked when we see a young woman performing the most natural act of which mammals are capable, and for which they were evolved. Even Frank, and she smiled again at the thought, was mildly embarrassed, although he pretended that his escape from the immediate vicinity was solely to allow privacy to the nursing mother.

Loren deftly switched Alexandra from left to right, and smiled, she was getting quite good at that manoeuvre, she thought, little Sasha had barely time to register that she had been moved from one source to the other before she was again contentedly suckling. "Aah, that's it is it, darling? All finished now? Good, now upsy-daisy, there, big burps, again! Good girl."

"Give her to me Loren, while you get yourself put to rights and tidied up... there you are, Sasha, come to Grandma, darling, hush now hush...

_Hush a bye, don't you cry,  
>Go to sleep my little baby<br>When you wake  
>You'll have sweet cake<br>And all the pretty little ponies.._."

There you are, Loren," Trish whispered passing Alexandra back to a re-buttoned and tidied up Loren, "she's fast asleep now... until she wakes up again."

Loren smiled her thanks, and gently laid Alexandra back in her car seat and made sure she was buckled in securely before tapping on the window to let Frank know that she had finished.

Frank got back behind the driver's wheel and blew on his hands. "When you consider that Virginny was part of the Confederacy, and that the Confederacy was supposed to consist of the southern states, you'd think it would be a damn' sight warmer here in May than it is!"

Loren chuckled at his complaint. "Well you didn't have to get out of the car, you know. We're all family here - or so you keep telling me - and is... No, never mind that! Yes, it is a bit colder than usual for the time of year Frank, but you should try a brisk north or nor-easter in Berlin!"

"I didn't know you'd been to Germany, Loren," Trish said in surprise, "I don't know why, but I had the feeling that the first time you left the States was when you were deployed to the _Seahawk_."

"Oh, no, that's Berlin, Ohio, Trish."

"Is that were you're from?" Trish wanted to know.

Feeling that she might be giving away too much, Loren merely said, "Yes", and diverted her attention to Alexandra and pretended to be checking her seat straps. Trish, alive with curiosity, missed the clue and turning to Loren was about to ask more questions, when Frank, who had observed Loren's by-play in his driver's mirror, laid his hand on Trish's thigh to attract her attention and mouthed "No"

The drive out to Fairfax to inspect the last house on the day's list took only about fifteen minutes, although it took a few minutes more to find the address. The house looked well enough, although Loren said, "It's another one of those places that hasn't got a porch."

"Is a porch so important to you, Loren?"

"Yes, Frank, not so much just because it's a porch, but because it gives a sense of separation from street level, a kind of privacy barrier, that says, out there is everybody's, beyond here, this is ours."

Frank nodded his appreciation of Loren's view, and said musingly, "I suppose we don't miss that where we live. We are so heavily influenced by Latino architecture that our houses tend to look inwards, just look at our sun-deck and pool... Is the lack of a porch an immediate _veto_, or do you want to look around?"

"We'd better get out, I suppose, it looks like we have someone waiting for us."

"Oh, Loren," Trish interposed, as Loren bent towards the car seat, "baby Alexandra's still sleeping, you go on, I'll stay and watch her for you."

Loren looked at Trish for a long moment, and then responding to Trish's gentle, encouraging smile, she grinned back and leaving Alexandra in the seat, but again with a backwards look, joined Frank as he began to walk up the path towards the waiting realtor.

"Good afternoon, Mrs and Mrs Burnett, isn't it? Hi, I'm Gerry Mainwaring," the smartly dressed young man greeted them. He seemed professionally pleasant, but his eyes darted back and forth between Frank and Loren as if trying to work out the age difference between them and their exact relationship. From the way his eyes travelled over Loren from toe to head, it was fairly obvious that the conclusions at which he was arriving were not complimentary, and that he was mentally undressing her.

Frank recognised the signs, and ignoring the offered hand, contented himself with saying, "I'm Burnett, this is my daughter-in-Law Ms Singer. Let's see the house please."

Loren who had been distracted by looking at the house, had missed Mainwaring's scrutiny, but detecting what seemed to be a note of hostility in Frank's voice looked at him in some surprise.

"Yes, of course, Mr Burnett, shall we start with the exterior?" a totally unabashed Mainwaring suggested, indicating a path way that led around the house to the left and across the front of the garage. Rounding the corner, Frank stopped and indicating the wooden stairs that led from the rear of the garage up to a landing in front of the entry door to the apartment above it, he asked Loren, "What d'you think? Could you manage those with a baby carriage and a load of groceries?"

Loren looked at the open stairs which lacked risers, and said doubtfully, "I'm not sure, but it would be awful easy for a toddler to fall through those gaps."

"True, but everything else being equal, it wouldn't be a long job to cover them over with more timber. We'd have to put in a fence and a gate from the corner of the garage to the hedge line though to close off the yard, as well."

The house opened for them, Loren made a thorough inspection. Three bedrooms shared the second floor with two bathrooms, one of them en suite with one of the larger bedrooms, plus an internal door leading to the over-garage apartment. There were a further two rooms, plus a shower room on the third floor, which Loren thought could be either bedrooms or even play rooms or studies. The first floor had an ample lounge, a dining room and a kitchen with a separate utility room and a flight of stairs leading down to a cellar with one large room flanked by two smaller ones and which allowed daylight to enter through four ground level windows in the outside walls of the house.

A similar inspection of the apartment showed it to have two bedrooms and a bathroom all leading off the main kitchen and lounge area. It was smaller than Loren's present apartment, but it had the advantages of being connected to the main house and having access to the easily secured back yard.

As she finished her walk through, she turned to Frank and said, "Well, I think it's a definite possible. What do you say?"

"H'mm you may be right; I've got a question to ask or two to ask this young man here, Loren; why don't you go on ahead and get settled? I'll catch up with you in a minute."

Loren still puzzled by the neutral tone of Frank's voice, although he had tried to mask it, gave him a worried frown, but then smiled and said, "Sure, but don't keep us waiting too long, I've a feeling that Alexandra is going to need attention very shortly!"

Frank waited until she was out of earshot and then turning to Mainwaring said in a low, even voice, "We won't be buying this house. Your leering at my daughter-in-law has just cost you the sale, and if you were in my employ, it would also cost you your job - and it might still do so once I have spoken to your supervisor!" He turned on his heel and still bristling with anger at the insult paid to Loren stalked back to the car.

Trish, who was watching him as he walked across the front yard, said quietly, "Oh, dear, I think that young man must have said something, I haven't seen Frank so vexed since... since... I don't know when!"

Loren craned her neck to see around the door pillar to get a clear view of Frank and said, "He looks alright to me."

"Ah, you don't know him as well as I do, dear!" replied Trish.

To Loren's eyes Frank looked the same as he usually did when he got back into the car, but Trish could see the warning signs in the whiteness around his nostrils and the tightness of his lips. However, no matter how angry Frank might have been, he was mindful of his passengers' safety and well being and drove smoothly and steadily east along the I-66 back towards DC, contrasting their smooth journey with the nose-to-tail crawl heading westwards his face soon lost its pinched expression, "That's an added advantage." he chuckled after ten minutes driving, "at this time of the afternoon, we're driving into DC while the whole world and his wife is trying to get out! You know Loren, that might be worth thinking about when you finally decide where you want to live."

Loren laughed, "Frank, we're so used to Washington traffic, that I don't believe we've even given that a thought! But you're right; it is something we should think about."

It took just the half-hour to drive from Fairfax back into DC, but Loren applying the reverse of Frank's logic, knew that the same journey undertaken at peak travel time could easily take twice as long.

Drawing to a halt outside the hotel Frank unloaded the diaper bag while Trish helped Loren unfasten Alexandra from her seat, becoming aware in the process that she was now in need of some of the contents of Frank's burden.

Taking advantage of Trish's disappearance with Loren to attend to the badly-needed diaper change, Frank wandered away to the hotel bar where he rewarded himself for his day's efforts with a modicum of eighteen year-old single malt whisky.

Trish and Loren were in the baby changing facility attached to the women's room and engaged in cleaning, soothing and generally making a fuss of Alexandra, when Loren paused and turned to Trish, saying, "Thank you for today, Trish."

Trish looked at her in astonishment, "Whatever do you mean, Loren?"

"What you said, earlier, about cuddling your granddaughter, you don't have to say that you know. I mean, it's very sweet and very kind of you, but she isn't really related to you, is she?"

Trish finished replacing the last few items in the diaper bag while Loren finished redressing Alexandra, and then said, "Loren, is this your way of saying I'm crowding you?"

"Oh, no..., no, not at all, but I'm so conscious of all you've done for us both, and I can't think why you should, when..." her voice died away and she looked at Trish with stricken eyes, as she realised what she had so nearly given away.

Trish drew a deep breath and putting to one side the realisation that Loren's question had something to do with her undisclosed past, said, "Loren, Alexandra is my only son's niece. Apart from the children that Jennifer will give him, if the good Lord allows, your daughter will be the only blood relation he will have once Grams Sarah and I have gone. If she is blood relative to my son, how can she not be a part of my family? And Loren, if she is part of my family, how can you, her mother, not be a part of it too? You are both especially precious to me because you are such an unexpected addition to our number, and always remember, dear, that unlike those who are born into our family, we _chose_ to love you and we _choose_ to keep right on loving you."


	21. Upstairs and Downstairs

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 21  
>Upstairs and Downstairs<strong>

Loren Singer was getting used to being woken up in the small hours to attend to her baby's needs, but that didn't make the tiredness any easier to cope with. Alexandra had been restless this past night, she had woken demanding to be fed at just before two and not long after four o'clock, and in between times she had woken, loud in her demands to be changed. Now at just before six o'clock she had again started to cry.

Wearily Loren pulled herself out of bed, lifting her daughter from the crib, she offered a breast, hoping that she had somehow managed to produce enough milk during the past two hours to satisfy her baby's demands. It seems that she had, at any rate when Alexandra stopped suckling, she hadn't cried until she'd needed changing. During that twenty minute period Loren had showered and dressed, and after seeing to Alexandra's needs she pulled her hair back into a pony-tail and carrying her daughter's carry-crib in one hand and the replenished diaper bag over her other shoulder, she made her way down to the hotel restaurant to meet with Frank and Trish for breakfast.

Trish and Frank were waiting for her at the breakfast table looked up and as she approached, both noticed that she looked a little pale and saw the bruises under her eyes. "Somebody been keeping you awake all night?" Frank asked concernedly.

Loren half-smiled and said, "Yes, although I don't think we can really blame her too much. She slept most of yesterday while we were driving, and I don't think she was tired enough after that to sleep for very long. And I don't mind that, but she seems to mind very much if when she's awake, her mommy isn't too!"

Trish smiled in sympathy both with Loren's whimsy and with her obvious fatigue, but for the moment said nothing. However, after breakfast while refining last night's preliminary choices and busy with route-map, pencil and the local papers' property sections, Trish suggested, "Look, we had a long day of it yesterday, we've got plenty of time left during the week; why don't we limit ourselves to the three most likely properties each day? We're not going to miss much; ninety per cent of today's listings are the same as yesterday's and the weekends. If spending less time driving around means that Alexandra stays awake longer during the day, then I say we should tackle the situation that way!"

Loren wasn't totally convinced by Trish's logic, but if it somehow led to her getting even one extra hour of sleep she could definitely go along with the idea. Grasping pencil in hand she set about ruthlessly eliminating every property in the supplement that looked as if it might even possibly not be ideal, pausing only the once to retreat to the women's room to feed and with Trish's help to change Alexandra's diapers.

The good natured wrangling over which three properties should be inspected and the 'phone calls to the Realtors' office led to the three of them not loading Alexandra and all her ancillaries into Frank's rental until nearly eleven o'clock. Fortunately the plan for the day was simple, take the Beltway anti-clockwise to Vienna, then to Tyson's corner and finally down to West Springfield before heading back to DC via Alexandria.

It took half an hour to drive to Vienna around the George Washington Memorial Parkway to the Tyson's Corner off-ramp and then on to the small town itself, but by the time Frank had driven across the Francis Scott Key Bridge he had already tapped Trish on the knee and with a jerk of his head indicated the rear seat. Twisting around to look, Trish saw that both Loren and Alexandra, lulled by the motion of the car, were asleep. Shaking her head and smiling she looked across at Frank and saw the he too had the same indulgent smile on his face.

Mother and baby stayed peacefully asleep until Frank pulled up outside the address he'd been given when he'd called the real estate office number given in the property advert. He looked back at Loren and whispered, hoping not to wake Alexandra, "Loren, wake up honey, we're here."

"M'mmm," was all the answer he got as Loren snuggled down further against the seat and wrapped her arms tighter around herself.

"Frank, you know what they're looking for," whispered Trish, "why don't you go on ahead, and if it's worth it, then we can wake Loren up. For the moment, just let her sleep."

Frank nodded his agreement and climbed out of the car, careful to just close the door to without letting it slam shut and without even engaging the lock. With a flipped salute to Trish, he opened the gate in the picket fence and walked up the path between two rows of flower beds that flanked the lawn on each side. The house was a sort of neo-colonial style he supposed. There was the porch on which Loren set such great store. The garage off to the right as he looked at the house had room for two cars and space on the drive in front of it for another four. The realtor waiting for him was a thin woman in her forties with a mop of untamed red-hair and a mouth set in firm lines of seeming disapproval of the world, the house, and especially it seemed of him.

To his surprise rather than letting herself in with as key she rapped sharply on the door, saying as she did so "The current owners are still in residence."

After what seemed an age, the door was opened by a man that seemed to be about fifteen to twenty years old than Frank, who squinted at the realtor and grumbled, "So, _you're_ here now, are you? Well, you'd better come on in."

The realtor ignored the older man as she fussily led Frank around the ground floor living space, explaining, as if they weren't obvious, the salient features of the kitchen, the utility room the separate dining room and the living room. The basement she assured Frank, consisted of one large and one small room, and were well lit and well ventilated, but made no attempt to take him down the flight of stairs that she indicated was concealed by a door under the stairs in the entry hall. Before he had time to say that he would like to inspect the basement, she was three quarters of the way up the stairs to the second floor and looking down at him with a look of impatient exasperation on her face. With her strange attitude and the way she was ignoring the homeowner who seemed only to be a tag-along, Frank was beginning to wonder if she actually wanted to sell the house or not.

The second floor held no surprises for house of this age and size. There were four bedrooms, two large and two small and one bathroom. Just about adequate, he judged, but nothing that really made the place a stand-out. "The description mentioned a separate apartment?" he hinted.

"Well, yes, but it's only really meant for weekend visitors," he was told. "We'll need to go round to the side of the garage to get there."

The 'separate apartment' when seen from back yard appeared to be little more than a timber frame and tar-paper roofed shack perched precariously on top of the garage's flat roof and set so far back from the front of the garage that it was not visible from the front of the house. Climbing the stairs and opening the door, it was apparent that the only recent occupants had been the birds who had left ample evidence by means of their droppings. The apartment consisted of a combined kitchen living and dining area, a bedroom just about large enough for the standard sized double-bed and a shower stall and toilet cubicle divided off from the main room by a stud wall with a just a curtain to give the illusion of privacy. Frank sniffed, it might very well do for a teenager staying over for a weekend, it was not good enough for a young mother with an infant and certainly nowhere near acceptable for Loren and Alexandra!

"Well," he said after looking around the squalor of the apartment, "thank you for your time, but this really isn't what we've been looking for."

The realtor lady definitely looked annoyed, but Frank thought he'd heard a muffled, "Good!" from the old man who had been shuffling around behind them. It was the first word he had said since he had grudgingly allowed them into his home, and Frank had already picked up a definite vibe that he wasn't welcome here.

With something very close to a shudder of relief he left the house behind convinced that there was something not terribly right about the situation. But there was nothing he could put his finger on, and nothing he could report to whom? The police? Social services? They'd laugh him out of their offices. But still...

Returning to the car he slid back behind the wheel and looking a Trish he pulled a face of disapproval and shook his head. Then turning to glance back at Loren, he smiled fondly. Mother and daughter were both soundly asleep. He turned back towards Trish and said, "It's a very pretty picture, but should we let them sleep so much? If Alexandra sleeps all day, she's not going to sleep tonight, and Loren is going to be exhausted tomorrow!"

Trish nodded agreement, but argued, "Yes, it's difficult, but sleep's hard to come by with a baby in the house. The golden rule is that when the baby sleeps, mommy does too. But we'll see how it goes. Let's leave them until we get to the next place. Where is it? "

Frank consulted the list and the road map, "Back the way we came, almost to the Beltway. Still in Vienna, near Tyson's Corner, we need to find... ah, yeah, there, Woodford Road." He looked at the map scale and said, "About two and a half miles, say maybe five, six minutes. Here you navigate, and try not to get us lost this time!"

"Frank! That was one time," she protested laughingly, "years ago up near San Francisco! And you've never let me forget it!"

Frank just grinned unrepentantly at his wife, who sent him a mock-pout in return.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The house on Woodford road was set back maybe fifty or sixty feet from the street and had a palisade fence flanking both sides, indicating that it did have the necessary enclosed back yard. It had Loren's requisite porch and although a fairly recent design the red bricks looked mellowed, as if the place had been built from re-cycled materials, and the paintwork looked fresh. There were three floors worth of windows, although the top-most floor had dormer windows, suggesting that the loft was in use for something other than storage. The grassed area in front of the house was well manicured and the double garage had sufficient gravelled space in front for another two cars, at least.

Trish and Frank sat looking at the house for a good five minutes, taking in the quietness of the street, the distance between the houses, and Frank particularly the make and model and year of the various cars that were parked outside the houses. There was nothing extravagant, Camaros, Equinox, Prius, and Accords to name a few. All good, solid, mid-range choices. Their own unspoken decision made, Trish twisted around in her seat and stretching back, shook Loren's knee, saying quietly, "Wake up, Loren, we think you need to see this one. C'mon child, get with the programme, please."

Loren slowly swam up towards wakefulness, and shivering as her body reacted to its sleep-lowered temperature, she said, "Huh?"

Trish smiled in sympathy, although it had been so many years ago, she still remembered vividly snatching the odd hour or two of sleep as and when she could when Harm was a baby. "Here, use one of these," she offered a packet of wet wipes to Loren, "it'll make you feel better."

The cool, lemon scented wipe did make Loren feel better, and once she had woken properly, she smiled her thanks to Trish and automatically turned to check on Alexandra. Her baby was sleeping peacefully, and was so beautiful that Loren felt a catch in her throat as her vision misted over. Slightly embarrassed by her own emotions she turned back to face Trish and Frank and could only shrug helplessly. Trish saw and recognised Loren's feelings and said, "Yes, they do tug at our heartstrings, and you'll have many, many more moments just like this one. You store them up and keep them safe, and they'll always be there for you to keep you warm when you need them."

Loren half-smiled mistily and answered, "I don't know what's got into me! I never used to be such a watering pot."

Trish knew exactly what had got into the younger woman, but copying Uncle Remus' tar-baby, she just lay low and said nothing.

Waiting another minute or so for Loren to finish getting herself together, Frank opened the rear passenger door for her and gave her his hand to help her out. Turning to Trish he asked, "Are you joining us for this walk round?"

"No, I think I'll just sit here and let Alexandra keep me company." By letting Loren think that Trish had assumed that staying with Loren in the car was now normal practice, Trish hoped that it would now become just that.

For a moment Trish thought she had miscalculated until Loren relaxed and with a soft 'Bye-bye, baby," turned to Frank and added "Well, then Mr Burnett, shall we?"

"Of course, Ms Singer," he replied and crooked an elbow for her to take hold of.

They were met at the front door by a very young woman, no more than eighteen or nineteen years old, Frank estimated, who came forward with a sunny smile, and said with a faint Virginia accent, "Hi, Mr and Mrs Burnett? I'm Catherine Graves of Graves' Real Estate," she laughed cheerfully at Loren's expression, it was one she'd come to half-expect; an expression that clearly said, that she was far too young to be a realtor. "It's OK," she said reassuringly, "I don't own the company; I'm just working for my daddy for the summer!"

Frank warmed to her, she seemed so full of life and enthusiasm and such a contrast with the acerbic woman they had just left, "Good morning, yes, I'm Burnett, this is my daughter-in-law, Ms Singer."

"Ma'am, pleased to meet you, and you too, sir. Now if you-all would just like to come along with me...?" Opening the door she stood aside to let them enter the house first. The entry hall which extended to the full height of the first two floors was square with a two stage stairway zig-zagging up against the rear wall under an ox-eye window, and with four doors leading off into other ground-floor rooms.

Catherine Graves led them into the front right-hand room, which lit by the large window proved to have more than enough space to be used, as she had introduced it, as a family room, the focal point of which in the rear wall was large open fire-place beside which was a connecting door to the room to the rear of the building. "The fireplace shares its chimney with the room behind this one, which the last owner used as his study, it's complete with 'phone sockets and DSL points, and as you can see, it's still lined with bookshelves. The door in the far corner leads to the rear entry hall." She opened that door to show a half-glass door to the back yard, which again was mostly a close-cropped lawn, but bordered on three sides with flower-beds now bursting into a riot of colour as buds bloomed into flowers.

Crossing the hall, Catherine continued, "Through here, is the kitchen and beyond that the utility room, the kitchen connects, through this door, to the dining room, which if you've gotten yourselves turned around, leads out into the lobby again, and that's the living room again, dead ahead." Continuing in her lively fashion Catherine led the pair of them upstairs to the second floor, showing them in turn each of the four bedrooms and the two bathrooms, and then finally to the third floor where she explained there were a further two bedrooms and a rumpus room. While Frank was examining the construction of the rooms, Catherine turned to Loren and asked very quietly and with a tinge pink in her cheeks, "Excuse me, ma'am, for being personal, but are you nursing?"

Loren looked at the girl in surprise, and was about to tell her that it was none of her damned business, when Catherine continued, "It's just that I thought you ought to know," and casting a sidelong look at Frank whispered, "that you're... er... leaking, ma'am.

Loren who had felt the beginnings of an ache in her breasts glanced down and saw that there was a spreading stain on her shirt, and nodding her acknowledgement, if not her thanks, to the realtor, buttoned her jacket in order to hide the tell-tale mark.

Leading the prospective clients back downstairs Catherine Graves asked, "Did you want to see the guest rooms?"

Frank and Loren exchanged a significant look. Guest rooms, not just a guest room. Loren's already favourable impression of the property was increased, and more so when Catherine led them out into the back yard and round to the rear of the garage where a masonry-built flight of stairs led up to the garage roof. The guest rooms only covered three quarters of the available space, leaving a patio surrounded by a knee high wall in front of a two floor maisonette built over the garage. Catherine unlocked the door and again stood aside to allow them their first sight of the interior. The kitchen towards the rear of the apartment (but towards the front of the house) was separated from the remainder of the first floor by a wall pierced by an arch that extended across fully half the width of the apartment. The second floor had three bedrooms, one double and two single plus a shower and bathroom. Everything appeared to be in sound condition, and the standard of decoration was also high. Frank and Loren looked at each other, and Loren said, "This one has got to be seen by Harm and Jen!"

"Yes, it must." Frank agreed with her and then "Miss Graves, we would like to have a second viewing, tomorrow if possible - Harm and Jen did say they would be back tonight, didn't they Loren?" Loren nodded. "Yes, then tomorrow please, Miss Graves, at eleven o'clock, say?"

Catherine Graves, smiled and made a note in her file, but then said, "If you are still not quite decided, and unless you're determined to buy in the Vienna area, might I ask where you work?" She said this as she looked from Frank to Loren, undecided for whom the property was being sought.

Frank smiled, recognising from his own salesman days the lead-in to the 'switch' selling technique, said, "No, I'm not local, just visiting, but Ms Singer works in Falls Church."

"Ah, OK, that's not all that far to commute. But..."

"Yes?" Frank prompted encouragingly.

"Well, it's only about eight miles, but the traffic along the I-50 and the Custiss Memorial is real bad both morning and afternoon peaks, and there are so many people using the local streets as rat-runs that it can take over an hour to get to Falls Church from here. Now, unless you're bound and determined to live outside the Beltway, we've got another property pretty much the same as this, except that the guest rooms are a ranch-house cum bunk house kind of thing at the end of the back yard. It's just on the edge of Falls Church, and it's going for a snip." She scribbled a figure on a page she tore from her file and handed it to Frank, who raised his eyebrows and passed it to Loren.

Frank his suspicions raised by the low figure asked, "What's the catch? Why so cheap?"

"It's owned, no it was owned, by a retired navy officer and his wife. But he died about two weeks ago, and his widow just wants to sell out and move down south as quickly as she can. We haven't published its details yet, we were going to wait for the weekend issue to update all our holdings."

Loren asked her, "What was the officer's name?"

"Oh, let me see... yes, an Admiral Brovo." And at Loren's sharp intake of breath, she asked "Did you know him?"

"No, I didn't know, him but I knew of him, he was our last JAG before..."

"Excuse me, ma'am, but are you navy?" Catherine asked, unable to hide the excitement in her voice.

"Yes... I'm.."

"So am I ma'am! Or I will be, I start NROTC at UCLA in the fall." She grimaced, "I didn't make it to Annapolis."

Loren couldn't help smiling at the girl's obvious mingling of disappointment and keenness.

"Well, I didn't go to the academy, either, I went NROTC at Boston. Not getting to Annapolis doesn't make you a second-class citizen." Loren encouraged her.

"Yes, ma'am, and thank you! That's made me feel a bit better, I guess. Now, if you want to check out the other place, here's the address."

Frank extended a hand to the young would-be naval officer, "Miss Graves, thank you for your help today. We'll certainly take the place at Falls Church into consideration, and we'll see you again, tomorrow at eleven?"

"Yes, sir, Mr Burnett, eleven o'clock it is!"

The walk back to the car was accompanied by Loren listing all the good points that she had found in and around the house, from the enclosed back yard to the way the guest apartment had been built, like a little house, on the garage roof. Her praises were cut short however, when they reached the car by the sound of an impatiently hungry Alexandra demanding her lunch. Trish was gently jogging Alexandra up and down in her arms, but to little effect.

Loren retrieved her daughter from a grateful Trish, and with an apologetic smile at Frank almost dived into the back seat of the car, unbuttoning jacket and shirt as she did so. Truth to tell, she was glad that Alexandra was hungry, apart from the embarrassment of visibly sporting a damp patch on her shirt, she needed the relief of Alexandra draining some of the milk she had produced during the last three hours.

Frank, as was his habit has leaning against the side window of the car on the sidewalk side, blocking the view of any passing pedestrians and her back was towards the street side their respective positions, when adding Trish's presence in the front passenger seat, guaranteeing almost complete privacy.

After a quick change from left to right a finally replete Alexandra relinquished the nipple and almost rubbing her eyes with the back of her right hand - Loren smiled at the conceit, there was no way that even her brilliant daughter's hand co-ordination was up to that yet - burped gently, prompting Loren to raise her to a vertical position and gently rub her back, helping her to bring up the rest of the wind she'd ingested together with her lunch. Loren was still halfway through that process when it was borne upon her olfactory nerves that her darling daughter was... er... slightly less than fragrant. And from the look on Trish's face she too was aware of what was happening in the vicinity of Alexandra's nether regions.

Sighing, Loren climbed out of the car and opened the rear luggage hatch, where laying the changing mat out on the flat cargo bed, she reached for the diaper bag, while Trish stood by holding the now-uncomfortable and grizzling Alexandra.

At length, good order and discipline, so Loren fondly chided her baby, restored and the diaper bag re-packed, Frank who had checked the route on the road map, started the engine and headed south-east towards the address given to him by Catherine Graves.

Loren was a little concerned by the amount of traffic on the road suggested by the street address, it was one of the major access roads from Springfield and Annandale into the centre of Falls Church, but the situation of the house was belied by the address. It stood at the end of its own little dead-end street, about fifty yards off the main highway and screened from its noise and fumes by a line of American Hornbeam trees. The house itself was age-mellowed red bricks and in overall appearance was very similar to the last one they had visited, which Loren reflected, was no real surprise, as they had been using almost the same criteria throughout their search. The one noticeable and immediately visible difference was that the main part of the house extended over the garage.

Frank looked at her and asked, "Well?"

"I've got a good feeling about this one," she admitted, "give that real estate girl a call, and tell her we'd like a show-round tomorrow. Ask if she can do this one at eleven, and then if need be we can go back and look at that last place in Vienna." Somewhere during that last sentence, she had stopped asking and had directed.

Frank hearing the change, not so much of tone, but in delivery smiled, Loren had almost for the first time he had met her, sounded like a naval officer. "Yes, ma'am!" he rapped out, accompanying his words with a mock-salute,

Loren glared at him for a few seconds, before she realised what she had just said and how she had said it, and then giggled, "I guess I was being kind of bossy!"

"Not bossy, dear," a hugely grinning and appreciative Trish interposed, "authoritative!"

"Oh! Not fair! complained Frank, "Trish, I do not need you giving Loren any encouragement!"

"Maybe not," gurgled Loren, "but, oh, I do!"

Frank, despite his grumbles was grinning as widely as either of his two adult passengers and begrudged them not an instant of their poking fun at him. Turning to Loren, he asked, "Can you get us back on the DC road from here, or do I need to get the map out?"

Loren thought for a moment and then said, "Yes, just carry on in the direction we're facing and that will bring us on to Arlington Boulevard, and then its straight on right in to DC. You can't miss it!"

Frank cast a skeptical glance her way; he'd heard that guarantee far too many times to take it at face value, but this time Loren proved correct and the end of a twenty-some minutes' drive saw their rental car pull up outside the Hilton Garden Inn.

Loren unloaded Alexandra from the car seat while Frank, just as he had done the previous day, carted in the diaper bag while Trish played the role of secretary gathering up maps, real estate brochures, pencils, markers and cell phones, as they made their way by unspoken consensus to the lobby corner table which they had all come to consider somehow as 'their table'. As Trish and Loren made themselves comfortable, Frank deposited the diaper bag next to Loren's chair and said, "Has anybody thought about lunch?"

The matching blank looks bestowed upon him were sufficient answer, so sighing, he suggested, "Tea and/or coffee all round and a selection of sandwiches?"

The heads nodded in unison and Frank strolled off to place their order.

The order placed, Frank picked up the card Catherine Graves had given him and dialled her personal number which she had scrawled on the back of it.

Much later with lunch just a distant memory and dinner well on its way to join it, Frank picked up his cell phone from the dressing table in the suite he shared with Trish.

"Burnett... Oh, hi, Harm, how was Grams... good. How's Jen... Oh... He did what... And you did...? No, I suppose not, but, all the same... uh-huh, is it anything Trish or I can help with? No? OK, well you tell her that _we_ love her, and we'll see her tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow, we've got two houses to see, one in Vienna and the other, believe it or not in Falls Church. You'll understand when you see them. Look, meet us here tomorrow at ten o'clock, we've got an appointment with the realtor in Falls Church at eleven. Yes, I know it won't take an hour to get there, but you've still got one or two important life lessons to learn... Like what? Like learning how long it takes to load two women and a baby plus all their bits and pieces into a car! Yes, and let's hope we can put a smile back on Jen's face. OK, Harm, goodnight... Yes, you too, goodnight, son."

Trish looked up from the dressing table, where she was smoothing her overnight moisturiser into her neck and face, "Something the matter, Frank?"

"Yes, Jen's father being rather unpleasant, and she's a bit upset" he said with masterly understatement, "Harm was a bit sketchy on the details, but they're coming to meet us tomorrow, and we'll get the full story then, and maybe even cheer her up a little."

Trish, not in the slightest fooled by his air of nonchalance gave him a shrewd look, and noticing the pinched look around his mouth and the whites around his nostrils knew full well that whatever Harm might have told her husband, he wasn't telling her the whole story.


	22. In My Father's House

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 22  
>In My Father's House<strong>

Jen was still crying, silent tears pouring down her face, when Harm stopped the 'vette outside the converted warehouse. He looked at her in dismay, feeling totally inadequate to deal with this. His attempts to console her on the hour and a half drive from Hagerstown had failed miserably. She hadn't answered any of his comments, remarks or questions; she had just sat there huddled in misery. Even now, she made no attempt to get out of the car. Harm walked around to her side of the car and opened the door. Jen still made no attempt to move, and Harm squatted by the side of the car observing her with concern etched on his face. It was as if she was oblivious to her surroundings, oblivious to him, her flooded eyes fixed somewhere off in the distance, while the tears ran down her cheeks.

Leaning across her body, he unclipped her seat belt, and very gently he placed his hand against her face and turned her head towards him. The physical contact seemed to have brought her back to sense of her surroundings and she raised her eyes to meet his.

"Jen, sweetheart, come on, you can't sit here all night. Please?"

Nodding numbly, she let him help her out of the car and with his arm around her waist guide her into the building. Once in their apartment, he helped her off with her jacket and hung it on the peg behind the door. Once he had sat her down on the battered old couch, he prepared to brew a pot of tea, and whilst the kettle was boiling he returned to the car to retrieve their bags and the dish of apple crisp that had previously seemed so important, and while he was safely out of Jen's hearing to call Frank and let him and Trish know they had made it safe, if not entirely, sound back from Belleville.

"_Burnett..."_

"Hey Frank, it's Harm, just to let you and Trish know that we're back from Grams's."

"_Oh, hi, Harm, how was Grams..._ ?"

"She's great, she looks fit and healthy, a bit slower on her feet than she used be perhaps, but Grams is… Grams, she sends you both her love, of course."

"_Good. How's Jen..._ ?

"Not, so good, Frank, we called on her dad on the way home, to let him know that we were married, and he wasn't very… polite, or ….or… And then he got mean."

"_Oh..._ "

"Yeah, accused her of trapping me into marriage, called her a tramp among other things, said she was no better than a dockside whore."

"_He did what..._?"

"Called her a whore, and me a fool for marrying her."

"_And you did..._?"

"Nothing. What could I do? He's older than I am and much smaller and weaker. Even if he'd been physically bigger, how could I start a brawl with Jen standing there? It just wasn't a…."

"_No, I suppose not, but, all the same..._ "

"Frank, you didn't see her, I've never seen Jen like that, she hasn't stopped crying yet."

"_Uh-huh, is it anything Trish or I can help with_?"

"No, I don't think so,"

_"No? OK, well you tell her that __**we**__ love her, and we'll see her tomorrow_."

"Tomorrow, Frank?"

"_Yes, tomorrow, we've got two houses to see, one in Vienna and the other, believe it or not in Falls Church. You'll understand when you see them. Look, meet us here tomorrow at ten o'clock, we've got an appointment with the realtor in Falls Church at eleven._"

"You want us there an hour before the RV? It won't take half that time to get from DC to Falls Church at that time of day!"

"_Yes, I know it won't take an hour to get there, but you've still got one or two important life lessons to learn_!"

"Yeah? like what?"

"_Like what? Like learning how long it takes to load two women and a baby plus all their bits and pieces into a car_!"

"What? you mean it's going to be like getting them onto the 'plane on time, all over again?"

"_Yes. And let's hope we can put a smile back on Jen's face. OK, Harm, goodnight_."

"Goodnight Frank, tell mom I love her… and you too."

"_Yes, you too, goodnight, son_."

Returning to the apartment, Harm found the kettle had boiled, but Jen was nowhere in sight. He swiftly crossed to the bedroom, where in the glow of the street lights he could just make out the shape of her body curled up under the bedding with the coverlet pulled well up over her shoulders. Abandoning bags and the idea of a cup of tea, he returned to the living room for just long enough to secure the door and turn of the lights before making his way back to the bedroom, where stripping down to T-shirt and shorts he climbed into bed to be with his wife.

She was lying on her side, curled into the foetal position with her back to him. He scooted across the bed until he was in full body contact with her, her back to his chest and his kneecaps pressed against the back of her knees and his upper arm around her waist, with his hand resting lightly against her stomach. He could not only feel her shivering with misery, but the touch of his bare skin against hers betrayed that she was physically cold. With growing anger he realised that the coarse, crude and mean-spirited insults from her father had sent her into a condition very like physical shock.

Feeling helpless in the face of Jen's distress, he could only brush some strands of hair off her face to behind her ear, and whisper, "Oh, baby, I'm so, so sorry..."

To his surprise she wrenched free of his embrace and rolled over to face him, her face twisted with anger, "Don't!" she screamed hoarsely, "Dont you dare...!" and balling her hands into fists she struck out wildly at him, catching him with several ill-aimed and ineffectual blows to the head, chest and shoulders.

Trying not to hurt her, he had to make three or four attempts before he could capture her wrists in his hand, and then imprisoning them with one hand against his chest, he pulled her into a close embrace with his arm hugged tightly around her shoulders. Staggered by the violence of her reaction, he could only repeat soothing platitudes while she struggled to free herself from his hold, until after what seemed an age, she stopped struggling and the tension went out of her body, as she finally started sobbing and buried her face in the junction of his neck and shoulder. He was still lying awake when her sobs faded into silence as the increasing greyness of dawn lightened the night sky.

Although her body temperature had risen and she seemed to have come out her state of shock, Harm was reluctant to leave the now sleeping Jen until he was quite certain that neither she nor the baby had suffered any injury, but his own body's needs soon forced him to slide quietly out of bed and into the bathroom. Once he was on his feet he decided he would get himself ready for the day before waking Jen.

It was nearly an hour later before he was ready to take her a mug of tea. He had debated whether to give her Grams' present, but had decided to wait to see what her emotional state was, before handing it to her, preferring that she should be in a mood to appreciate its beauty and significance rather than perhaps seeing it as a bribe to 'snap her out' of an unhappy state.

Handing Jen her tea, he tentatively asked how she was feeling. Turning her tear-stained face towards him, her red-rimmed eyes still reflected deep unhappiness, "Why did he say those things, Harm? Does he really despise me that much?"

He sighed and twisting around on the bed until he was sitting next to her, he laid a gentle arm across her shoulder, and taking the mug from her hands placed it on the nightstand before drawing her in so that her face rested against his chest. "I don't know Jen... I've never known what happened between you and your dad... and if you can't tell me, that's OK; I don't want to hear anything you don't want to tell me. And I don't care what you did, or who you were before you were the you I fell in love with. I am sorry that I even suggested we call on your dad and let him know..."

She interrupted him by lifting her hand and laying a fingertip against his lips, "It's not your fault that he turned into a miserable, mean old man," she said, as her eyes started to brim with fresh tears.

"Oh, hush, baby, hush, now," he said as he gently rocked her back and forth, and he wondered how any man could treat his only child like that. To Harm, growing up with his own father MIA, fatherhood was a sacred duty and a life-long bond, and how any man, let alone a so-called Minister of God, could betray that duty and that bond was entirely beyond his ability to comprehend.

Jen sniffed, "Harm, I'm scared."

That surprised him. "Scared of what, honey?" he asked gently.

"I'm scared I'm going to be a bad mom, scared that I'll turn out to be just like him..."

"That is not going to happen!" he declared emphatically. Putting his hand on her shoulders, he gave a her a gentle shake and held her away from him for a few seconds as he repeated, "Not going to happen, Jen! Because the woman I fell in love with, and who agreed to be my wife, has a kind, gentle, and very, very loving heart and doesn't have a single mean bone in her body!"

Before he could pull her back into a full embrace, she looked up at him, "Promise me," she whispered, "promise me you'll never let me get to be like that!"

"Jen, you never will! It's not going to happen. You will never give our children any cause to do anything other than love you, their whole lives long!"

"No! Promise me, Harm!" It was no longer a question or a plea, it was a demand. It was something he realised, that she needed to hear. Now, he didn't care about his opinions, his views or even how he felt, all he cared about right at this moment was responding to his wife's need.

Holding her face between the palms of his hands, he looked straight into her fearful eyes and said quietly, but with immense weight behind every word, "I promise you, Jennifer Alison Rabb, that you will never, ever turn out to be as close-minded, mean-spirited, petty, hurtful, hateful and hate filled as your father!"

Jen allowed herself to be caught up in his arms again, receiving as much comfort from the solid warmth of his body as she had from his words. They stayed there, holding each other until Jen made a move away from him. Her voice was wavering and choked, but she managed nevertheless, to say, "Harm, I need to go to the bathroom... I think... I think, I'm going to hurl!"

Harm followed her into the bathroom and knelt beside her while he held her hair off her face and gently rubbed her back while she emptied what little stomach contents she had into the toilet. After she had finished, she leaned back against him, once more seeking comfort through physical contact, while he relished the feel of her body against his.

Not since Diane had he known so tactile a woman. Mac, Jordan, Renée, and to a lesser extent, Annie had tolerated his touch, Jennifer however was more inclined to seek it out, to initiate contact rather than to always leave the initiative to him. But hardly had he followed that train of thought, when she lifted his embracing arm and looked up at him, "It's no good, I've got..."

"Again?" he asked in surprise.

"No," she said, her voice a flat monotone, "I've got to take a shower and get dressed. Then we need to do some..."

"Ah, no. We don't."

"We don't what?"

"We don't need to do whatever it was you were about to say we needed to do!"

"Huh?" Somewhere in the middle of the sentence, he'd lost her. She looked at him blankly.

"What we need to do." he said, glancing at his watch "is for me to get you some breakfast, while you shower, and then once you've got that inside you, we need to get over to meet Frank, Trish and Loren. We've got two houses to see today!"

She looked at him, her sadness overlaid with reluctance, "Do we really have to? I don't think I can face anyone today... I'd really like just for us to stay at home..."

He hugged her again in sympathy, but said, "I don't think we can sailor. If was just you and me, I'd say the hell with, let's just stay at home and veg out. But every day that Trish and Frank are here, it's a day away from their own lives. I wouldn't mind betting that each day they've been here they've both been on the 'phone for hours each evening, talking to their people in California. They've been so good to us honey, that we owe it to them, to be there when they've made all the arrangements. Besides, it's going to be your home too, and we need your decision on whichever house we choose, whether it's either of these ones today, or someplace else."

Much as she just wanted to stay at home and brood, Jen's sense of duty drove her to her feet, and stripping off her T-shirt and underwear she turned on the shower and stepped behind the curtain. Harm, pausing only to pick up her discarded items of clothing, dropped them in to the laundry basket and made for the kitchen to prepare tea and toast for Jen's breakfast.

Jen drank half the mug of tea and took a couple of bites from her toast before pushing her plate away, complaining that she wasn't hungry. Harm looked at her anxiously; and although she didn't appear to have that pale, washed-out look that so often signalled the onset of nausea, he asked worriedly "Jen, are you still feeling queasy?"

Her voice was dull and lifeless as she answered, "No, I'm not going to hurl again. I hear what you say about Trish and Frank, so if we've got to go and look at these damn' houses, can we just go and get it over with, so we can get back here, please?"

Harm was rapidly coming to the conclusion that Jen was not really in a state to make much of a positive contribution to the day's decision making process, but he really couldn't square it with his conscience not to make the agreed meeting with Frank. Moreover he felt totally helpless in the face of Jen's dejection, he was worried for her health and for that of their baby and he hoped that Trish might be able to help in some way.

When he fetched her jacket from the peg, she stood passively while he helped her into it and then listlessly followed him down to the car. Her silence during the ten minute drive to the Hilton Garden Inn was of a totally different quality to the peaceful quiet they had shared all the way to Grams' house. Harm looked across at Jen, her head was turned away from him as she gazed without interest through the 'vette's side window, and although Harm knew logically that her pain wasn't his fault, for some illogical reason he felt guilty.

On arrival at the hotel, he coaxed Jen out of the car, and with his hand in the small of her back, he gently guided her in through the lobby, looking around for the rest of their party. Frank seeing their arrival stood up and waved to attract their attention and seeing Harm change direction towards them, he stepped forward to say good morning, but when he saw Jen, he stopped dead in his tracks. His abrupt cessation of movement, and the panicked look he shot over his shoulder was enough to bring Trish to her feet and moving quickly towards them.

As she closed the distance between them she took note of the dull, lifeless and unhappy expression on Jen's face and shot a murderous glance at her son. The helpless pain evident on his face instantly mitigated the anger she had unreasonably felt towards him, and moving to Jen's side she put her arm around her waist and led her away to the corner table.

Loren at first preoccupied with Alexandra. had rapidly seen that something out of the ordinary had happened, overheard Trish say to Jen, "What did he say you, darling, what's made you so, so unhappy?" and leapt to the wrong conclusion. Storming over to where Harm and Frank were beginning to discuss in worried tones the events of the last twelve hours, she turned on Harm with blazing eyes and hissed, "You bastard! You evil son-of-a-bitch! What the hell have you done to her?"

Harm was rendered speechless both by the unwarranted nature of the attack and by the venom with which Loren had spoken. Despite his courtroom-honed skills, he was left with his mouth helplessly and silently opening and shutting, and it was left to Frank, almost equally taken aback, to place his arm around Loren's shoulder and to protest, "Loren, Loren, sweetheart, Harm's not the guilty party. He didn't do this!"

Loren had shrugged his arm off and turned towards him, ready to vent her anger on him for defending the indefensible, when the sense of his words penetrated her rage. "He... he didn't?" she faltered.

"No," Frank inhaled deeply and blew out the excess air, "No, it was Jen's father, last night. He said some pretty unkind things to her."

Loren turned back Harm and rather shamefacedly muttered, "I'm sorry... it's just that when she said he'd said, I thought the he was you and..."

"It's OK, Loren, no apology required" a now somewhat recovered Harm reassured her. "In fact, I love it. You were so keen to jump in to help Jen. You have no idea how good that made me feel, to know she's got a friend like you."

Loren looked at him dubiously, she knew, if no-one else did, that she had been way out of line, jumping to conclusions without hearing the evidence and presuming guilt instead of presuming innocence until guilt was proven. Just like, she thought, just like... oh, no, she wasn't going there. That line of thought was still a little too painful! But it was exactly that sort of attitude that had damn nearly cost her a long term in prison as well as her career.

With a somewhat embarrassed smile, she murmured something inaudible and retreated to the refuge of the table and Trish and Jen's company. Harm looked after her for a few seconds and then turned to Frank and with a wry grin said, "I never knew until just now that you could have fire and ice together!"

Frank looked at him in surprise, "Pardon?" he asked.

"Loren," Harm explained, "or at least her eyes; they were blazing angry and at the same time they were almost arctic. It was a very strange sight and caused a very strange sensation! I've seen Loren in court a score of times, and she's got the potential to be a good, no, a very good lawyer, but if she could harness and direct the passion we've just seen she'll be a great lawyer!"

Frank looked at him and just said, "Do you think?" and just for once the question was devoid of any hint of sarcasm.

Loren had regained the sanctuary of the table, and saw to her dismay that fresh tears were running down Jen's face as Trish leaned towards her holding both her hands. Loren moved to sit on the arm of Jen's chair, and putting her arm around the younger woman pulled her into a hug until Jen's head was resting against the side of her breast. After what seemed an age Jen's tears dried up and the three women sat silently, Loren disengaged herself from Jen and lifted Alexandra out of the carry-crib and returned to kneel down next to Jen. "Jen," she said softly, ignoring Trish's startled look, "Sasha wants to give you a hug too."

Jen responded instinctively to take Alexandra from Loren's arms as the blonde woman offered her daughter to her. Trish and Loren both watched as Jen began to react to the sight, feel and smell of the baby she was holding. With the gentlest of touches, Jen smoothed her hand over the pale fuzzy growth on Alexandra's head and gazed transfixed into her blue eyes, so very like Loren's Jen thought, as she looked up and ventured a small, tired smile at Loren, "She's beautiful."

Loren smiled back and whispered, "Yes, she is, I'm so lucky", although her own eyes were damp as she watched the pain in Jen's eyes fade while she became absorbed in studying Alexandra. Becoming conscious of being stared at as well, Loren tore her eyes away from Jen to see Trish watching her, she too Loren noted, had suspiciously moist-looking eyes, but the smile she gave Loren was one of approval and... something else. Why would Trish be looking at her like that? Loren wrinkled her brow in silent question and saw Trish's smile widen as she nodded. Loren was still at a loss to understand Trish's unspoken communication and resolved to ask her, but later when there was no chance of either question or answer further upsetting Jen.

Trish left Loren and Jen alone and blew her nose as she rose to join Frank and Harm. "Are we still going to try and meet your mystery blonde, Frank?" she teased him.

Frank looked at his watch and said something that sounded suspiciously like "Oh, crap!" and ignoring the stern look he got from Trish, he dived into his pocket, pulled out his cell 'phone and checked the 'numbers dialled' for Miss Graves' number, and apologising profusely that they were going to be more than just a little late, but that they were on their way, he signalled frantically for Harm and Trish to start assembling the party and their possessions.

The sudden sense of urgency that gripped the party also helped in bringing Jen out of her distraction and by unspoken agreement she was left to share the middle seats in the MPV with Loren and Alexandra, where it should seem that her own burgeoning maternal instincts no doubt triggered by Alexandra's presence helped to further raise her spirits.

Harm watched the MPV pull out into traffic ahead of him before jumping into the 'vette. He had, or he hoped he had, a ploy that might also help in bringing Jen's sadness to an end. Following the rental until both vehicles had crossed the George Mason Bridge, he swung left onto the Columbia Pike heading for JAG HQ. Passing through the security gates he parked in his accustomed space and showing his ID to the marine on the signing-in desk he bounded up the two flights of stairs to the bull-pen. Exchanging brief greetings with surprised members of the bull-pen staff, he made his way to the rest room, where in the mail rack he checked for mail for Coates, and saw, as he had hoped the small package with the Navy Yard's BUPERS branch rubber stamp mark on it. Sliding the package into a pocket, he crossed the bull-pen heading towards the admiral's office, waving off an attempted interruption by Bud Roberts with a cheery, "Not now, Bud, I'll call you later", and then turning his attention to the admiral's Yeoman said, "'Morning Tiner, is the admiral in?"

"Good morning, sir! Yes, sir, I'll buzz him for you," and reaching out pressed the 'call button on the interphone. "Admiral, sir, Commander Rabb would like to speak with you... Aye, aye, sir. Commander, sir, the admiral says to go right on in!"

"Good morning, sir!" Although in civilian clothes, Harm stood at attention in front of his CO.

"Sit down, Commander," the old officer, said, polishing his reading glasses. "What can I do for you?"

"Sir, is there some way we can amend our Page 2's without the whole office becoming instantly aware of it?"

"H'mm, good question. I take it from that, that Coates is retaining her maiden name?"

"No, sir, she has taken my name. She says that, for some reason, she's not ashamed to!" He reddened slightly as he said it.

The admiral grinned, "Harm," he said, surprising the hell out of his subordinate, "you've got a good one there!"

"Aye, sir, that I have!"

The admiral pursed his lips as he considered his options. "Right!" he said, and then called out "Tiner!"

The yeoman opened the door with record speed, "Sir?"

"Tiner, coffee for the commander and myself, and Tiner, make sure it's a fresh brew!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Admiral Chegwidden rose from his chair and after giving his Yeoman a ten second start delved into the filing cabinet and returned with Harm and Jen's service record jackets. "Right, he said, "OK, fill in the details on your Page 2, and I'll copy them across to Legalman Coates... er... Rabb's jacket. Now, when you come in on Monday bring with you your marriage certificate and your copy of the entry into the register, and I'll get Tiner out of the way when we replace these in his cabinet. In the meantime, I'll keep them under lock and key and away from inquisitive eyes! Now Commander, how is married life treating you?"

Seeing no reason to disclose Jen's present unhappiness, which he hoped would be only very short-lived, Harm grinned and said, "Fine, sir. It's taking a bit of getting used to, but I'm told the first thirty years are the worst, and we'll be good after that!" As soon as he had said the words he could have kicked himself. He knew, dammit the whole office knew, that the admiral's marriage had ended in failure, and now after the Old Man had been so reasonable, all he had managed to do was rub salt into the wounds. "Sir, I'm so sorry, sir, I didn't..."

"At ease, Commander. Even I can't expect everyone to walk around me on egg shells every time I hear the word 'marriage'. You look after that fine young woman, or you'll find out just how much of a hard-ass I can be! Dismissed!"

Harm stood to attention, "Aye, aye, sir!" he grinned, not entirely sure whether the old SEAL was joking or not and executing an about face opened the office door just as Tiner approached with two mugs of coffee. "Sir!" the very much put-upon Yeoman protested, "your coffee!"

"Give 'em both to the admiral, Tiner - I think he needs them!"

Arriving at the address on Annandale Road Harm found the MPV parked at the kerbside behind a Mitsubishi Lancer, with Frank, Loren and Jen talking with an amazingly youthful blonde woman - no, belay that - college age girl. Climbing out of the 'vette he approached them in time to hear Frank say, "Miss Graves, this is my son, Harmon Rabb; Harm, Miss Graves of Graves' Real Estate, in Arlington."

Harm shook the hand extended to him and smiling said, "Miss Graves, hi. I think we're a little behind schedule already, and I've kept you all waiting a bit longer. I'm sorry."

Catherine Graves looked up into the bluest pair of eyes she had ever seen and was hit by the full force of Harm's flyboy grin. She felt herself go weak at the knees and just about managed to reply, "Oh, don't apologise, things got a bit hectic at the office earlier, and I was running late. I was just about to call Mr Burnett and say sorry to him, when he called me. So I guess we're just about quits! Anyway, we're here now and Mrs Brovo is expecting us; shall we?" and she indicated that it was time for the party to move on.

Harm hadn't been told the name of the vendor so he took advantage of the walk up to the house to ask Frank, "Brovo? I knew an admiral..."

Frank nodded, "Yes, it's his widow that's selling up."

Harm felt a wave of sadness pass over him; not that he had ever been close to the former JAG, he had only been a lieutenant back then, but still...

Letting his pace drop off, he fell back to where Jen was walking with Loren and slid an arm around her waist, "How are you holding up?" he asked her, not that he needed telling, but out of a conviction that she needed reminding that people, that he, cared.

His actions puzzled Catherine Graves, who had assumed that he was the husband of the blonde woman with the baby, and she was far too young and too inexperienced to keep her confusion from her face. Loren smiled at her and said, "It's OK, it's not as weird as all that. He's my brother-in-law, and she's his wife, we're not his harem." And she suddenly laughed.

The unexpected sound brought the party to a temporary standstill.

"What's so funny," Harm wanted to know.

"Oh", Loren said, still chuckling, "I was just telling Miss Graves here not to worry, that we weren't some really weird extended family, and I said that Jen and I weren't your harem."

"Yes?"

"And then... and then..." she started laughing again, "I had a thought; that's exactly what Colonel MacKenzie is _bound _to think!"

Harm blanched, "Oh crap! I never thought of that, but you are so right!"

To the surprise of all, it was Jen's voice, with a hint of humour in it, that said, "Don't begrudge it to her, it'll make her day!"

"Jen! Are you..." Harm started to say, but was interrupted by Frank's

"Welcome back, Jennifer!"

Loren said nothing; she just closed the distance between her and Jen and hugged her fiercely.

Harm had meant to save this moment for later, but made an instant decision, and fumbling in his pocket he brought out the little package he'd taken from Jen's pigeon-hole and said, "I hope this is what I think it is."

Jen took the package and failing to tear open the tape sealing it, bit down on one corner of the wrapping and tore it open. "They don't make things easy do they?" she commented as Frank, Loren and Harm stood by expectantly. Catherine Graves also stood watching, but her expression was of deepened confusion, which only grew deeper as Jen opened the package and unfolded the bubble wrap it contained and then gave a gasp of pleasure as four small, rectangular, black plastic and metal brooches fell into her hand, each one bearing in white letters, the name 'Rabb'. Turning to Harm she smiled, not her normal one thousand mega-watt smile, but still a smile, and said as she threw her arms around him, "This is so dumb! But all of a sudden, these make it all seem... real... official!"

"It's even more official than you think," he told her, "One of the reasons I was a little delayed in getting here, is that I went to see the admiral, and had our Page 2's amended!"

Jen said nothing but looked up at him, her approval evident as she turned pink with pleasure.

Frank, although reluctant to break up the little tableau, coughed and indicated the waiting house and the waiting Miss Graves, to whom he added in a wryly apologetic manner, "Newly weds!"

Catherine Graves said nothing, she just looked at each of the party in turn and hoped that she wasn't about to involve her daddy with a bunch of lunatics, but swallowing her fears she just said, "Uh, people? The house..."

Her voice effectively broke up the little scene and they turned their attention back towards the house where the black-clad figure of Amanda Brovo now stood waiting for them at the door.

Harm stepped forward and offered his hand, "Mrs Brovo, I'm sure you don't remember me, Harmon Rabb, I used to be in your husband's command. He was a fine officer, ma'am, and I'm truly sorry for your loss"

"Thank you for that. Yes, of course I remember you, Lieutenant Rabb, but not still a lieutenant, surely?"

Harm grinned, slightly embarrassed, "No, ma'am. Commander Rabb, now. If you'll allow me to introduce, my wife, Jennifer, my dad, Frank Burnett, and this is Lieutenant Loren Singer, a colleague."

"I'm very pleased to meet you all. Catherine, dear, you know the house by now, why don't you show these good people around, and I'll make some hot drinks. Coffee everyone?"

Loren answered first, "tea, please Mrs Brovo... I'm nursing."

Jen was almost as quick to respond, "And I'm off coffee too, so tea for me, please."

Frank and Harm sighed, "Tea all round then please, Mrs Brovo."

Catherine Graves smiled brightly, and said, "If you're sure, Mrs Brovo?"

The tour of the house took about twenty minutes, and with each minute Jen became more sure that the place was perfect. The back yard was securely fenced in, there were six rooms that could be used as bedrooms, nurseries or studies and there was ample space in the wide open ground floor. The best feature however was the last. Instead of an over-the-garage apartment that space had been turned into an office, and the guest rooms turned out to be two stone-clad constructions at the end of the yard, connected to each other by a dog-run. The slightly smaller building contained kitchen, utility space and living room, while the larger building had two generously proportioned bedrooms, a small bedroom and a bath and shower room. From Loren's perspective this was perfection. While she had been prepared to cope with the stairs that would be an inevitable part of living in a second floor apartment, this was a much better situation.

The tour of inspection over, Frank drew them all a little to one side and asked, "Well?"

Looking at Jen and Loren to confirm his suspicion of their opinions, Harm could see nothing but approval in their faces. He turned back to Frank and nodded. "Yes, provided all the legalities match up, this place is just about ideal!"

Frank turned to the young realtor, "Miss Graves, would you prefer a cashier's check, or a wire transfer?"


	23. All Go Home

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 23  
>All Go Home<strong>

Frank Burnett was tired; it was a good kind of tired, though. The kind of tired you get when you've had a long, tough day, but had finished with the sense of accomplishment. He toweled his head dry and slipping into his pyjamas pulled on his dressing gown and walked into the bedroom.

Trish was already in bed, surrounded by a welter of paper sitting with her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose and thoughtfully sucking on the end of her pen.

"Do you want move some of that… stuff and make a bit of room for me?" he asked her.

"Stuff, indeed!" she snorted, but nevertheless gathered up her papers and shuffling them into some sort of order she placed them, her glasses and pen on the nightstand. Waiting until Frank had slid under the covers she turned on her side towards him, and said, "Frank, I've really, really enjoyed being here with Harm and Jen - and with Loren and Alexandra…"

"But you want to go home, right?" he said, as he slid his arm around her shoulder and let her rest her head against his upper arm.

"Oh… want? Yes, in some ways, I do, but it's more that, I _need_ to go home. I spent the whole afternoon, and a good part of the evening, before and after dinner, either on-line or on the 'phone talking to Janet. There are questions being asked about the Degas exhibition that she hasn't the authority or know-how to answer, and that I can't answer from memory. I need to get back to the gallery."

"Yes, I can see where that's happening. Trish, I don't pretend to know anything about running an art gallery - God preserve me from temperamental artistic types, I have enough problems with conceptual designers - but I've spent a goodly amount of time talking to Chet Miller in Detroit, and Alex Hughes in SD, and while I do know what I'm talking about when it comes making cars, I still need to access my files and my people face to face!"

"But the good news is, my darling," he continued, "that I've arranged for a wire transfer to Graves in Arlington, and told Jimmy Burrell to handle the legal side of the house purchase and to set up separate tenancy agreements for Harm and for Loren. I haven't," he gave her a little squeeze, "despite what you've been thinking, spent quite all my time away from you in the hotel bar! So, apart from just one little snag, we can go home anytime you want."

Trish smiled, "Home sounds so good… This place is great, the service is good, the staff are smiling and friendly, but… I miss being the one in control, I miss having to cook and clean and… I don't think you spend all your time in the bar…What snag?"

"Loren and Alexandra. Do you remember how determined she was about not letting us pay for her hotel room here? And how hard we had to work to get her to let us? Do you really think she'll be happy about staying here alone once we've gone back to California? Because I have a feeling that once we're out of the door, she won't be far behind us, heading for some cheap motel, somewhere, and I don't like that idea, not one little bit. She's calmed down a lot in the few weeks we've known her, but she can still be damn prickly." He smiled at the memory, "Did you see or hear the way she ripped up at Harm today when she thought he was the one who'd upset Jen? Fantastic! Even Harm said so. He said that if she could harness that sort of passion in the courtroom, she'd be a great attorney!"

"Yes, that's all very well, Frank, but what are you going to do about her, and Alexandra?"

"Me? Oh, I'm not going to do anything." He grinned at the look of shock on Trish's face, "You are!"

"Me! How am… Oh, you're being cunning again, aren't you? So, tell me," she said, reaching over him to turn off the bedside light and then snuggling close to him, "how I'm going to solve the problem for you…"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm was sitting up in bed, a pillow propped between his head and the bedroom wall. He was enjoying the sight of Jen, fresh from the shower and wrapped in her short, blue silk-effect, kimono-style dressing gown as she sat in front of their make-shift dressing table, (a mirror taken down from the wall, and propped on the chest of drawers) as she used hair dryer and brush to restore order to her shower-disordered hair. At length, too soon for his liking, she gave a satisfied nod, and turned off the dryer. He slipped out of bed and coming up behind her as she stood, he said, "Close your eyes, and no peeking".

She smiled at him across her shoulder and said, "No peeking?"

"Nope! None at all."

"Harm! What are you up to?" she said, half giggling , as he pulled he dressing gown clear of her shoulders.

"No peeking!" he reminded her.

She stood for what seemed an age as she tried to analyse various sounds, that was a zipper, a heavy zipper, being opened or closed, and that was a click of some sort, and then a kind of snap and wow! That was cold! Harm had just placed something, a necklace? around her neck, her hand automatically went up to it as she felt its weight, but her wrist was gently grasped and her arm borne down to her side, as Harm reminded her "No peeking!"

Then he gave her permission, "OK, you can open your eyes now."

She did, and then gasped in astonishment. He had placed a necklace around her neck. A gold chain of double Celtic interlace and between each link it had alternately a blue gemstone and a white pearl. She spun around to face him, "Harm! It's beautiful, but it's far too expensive! How could you afford it? Where did you get it? Oh, Harm, I love it, but" she ended sadly, "you'll have to take it back, we can't possibly afford it!"

He smiled at the expression of mixed pleasure and regret on her face and said, "Can't take it back. Haven't got a receipt. Beside, Grams would be really, really hurt if we tried to give it back to her."

"Grams? Grams Sarah?"

"Yes, it's her wedding present to you."

"Oh…" Grams Sarah wasn't there to be kissed, so Jen did the next best thing, and settled for kissing Harm instead, as she pushed him backwards towards the bed.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Loren Singer sat on the edge of her bed and nursed her daughter. She stared down into Alexandra's blue eyes, how lucky I am, to have such a beautiful clever daughter. You did so well today, darling, helping your Auntie Jennifer, she was so sad and all because her daddy was so mean to her. That's what I mean when I say that maybe we're better off without your daddy. We might have a sniffle or two when we miss him, but he's not going to make us sad; not like the way Jen's daddy made her sad. But we shan't be sad; Grandpa Frank's looking after us. He's found us a nice little house we can live in, right next door to your uncle Harm and Auntie Jen, and soon, there's going to be another little baby, you're going to have a little cousin, no, I don't know if it's going to be a girl cousin, or a boy cousin, but we'll have to love him or her just the same. Just the way that Grandpa Frank and Grandma Trish love you. You should have a Grandpa Otto, and Grandma Magda as well, and lots and lots of Aunties too, but they're mean, too, just like your Auntie Jen's daddy. Why is it that folk that say they love God are so mean to other people? People who love God are supposed to love other people, but they don't. Well, maybe Trish and Frank do love God, but if they do, they don't wave the flag and parade around, they just do it quietly. The way they've done so much for us. And I don't deserve it, you do though, 'cause none of this your fault, baby, you didn't ask to get born. But I promise you, my little Sasha, that I'll look after you just the best way I can. I was afraid that being a mommy would mean that I couldn't work as hard as I have to, but now, with you here I've got more reason than ever before to work… Oh, are you still hungry? Little monster, let's switch you around… aaah, that's better, for me too! Oh… you're sleepy now, well just a little more, Alexandra, yes… there's a good girl… No? That's it? Alright, then come to mommy. Now, then little sleepy head, good night baby, good night.

And a good night for me too, Loren yawned as she slid between the sheets. Then she smiled to herself, I wonder what my crazy family have got planned to keep us all busy tomorrow. She stopped and rethought her last idea. Yes, I called them Grandma and Grandpa, and Uncle and Auntie, and so they are to Alexandra, but what are they to me? They treat me like family, and Trish was so sweet the other day, when she said that they loved me, no… when they said that they chose to love me. But I'm not really family… the only one I could really lay any claim to is Harm, and that claim is a bit hinky, too. But… they have been better to me than my own… I owe them so much… I wish I was really a part of them…

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm woke to the realisation that he was alone in bed, and feeling a bit disgruntled - he'd woken with some very personal plans in mind - he stuck his head into the bathroom and then pulling a sweat shirt on over his head he walked through into the living room to find Jen sat at the breakfast bar with a notepad in front of her, a pencil in hand and the tip of her tongue gripped between her teeth.

He walked up behind her, and putting his arms around her waist he gently pulled her back so she was resting against his chest, and then burying his face in her hair he took a deep breath, inhaling her sweet warmth and scent.

Jen raised her head and leaned even further back to kiss him, "Good morning, you," she murmured.

"M'mm, g'morning to you too. How do you feel this morning, any nausea?" he asked thinking back to the previous morning's bout.

"No, not this morning," she replied, obviously with same event in mind, "and I don't think yesterday was morning sickness, it was probably just because I was so upset and angry and… yes, sick at what my father had said,"

"Uh-huh," he acknowledged, quite prepared to support her through any nausea to which she might fall prey, but relieved that for today at least, he wouldn't be called upon to perform that service.

"So, what're you doing, so busy, so early?" he asked looking over her shoulder at the notes and figures she'd scribbled on the pad.

"The household budget," she replied with a half smile, "we've got things to hammer out, things we need to decide on, preparations to make, before we even think about the move."

"My, my" he said in the most patronizing tone he could summon up, "we are being thorough, this morning, aren't we."

Jen glared at him in suspicion before her face relaxed and her dimple shone through, "Well, we Legalmen have learned that we have to be, we can't trust the lawyers to get anything done properly!"

He nuzzled her hair again and said, "You do realise that I'm going to get you for that, don't you?"

"Well, you can try... but right now, you," she said, reaching up to rasp her fingernails along his jaw-line, need to _get_ a shave, and a shower. And after you've done that you can _get_ a cup of coffee, which I'll_ get_ going while you're in the bathroom. So go, _get_!"

"Oh, _very_ good, Mrs Rabb!" he complimented her as he finally unlocked his arms from around her waist.

She swiveled around on the stool and reached out for his hands, "You have absolutely no idea how that make me feels when you call me Mrs Rabb!" she smiled, and raised her head so that he could kiss her again, "but… no matter how it makes me feel, we've got work to do, but…" and her eyes turned almost smoky, "when we're finished for the day Mr Rabb, your ass is going to be all mine!"

"Yeah, yeah, promises!" he scoffed as he turned towards the bathroom.

"Oh, mister, you'd better believe that I keep my promises!" she murmured as she smiled and turned again to her notes.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Frank and Trish had again arranged to meet Loren and Alexandra for breakfast, and although they tried to keep the conversation light and inconsequential, Loren soon picked up that there was an underlying tension. The tension didn't seem to be between Trish and Frank, so, she reasoned, that somehow or other she must be the cause of. That realisation caused a degree of inner awkwardness that soon became evident, even to her own ears, in her conversation. At last she unable to bear any longer with the atmosphere, she laid down her knife and fork and looking at Frank and Trish in turn, said, "OK, what gives? I can hear the eggshells cracking under your feet!"

"That obvious?" Asked Frank, showing his chagrin.

"'Fraid so. You forget that I'm a lawyer," Loren replied, "I'm trained to see it when people are trying to hide things from me. You two have been tip-toeing around me ever since I sat down this morning. So, c'mon, give, what's the problem?"

Trish smiled, a little uneasily, and reached out to cover one of Loren's hands with her own, "It's not a real problem, problem Loren… It's just that while we've really enjoyed our time here, with Harm and Jennifer's wedding - and yes, even with the house hunting, which I loathe - and especially, we've loved being with you, and our beautiful grand… this beautiful baby, but…"

"But you've got your own lives to lead, and both you and Frank have got businesses to look after that won't run themselves. So, you need to get back to California, before those businesses come crashing down around your ears." Loren smiled, "Like I said, I'm pretty smart… even for a lawyer! So what you're saying isn't totally unexpected. Oh, Trish, and Frank, please do call Alexandra your Granddaughter, if you want to, and I hope you don't mind that I've already introduced you to her as her grandparents. You are certainly more her grandparents than mine could ever be!"

Trish looked gratified at the tribute that Loren had just paid to her and Frank, but underneath her smile she felt worried for this troubled young woman. She was sure that Jen knew more about Loren's past than she did, but although if Frank ever allowed her, she would happily give Loren a friendly third degree, she would never even dream of asking Jen to talk about Loren behind her back. But Loren had let slip one or two snippets of information, perhaps more revealing than she had known, and Trish was forming a theory that Loren had abandonment issues buried deep in her past. If so, then she and Frank needed to handle their departure for San Diego, very carefully indeed.

Frank looked at Trish and Loren in turn, and shifted uneasily in his seat. "Loren, ever since Trish coerced me into holding your hand in the delivery room - and if you weren't a lawyer, I'd be suing you for compensation for injuries inflicted - Alexandra has been like a Granddaughter to me, and I'm so very happy to hear that you think that I qualify for that position. So as her Grandfather, I'm claiming my right to spoil her rotten, keep her hyped on sugar until eight o'clock in the evening, every evening, before I hand her back to you for the night!"

Loren's laughter rang out, drowning Trish's protest of "Frank!"

"You would do that, too, wouldn't you?" Loren challenged him.

"Damn right I would." He beamed

Loren turned to Trish, "Mrs Burnett, I beg leave to tell you that you have married an absolutely _evil _man!"

"Oh, I know dear," Trish sighed theatrically,"but you see, he's so very good in…"

"Trish!" a horrified Frank hastily interrupted her.

"all sorts of ways," Trish continued totally unruffled and without the slightest break in her sentence.

"Do you think, Trish, that we can let him off the hook, now?"

"I don't know, dear, has he suffered enough, yet?"

"H'mm, Good question."

Frank looked at them in fascination, "Did you… did you set that up in advance?" he wanted to know.

"How could we, dear?"a surprised Trish queried, "We didn't know that you were going to say anything that would have led us into that."

"You mean, that was all ad-libbed? That you just picked up the ball and ran with it?"

The two women looked at each and then back at Frank and with perfect synchronization each nodded twice.

Frank rolled his eyes and shrugged helplessly, "I am going, to my room," he said with immense dignity, "to log in to SD and make a couple of 'phone calls. Loren, please don't go out without letting me know, thanks."

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Frank reached the sanctuary of his room and dialed a familiar number, "Hi, Harm, it's Frank…"

"No, Frank, not Harm, me."

"Oh, Jen, listen, I need to speak to the two of you face to face, can you come straight over. Tell Harm it's a family meeting, he'll know what I mean. But when you get here, come straight up to the room, if you see Trish and Loren pretend you don't see 'em. OK?"

"Yeah, OK Frank," a puzzled Jen hung up and called into the bedroom where Harm was dressing, "Hey, I've just had the weirdest 'phone call from Frank. He said something about a family meeting, and to come straight over…"

Harm came to the bedroom door, still half entangled in a sweater, "Family meeting? Straight away?" he asked.

Jen nodded, "Yeah, and that we were to avoid your mom and Loren…"

Harm raised his eyebrows and whistled silently at that piece of information; Frank was obviously planning something of which either or both women would disapprove. "OK, grab a jacket, and let's get going!"

A by now thoroughly bewildered Jen followed him out of the door. Settling her into the 'vette, Harm walked around to the driver's side and got behind the wheel. Jen looked at him in exasperation, and opened her mouth to speak.

"Just hold it a second, please Jen," Harm said as he started a three point turn back and forwards across the width of the alley. Then with the car pointing in the right direction he edged out into traffic and turned right to begin the ten-minute drive across town to 14th Street North West.

"A Family meeting is the Burnett equivalent of all hands on deck. It's not necessarily an emergency unless it's called without a warning, like now, then it's more like a case of all hands to the pumps, 'cause the ship's sinking. Did he sound worried or panicky?"

"No… not exactly. Harm, what could have gone wrong? Has there been an accident? Or…"

"No, Frank wouldn't call a family meeting for an accident, he'd come right out and say so over the 'phone and tell us who, how bad, what and where. No, I don't know what he wants, but I shouldn't think it's anything too serious."

Jen's immediate anxieties were soothed by Harm's calmness, and she realised that despite all the questions she had bubbling away just under the surface, it was pointless to badger Harm with them; he was as much in the dark as she was. Squirming in her seat with impatience and fretting over the reason behind Frank's summons, Jen had never thought that ten minutes could last so long. The journey, to which she was fast becoming accustomed, normally flashed past seemed to take forever, but when Harm stopped the Corvette outside the Hilton Garden Inn, and tossed the 'vette's keys to a parking valet, she looked at her watch and saw to her surprise that the journey had taken less than the ten minutes.

Harm's quick reconnaissance of the hotel lobby revealed that both Trish and Loren were conspicuous by their absence, and a quick 'phone call to Frank's cell 'phone was sufficient to inform him that Frank was alone in his and Trish's suite. Placing his hand in the small of Jen's back he guided her across the entrance lobby to the elevator bank and pressed the 'call' button.

Seconds after the elevator double closed silently behind them, Trish and Loren emerged from the baby changing facility and sat at their usual corner table in the lobby and waited to hear what Frank had to say that he'd thought so important that he'd asked Loren to wait for him.

Harm's knock on the suite door was answered by Frank who beckoned them into the living area whilst holding his cell 'phone to his ear. "OK, so the transfer's gone through. Good, now, what about closing? Uh-huh, can we get it done any quicker? No, I don't care. You get on their ass, and you tell them to Goddamwell expedite. I want an exchange of contracts by midday, Friday of next week! That gives them eight days; it should be plenty of time, there's no escrow involved, no mortgage, so you tell 'em to damn well get their butts in gear, or I'll cancel the whole damn deal! Got it? Good!" He closed his cell 'phone and said "Goddam lawyers!"

Jen, who had never seen the tough-talking businessman side of Frank, had been gaping in astonishment as she listened to his voice on the 'phone, but his final phrase startled a giggle out of her.

Frank looked at her and in what Jen was now mentally dubbing his 'family' voice, said, "What?"

"Do you realise what you just said?" Jen asked him, the mischief dancing in her eyes, and with a sidelong look at Harm.

"Yeah, I was just cussing some incompetent…lawyers. Oh."

"Oh, indeed" said Jen fixing him with her deep brown eyes, but the hint of her dimple as she fought to keep a straight face, was enough to bring Frank across the room and give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Hey, put my wife down! Or" protested a highly amused Harm, "I'll tell my mom on you!"

Jen, her anxieties relieved by the jokes and the good humour perched on the couch and asked, "Come on Frank, we're dying of curiosity here…"

"Well, you might be," her undutiful husband interrupted sotto voce

The only sign that indicated that Jen had heard his comment was flash of her eyes in his direction, "what gives?" she finished, and like Trish earlier, not missing a beat.

Frank sat in one of the arm chairs and said, "Trish and I were talking last night; we both need to get back to San Diego, and attend to business, while we've both still got businesses to attend to. Normally, that's not a problem; we'd book a flight, check out of the hotel and be up, up and away. But…"

"Loren and Alexandra…" Harm interjected.

Frank grinned in relief, thankful for Harm's ready appreciation, "Yes. Of course, they are both more, much more than welcome to come back to San Diego with us until her leave expires. Equally they are both more than welcome to stay here as my and Trish's guests. But I'm pretty sure, and I've a feeling that she will do neither, and the second we are out of the door, she'll be gone looking for a cheap motel somewhere until we close the deal on the Annandale Road property. That might have been OK when she was on her own; I'm not saying it would be OK, I'm saying might be. But it is absolutely not OK now that she's got Alexandra!"

"Harm and I wouldn't let her do that Frank!" Jen objected.

"No, I know you wouldn't, but how would you know if she told you something different?"

"Frank, you don't know Loren all that well, I know you're very fond of her, but the fact remains that you don't know her like I do, or even like Jen does." Harm asserted.

Jen winced at this reminder of the Christmas before last, when Loren had been the prosecutor at her Article 32 hearing.

Harm shot her a reassuring smile, and then returning his attention to Frank, he continued, "Loren might be many things, Frank, but she's not a liar. She might obfuscate, evade and deflect, but when asked a straight question, she'll give an honest and straight answer."

Jen who had been sunk in thought and nibbling on her bottom lip, said speculatively as she put into words the plan that was still forming in her mind, "We could have her come and stay with us. It's only until you close the deal in Falls Church, and… that was what you were speaking about when we came in wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was," Frank admitted

"And you weren't serious about calling the deal off, were you?"

"Good grief no! And go through all that house-hunting again! No way!"

"So, it would only be for a week, or less than that if you can't get a flight until Saturday… So…" Jen looked at Harm, "It is do-able. Isn't it?"

Harm looked troubled, he could see the logic behind Jen's reasoning, but the logistics were daunting. "I don't know, Jen. I mean, in principle, yes. After all, how much room can one woman and a baby take up?"

Both Jen and Frank looked startled at the amount of blissful ignorance Harm's words had revealed, but after a look at each other, by some unspoken mutual agreement the held their peace.

"But, the practicalities, Jen. Where would they sleep?"

"Sasha's got her porta-crib, she's been sleeping in that ever since Loren brought her home from the hospital, and there's the couch. We could rig a screen at the far end of the lounge area, past the breakfast counter; that would give her privacy." Jen suggested.

"Jen, you're not thinking this through. That couch is a killer. I slept on it once when I had to surrender my bed to unexpected visitors, and it damn' near killed me. I was literally crippled for days afterwards!"

Jen smiled in sympathy, while Frank who knew exactly who the unexpected guests, or guest rather, had been was hard put not to burst into laughter. Jen gave him a calculating look, and determining to get the full story out of him later, turned her attention back to the question of accommodating Loren and Sasha.

"Yes, maybe it is uncomfortable for you, but Loren is nowhere near as tall as you, nor is she as old as you, nor has her spine been wrecked by repeated punch-outs!"

Harm had glared indignantly at Jen at her mention of his age, but was forced to recognise the truth of her argument.

Jen continued in thought a moment longer, and then said brightly, "Well, if it is the couch that's the problem, we'll just have to put a bed in there for her!"

"Where are we going to get a bed at a minute's notice?" Asked Frank.

"Well, we'll have to buy one, from a furniture store, of course." Jen replied, looking puzzled as to why the two men could not see the obvious answer for themselves.

"Jen, most furniture stores take weeks to deliver. What they have in their showrooms are just like fabric swatches, for show, not for sale!

Jen looked crestfallen for a minute while Frank and Harm traced her every thought as it was reflected in her expression. They knew she had reached a conclusion before she even lifted her eyes to theirs and said, "I've got an idea!"

Frank looked at Harm and said, "Given her last idea, I wonder if you're going to like this?"

Jen gave him a very eloquent glance and then said, "Oh, Frank, just hush up your nonsense!"

Frank who not previously been privileged to hear Jen's impersonation of Trish sat staring at her with an appalled expression on his face. "That… that was, horrible… it was so like Trish… Jen, please don't tell me that you're going to make a habit of doing that!"

Jen giggled, pleased with the effect of her mimicry.

Harm grinned and said to Frank, "You can imagine how I felt when she did that to me… when we were in bed together!"

Frank looked as if he didn't whether to be horrified or to laugh at loud, while Jen bushed at Harm's revelation.

"If you two are going to play the fool for much longer, then I shan't tell you what I've thought of." She warned them.

"Go on, then my lady, your humble servants await your decision!"

"Clown!" She grumbled at her grinning husband, and then she carried on with her thoughts, "Mrs Brovo said she was down-sizing, and that she was having a yard sale before she left. I'll bet she isn't taking all her beds with her!"

Frank looked at Jen with genuine admiration, "Your wife is a genius! He said to Harm.

"I know," that fortunate man smirked, "she married me!"

Jen blushed again, this time with pleasure at Frank's praise but also because she saw right through Harm's teasing to the love that underlay it.

Frank drew a deep breath, "OK, then. I'll call a family meeting, right now, and we'll lay our options on the table for Loren to decide which one to choose, and we'll also let her put forward any reasonable alternative she proposes, but we don't let her choose anything else unless it is at least as good and sound an idea as our proposals. Agreed?"

Seeing the other two nod, Frank picked up his cell 'phone and pressed a button, "Trish, number 1 on the speed dial," he grinned just slightly sheepishly.

"Hi honey, it's me. I've got Harm and Jen up here in the suite, and I've called a family meeting. So bring Loren as well, will you. Thanks, honey. Yes, I love you too."

They weren't kept waiting many minutes before Trish and Loren the latter carrying the porta-crib let themselves into the room. Morning greetings were exchanged between Harm, Jen and Loren, and once everybody had seated themselves, Frank rapped his knuckles on the table and said, "I've called this meeting because, as we mentioned to Loren at breakfast, regrettably Trish and I need to head back to San Diego. Harm and Jen are now safely married and I believe that everything has been squared away with your boss concerning marriage, pregnancies and babies?" He looked at the three sailors and received a triple nod of confirmation. "So the only other niggle we had, was what was Loren going to do. Now, don't get on your high horse, missy," he interrupted himself as he saw Loren draw a deep breath in preparation for a what was obviously going to be a protest, "This is not just for your benefit, we're thinking about Sasha as well. After all, we are her grandparents."

Harm and Jen exchanged questioning looks; there was obviously something here about which they knew nothing.

Loren in the meantime glowered at Frank and said, "Trish, I'll let you off the hook this time; you couldn't have been involved in whatever these three have cooked up. Dammit! _I'm_ your alibi! And you three," she accused them, "are damn' well trying to railroad me again! And you, Frank, are going to use the Granddad card against me this time and every time, aren't you?"

"Damn straight, I am! You handed it to me, and I'd be a damn fool not to use it."

"Not fair!" complained Loren, "I thought you were just going to spoil her rotten and let her get hyper on sugar!"

"Well, yes, that too," Frank agreed totally unabashed. "But listen, Loren, if we are railroading you, it's because we care about… no, it's because we love you."

Loren was still by no means reconciled, but at least was now prepared to listen to Frank as he explained the three alternative plans devised by his committee of three. Having heard him have his say, Loren pondered her choices, and the eventually sighed, "I'm due back off leave on Monday May twenty-sixth, that's eleven day away, and although I'm truly grateful for the offer of returning to San Diego with you, I really don't want to put Alexandra through a return trip on a commercial airline in such a short space of time - and don't tell me that three airline tickets are more expensive than a private charter, I'm still not sure whether I believed that last time, and I sure as hell don't this time! At the same time, I can't stay here, letting you foot the bill Frank. It's very, very generous of you, but you've already been put to far much expense and trouble on my behalf…"

"Oh, hush your nonsense," an acutely embarrassed Frank interrupted her, drawing amused glances from Harm and Jen and a shocked look from Trish. While Loren ventured a somewhat tremulous smile as she battled with her emotions, and fishing a dry-wipe out of the porta-crib she dabbed at her eyes and then defiantly blew her nose. "Hay fever," she explained succinctly, and then said, "You're not going to let me find a cheaper hotel until we can move into Annandale Road, are you? No, I didn't think you would. So the only option left to me then is for me to inflict us on you two," she finished, looking at Harm and Jen. "Are you quite sure you're both OK with that? Madam here is still waking up during the night, and you know just how unrestrained she can be when she expresses an opinion!"

Harm winced, but Jen smiled and said "Of course we're certain, Loren. Besides, it'll get us used to losing sleep for when our own little girl arrives!"

"Well if that's all settled, Harm said, "We'd best take steps to get Loren a bed. Did anyone think to get the number for the property at Annandale? Frank have you got the Graves girl's number? Good. Give me five minutes everyone, please. Jen, can you and Frank explain to Loren what we were thinking? Hello Miss Graves? This is Commander Rabb, could you let me have Mrs Brovo's number, please?"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Forty-five minutes later Harm and Loren climbed out of the Corvette outside what was soon to be their new home, and walked up the path, and were met at the door by Mrs Brovo, "Good morning Commander, and… Mrs Rabb? No, you're Lieutenant Singer… I'm sorry, it was just a little bit confusing the other day, and I didn't perhaps quite grasp who exactly was who! Now, come on in, and sit down, I do remember that neither of you girls were drinking coffee, so I've got the kettle hot and it won't take a minute to brew some tea!"

The admiral's widow was true to her word and was pouring the fresh-brewed tea within five minutes, "Now, you were wanting to buy a bed?"

"Yes," Harm said, looking at Loren, and silently asking whether he should take the lead, "We've come a bit unstuck. My parents have got to head back to California, and the sub-let on Loren's apartment doesn't end until June tenth, so as we're not comfortable with Loren staying in a hotel on her own with Alexandra, she's going to come and stay with us. So we need to buy a bed, today, preferably."

"Well, yes, of course, you're welcome to choose any of them, except mine, but you'll know my room when you see it. But what are you going to do with the bed once you've chosen it?"

"Dismantle it and take back to DC." He turned to Loren and added, "I'll call the Gunny and get a case of beer, I'm sure he'll find a couple of marines to give us a hand!"

"But that's just silly!" Mrs Brovo protested. "What are you going to do with the bed, once we've closed here?"

Harm grinned wryly, "Dismantle it and bring it back I guess!"

Mrs Brovo looked at him as if he, and Loren, had just stepped out of an alien space ship. "That's an even sillier proposition! The realtors and the lawyers called me this morning; they say they expect to close next Friday. Why on earth, if you're stuck for someplace to stay, don't you move in early, dear?"

"That's very good of you Mrs Brovo, but I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble, and Alexandra's only a month old and…"

"Oh yes, you are the nursing mother! When's your maternity leave up dear?"

"How did you know… Oh, I'm sorry, I was forgetting… your husband… Uh, I report back on Monday May twenty-sixth"

"H'mm, and you and your wife will still be on leave then?"

"No ma'am, we both finish our leave this Monday coming."

"Ah, then you've already arranged for day care?"

"Uh, no, that was going to be the next job. We couldn't even think about that until we knew where we were going to live."

"Well, you're going to live here! And it just so happens that we have a very good nanny agency based right here in Falls Church. Mildred Appleby, an old friend, has a niece with a little boy and she says they're very, very good. Let me give Mildred a call and see if she can remember the name of the agency. Hello, Mildred, yes, it's Amanda. Oh, well, yes, it's difficult, but I'm getting through it. Mildred, I'll tell you all about it later, I've sold the house to the most amazing family, quite, quite mad, all of them! But there's a baby involved, and your niece… what was her name? Oh yes, Caroline… well she spoke very highly of the agency she uses, can you remember their name? You can oh, good, yes, I'll wait… Nanny Poppinz! With a zee! Of course, yes, thank you Mildred, yes, thank you dear, yes, I'll call you later, yes, goodbye dear. She's a lovely person, but oh, she could talk the hind leg off a donkey! Anyway, the agency is called Nanny Poppinz, with a zee at the end, for some reason. You could move in tomorrow and then you'll have ten days to find exactly the right deal and the right person"

Loren looked helplessly at Harm who looked just as overwhelmed as she did, and before either of them had really taken on board what was happening they found themselves back in the 'vette having arranged that Loren and Alexandra would be moving into the guest house starting at oh-nine-hundred hours the following morning. As the still-stunned Harm fumbled the keys into the ignition, Loren burst out laughing, "What a formidable old lady! With her behind him no wonder Admiral Brovo was one of the youngest two-star JAGS there's ever been!"

Harm chuckled at Loren's no doubt pin-point accurate summation of the late JAG's career, until she slapped him lightly on the arm, "I don't know what you're laughing at," she said, still giggling, "You have been just as ruthlessly handled as you Frank and Jen dealt with me earlier! You, my friend have just been right royally railroaded!"

Harm looked at her in disbelief, and then as the truth of Loren's observation sunk in, he threw his head back against the head-rest and laughed until the tears ran down his face.


	24. Skater?

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 24  
>Skater?<strong>

Harm looked at the assembled crew, Keeter, Skates, Loren, Gunny and five useful looking marines, Jen - not that she'd be allowed to do any lifting, but she seemed quite happy just sitting in the 'vette looking after Alexandra. Quite happy? Hell, she was in seventh heaven. She was going to be such a good mom, and as he twisted round and looked at her, he again felt a deep inner warmth and a sense of wonder as he realised for the forty 'leventh time that week, just how lucky he was. Turning back to the rest of the crew it was only when he saw Jack and Gunny grinning at him and he caught sight of Loren's amused smile and lifted eyebrow that he realised that he still had a sappy smile plastered across his face.

Reddening slightly, he coughed to help cover his confusion and said to Loren, "Shall we?"

She recognised the feed, grinned back at him and with a twinkle in her eye answered, "Let's!" She had already unearthed her key ring from the depths of her purse, and selecting the appropriate key, unlocked the large brass padlock and swung open the door of the storage cubit to reveal its contents.

Harm and Keeter exchanged glances, looked at Gunny Galindez and then all three men turned towards Loren. Gunny Galindez looked at both officers and noted that they were both looking at him. He gulped; this was so not fair, but it was so damn' squid-like. They were waiting for a marine to take the initiative; oh crap, but there was no help for it, but those squids, officers or not, were going to owe him for this; take a deep breath Gunnery Sergeant, remember _Semper Fi_ - Do or Die, "Ma'am, how much of this are you expecting to move today?"

Loren look at him with wide-eyed astonishment, "Oh, all of it!" she said happily.

Harm and Keeter looked at the packed interior of the unit and then as if actuated by the same puppet master, they twisted their heads on their necks to look at the rented U-Haul trailer, both men shook their heads slowly, and then Keeter asked, "Are you going to tell her, or am I?"

"You tell her, Jack. I've got to live next door to her."

"Tell me what, you two?" Loren was glaring at them her jaw thrust out and her hands, no... her fists planted on her hips as he stood feet braced apart facing them.

"Uh, Loren, it's not going to happen... no... don't yell at me just yet. There's just too much stuff here to fit in the trailer."

"We'll just have to make two journeys then, it's only about ten or eleven miles!"

"Yes, but there's the time it's going to take to load it, and unload it, and it's a pretty long carry from the kerbside to the house isn't it?"

"Commander Keeter, don't tell me why it can't be done; just do it!"

Keeter looked helplessly at Harm who shrugged and spread his hands, "OK Gunny, you heard the Lieutenant, let's get started!"

"Aye, aye, sir! Alright you marines you heard; let's get moving!"

Half an hour of working under a barrage of criticism masquerading as advice was enough for Harm to call for a five minute break for the human chain that had been passing storage boxes hand-to-hand from the facility's container to the rented trailer. Strolling over to the 'vette where Alexandra had gained another potential pseudo-aunt who appeared to be fully prepared to spoil her, Harm placed a hand on Skates' shoulder and with a smile at Jen, murmured to his old RIO, "Come and walk with me for a moment."

Both Jen and Skates turned an inquiring eye towards him and he said, "Oh, well if you don't trust me..."

and squatting so that he was on the same level as Skates he said quite seriously, "We need you to do us all a huge favour, Beth."

"What favour?" she wanted to know "and who's 'us'?"

"'Us' is the guys that Loren is driving mad with her suggestions, advice and non-stop warnings to be careful with her stuff, and the favour is 'get her out of here'. I'm sure that she could be more profitably employed buying something, than she is here; she can't possibly have all her baby needs!"

"OK, I'll try, but we're going to have wait a while," Skates replied somewhat dubiously, "if I go marching up to her right after we've been talking, she's gonna smell a rat!"

Harm looked resigned as he sighed, "OK, have it your way, but don't leave it too long, please Beth."

Jen and Skates both giggled as he stood up to his full height and glared down at them, but the pathetic almost whine underlying his last words was just too funny for them to resist.

Jen watched Skates watching Harm walk away, "Any regrets," she asked the older woman, "Regrets about missed chances, maybe?"

Skates smiled, "Jen, there'll always be... maybe not regrets, but thoughts... sort of 'what if' type thoughts. I don't know about missed chances, I don't think there were ever any chances there to be missed... I don't think that Hammer ever saw me as a woman; I was his GIBS, another squadron mate, a flyer. And that's all there ever was between us. So, unless he changed his view of me, which he never did, then that's all there was ever going to be. I'll tell you Jen, that I never saw Harm look at me the way he looks at you all the time. Hell, I never saw him look at anybody the way he looks at you. There was always something closed off about him, but he feels more open now. You've done something to him Jen; I don't what you done, but you done good."

Jen digested Skates words, her eyes fixed on Alexandra as she gently rocked the baby in her arms. "Yeah," she said at last, "look I know you don't like talking about it, and I promise I'll never mention it again. But you did something pretty amazing for him once didn't you? You saved his life, I don't how you did it, and I don't care how you did it. I don't care if you did crawl all over him and warm him up, or... anything. And for that Elizabeth Hawkes, you will always be welcome in my home."

Skates grinned, embarrassed and made faintly uncomfortable by the praise and to lighten the atmosphere, said, "Yeah, it was kinda fun when I look back on it, but Jen it wasn't funny at the time, and I'm just so glad that he pulled through." She giggled at a memory, "Do you know the first thing he said to me when he came round? He said, 'I can't breathe!' Like I was too heavy!"

Jen looked at the small slim officer and then at her own rounder figure and smiled a very naughty smile and looking at Skates from under her eyelashes, said, "He never complained about that to me!"

Skates chuckled, "Are you corrupting the Hammer?"

"Well, someone had to!" Both women laughed.

Skates standing up and mopping her eyes, grinned and said, "Yeah, it's not enough that we have to corrupt them, now I gotta go and save them!"

A sweating Harm paused for a few second, ignoring a protesting "hey, sir!" from a muscular marine Pfc who'd nearly dislocated his shoulder in an attempt not to let go of the heavy box he had swung in the expectation of the Commander taking it off him. Harm's interest had been caught by the sight of Beth Hawkes arguing vigorously with Loren Singer, and although Loren could never be described as big or tall, the sight of the even smaller Skates facing up to Loren struck him as irresistibly funny.

Keeter stood next to Harm and watched the scene unfold as Loren threw up her hands in a gesture of surrender and followed Skates towards her battered old Volvo Estate. "Gotta hand to Skates, Keeter, she's come through for us again, and got Loren out our hair!"

"Yeah, she did," Keeter agreed, but with an abstracted tone in his voice and a far-away look in his eyes.

"Keeter, are you OK?" Harm asked with some concern, and turned to look keenly at his friend, "Keeter?" he repeated a bit more sharply when he'd received no reply.

"Huh? Oh, oh, yeah... fine..." Keeter finally replied distractedly, his eyes still looking at the gateway through which Skates' Volvo had just disappeared.

Harm looked again at his friend, in surprise, what was up with Keeter? And he followed the direction of his friend's gaze... towards the gate. What was so interesting about the gate? Then an idea occurred to him, but it was ridiculous, Jack Keeter and Skates? No, never in a thousand years. Apart from the fact that they were as different as chalk and cheese, Jack was a serial monogamist, moving on from date to date without ever looking back, while Skates, in all the time he'd known her, had had just two boyfriends, and both of those relationships had lasted for years; no it just wasn't possible. Harm literally gave himself a shake, and yelled, "OK, men, stand-to, let's get this sucker loaded!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm and Keeter sank to a sitting position on the grass in what was still Mrs Brovo's back yard, grateful for the shade provided by stone-clad wall of Loren's new home against which their backs were resting. They were flanked on either hand by Gunny Galindez and his marines, all of them were tired and covered in sweat and bruises, but their discomfort was alleviated by the bottle of ice-cold beer they each held.

Jack Keeter sighed and rolled his head around on his now-stiffening shoulders, "Thank the good Lord that's over!"

"Yeah," agreed Harm, his eyes fixed on a ladybug that was climbing a grass stem not more than six inches from his right foot, and then heaving a sigh and taking a sip of beer, he said, "and we get to do it all again next Saturday!"

Keeter turned to look at Harm with open disbelief in his eyes, "You have got to be freaking kidding me!"

"You wish. Nope, next week, it's mine and Jen's turn to load our stuff into a trailer and bring it all the way out here from Fourth Street."

"And you were planning to tell me this when?"

"I just did!"

It was Keeter's turn to take a swallow of beer, "Well, you can include me out for next weekend, pal, I got plans made."

"Oh, well if you've got _plan_s..." the condescension was almost visibly dripping off each syllable.

"Harm, don't, don't do this to me," Keeter groaned. "You're always doing this."

"Oh, OK, if you're really busy." Harm fell silent for a minute and then with an air of absentminded innocence, said, "I knew I forgot something! Did you ever tell Skates about the academy goat?"

"Why," asked Keeter with an assumption of unconcern, an unconcern that he definitely wasn't feeling, "would I bother about telling Skates about some dumb third year stunt at Annapolis?"

"Oh, I dunno, maybe because you're colleagues, and you work closely together, maybe because the only time we ever see you you're together, maybe because..."

"Just hold it up there a second, Perry Mason, the only reason you ever only see Skates and me together is because the only time we see you is when you invite us down, and when you invite me down, you invite Skates, and when you invite Skates, you invite me. You," he said slowly and distinctly, hammering home each word, "only ever invite us down here to DC at the same time!"

"Yeah, right."

Keeter shot him a suspicious glance. He knew what Rabb was hinting at, but it was something he wasn't prepared to talk about, or even face up to.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen stirred the contents of the huge saucepan and looked at it doubtfully. She'd followed the recipe faithfully but she was sure that the end result wasn't supposed to be this magma-like... substance, that occasionally made glooping noises as air bubbles forced themselves to the top and broke the surface tension. Tearing a strip from a soft tortilla she formed it into a makeshift spoon and dipped up a little of the sauce. Popping it into her mouth she thought this isn't too... Crap! Oh my God!

Her throat choked, her nose running and her eyes streaming tears, she turned towards Skates who was putting together a huge bowl of salad and croaked, "Help."

Skates whirled around to look at Jen, wondering what on earth had happened and then as she saw the half-eaten piece of sauce-soaked tortilla in Jen's hand and took in the tears running down her cheeks she sniggered.

Jen wheezed and sniffled and managed, "Skates, it's not funny! I can't serve this, it'll kill them!"

Skates snigger grew into a chuckle and finally into a full throated laugh which brought Loren across from the bedrooms at the other end of the dog-run, "Ssh, what's going on? I've only just got her to go down; for God's sake don't wake her... Jen... Jen... are you alright?" her scold turning to concern as she saw Jen's woe-begone and tear-tracked face.

Jen nodded, "Yes..." she tried, and after clearing her throat, tried again, "Yes, it's OK Loren, it's just that I think I blew the recipe; we can't serve this to the guys, and I feel so bad, we promised them a dinner!"

"How do you mean, blew the recipe?"

"I... I must have put too much chilli or maybe too much Tabasco in it; I just took a small drop of the sauce and nearly burned out every mucus membrane in my body!"

"H'mm tastes alright to me, and they are marines. You've probably got nothing to worry about," Skates reassured her, "but let's be on the safe side;" and raising her voice she called out, "Gunny! Can you give us a minute please?"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The bright sound of Skates' laughter that had carried to the bedrooms at the far end of the dog-run easily carried to the group of weary men still relaxing on the grass, and brought a sympathetic grin to more than one face as the listeners took pleasure in her obvious amusement.

"Skates always did have a filthy laugh," Harm noted non-committally.

"Yeah, well she's lucky she's still got the energy to laugh, she didn't have to bust her ba... her back today!"

"What? You think she had an easy duty day? Did you see that pile of bags and parcels that she unloaded from her car? Loren must have dragged her around every shopping mall in DC!"

Keeter look pityingly at his friend, "Harm, you're supposed to be the married man, you need to wise up on the female psyche before it's too late; what you and I call shopping, and hate as much as the devil hates holy water, they call retail therapy and they love it!"

Their further discussion was interrupted by Skates' "Gunny! Can you give us a minute please?"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Victor Galindez levered himself to his feet with a groan and disappeared into the kitchen cum living room end of the house, "Yes, ma'am?" he asked blinking as his eyes adjusted to the darker interior.

"Gunny, Coates is worried that she's messed up the chilli, can you just try a mouthful to see if your guys can still eat it?"

The Gunny smiled, "Ma'am, I can almost guarantee that those Jarheads will eat just about anything - as long as it isn't MREs! But, if you say so, ma'am, I'll give it a try."

Skates served a half spoonful onto a small plate handing it to him together with a fork and offered it to the marine to sample. Galindez dug his fork into the offering and blowing on it gently to cool it slightly he popped it into his mouth. He chewed slowly for a few seconds, while the three women, with varying degrees of interest or concern carefully watched his expression. The Gunnery Sergeant swallowed and then gave his verdict, "It's fine, Coates, a bit light on the peppers maybe, but the boys won't complain." And his usually impassive face cracked into a brief smile as he added, "Well, not if they know what's good for them they won't! Was that all, ma'am?"

"Yes, thank you Gunny" Skates replied, desperately trying to keep a straight face.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen looked at the empty over-sized pan. "I don't believe it, I just don't believe it," she said incredulously, "they ate it, they ate it all, and then they asked if there was any more. I felt like the beadle from Oliver Twist," she added with a disbelieving grin, "all I could do was just stand there with my mouth flapping open and say 'more?'

"Ah, you forgot one tiny little thing," said Skates, up to her elbows in soapy water, "You forgot what your Gunny told you, those Jarheads'll eat anything, just so long as it's not MREs!"

"Did somebody call my name, ma'am?" Gunny's head appeared around the door jamb.

"Yeah I suppose we did," grinned Skates, "but I was talking about you, not to you!"

"Ah, well ma'am, as long as you were talking about me, you were leaving everyone else alone, and I've got broad shoulders."

"What are you still doing here anyway, Gunny, I thought Commander Rabb told you to secure as soon as you and your marines, had eaten?" Loren asked him.

"That's what I was just coming to tell you ma'am. I've had my guys police the area, and we're just about to leave, so unless there's anything else needed ma'am, I'll say good night to you all!"

"Goodnight then, Gunny," Loren replied, "and pass the word to your marines please, to say thank you, we couldn't have squared all this away without their help today!"

"Yes, ma'am! The Commander's already thanked them though!"

Jen grinned, "How much Gunnery Sergeant?"

"Just a bottle a-piece Petty Officer!" Victor Galindez smiled at the three women and with a casually flipped half-salute was gone. As he settled behind the wheel of his Focus he smiled to himself, the Commander had been careful not to seek out the Petty Officer's company during the day, but he had eyes and a brain, and if the way those two had looked at each other hadn't been a big enough clue, the gold bands on their fingers had been sufficient evidence for him. They must have some kind of mojo working for them; he'd rarely seen anyone so contented as they were. And whatever it was they had, it seemed like it was contagious! When the Commander had called him yesterday evening and asked could he round up half a dozen or so guys to help Lieutenant Singer with a house move he had been dubious, and to say he'd been shaken by the change in her attitude would mostly like qualify for the understatement of the year award. He didn't actively dislike the blonde officer, but she could be tricky to work with, but today, although she had fussed a bit until Lieutenant Hawkes had dragged her away to do some shopping she hadn't been sharp or snappish about it; she'd sounded like his eldest sister complaining that he and his brother in law couldn't do anything right without her supervision. He didn't quite understand, either how Lieutenant Singer fitted in with the Commander, and the Petty Officer, it was plain that there was some sort of tie-in but he was damned if he could figure out what it was.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen, Skates and Loren were in the last throes of squaring away the kitchen when Harm and Keeter, carrying a tool box, entered from the bedroom wing, "All fixed Loren, Miss Rabb's new crib is all set up in her room, and with no more than three cusswords and one pinched finger between the pair of us!" he added proudly.

"Well done, Jack!" Skates congratulated him.

"Uh, yeah thanks" he mumbled. The trouble was Keeter thought as he eyed her doubtfully, he could never tell when the woman was serious or joking or outright teasing him. Looking at her now she was perfectly straight faced, but there was glint in her eye that might mean she was ribbing him after all.

She almost laughed at the confused expression on his face, and looking around for the others to share her amusement she saw that while Keeter still looked baffled, Harm Jen and Loren were looking at her strangely, speculatively, and then when Loren and Jen exchanged a... a... a look of some kind, she felt her cheeks grow warm, and once again blessing her ancestors for her dark complexion, she turned to Keeter and said, "Jack, we ought be getting on our way, Loren must be exhausted, and Jen and Harm have still got to drive home too."

Harm was about to come out in support of Skates when Loren and Jen chimed in,

"Oh, no, I'm not tired at all!"

"Yes, the night's still young, and you said you don't got duty tomorrow!"

Harm hadn't missed the quick look that Loren and Jen had shared in the second before they had spoken and was becoming uneasily aware that he had stumbled across some feminine stratagem that was not only baffling him, but was also beginning to make him nervous. A quick glance at Keeter revealed that he too was all at sea.

"Yeah, I... I know... we d... don't got duty," stuttered Skates, "but I know that Jack must be tired, and I guess I am too... a little."

"Yeah," gulped Keeter who didn't know what was happening except that Skates wanted to leave and when she'd looked at him, the appeal in those dark eyes was irresistible, "Skates is right, we do need to be on our way, we got a tough week ahead so we'd best get rested up ahead of it. And I've been told that I've got a tough weekend coming up next week and all!"

"Yep, Keeter's very kindly agreed to come and help us move house next weekend Jen."

Jen moved around the table and stretching up onto her toes kissed Keeter very lightly on the cheek, "Jack that is so very kind of you! Thank you!"

"Yes", Loren agreed, moving to his other side and likewise giving him a light kiss on his other cheek, "and thank you so much for helping us today Jack!"

Harm stared in amused astonishment as Jack Keeter, the scourge of the female BOQ in almost every station he had been assigned was reduced to a hurried, almost panic-stricken, "Yeah, you're right Skates, c'mon, let's get goin'! See you guys next weekend!"

"Yeah, see you! Goodnight" Skates seconded Keeter as the two of them fled the scene.

As soon as they were out of earshot, both Jen and Loren collapsed back onto their kitchen chairs and laughed. Harm was quite prepared to enjoy their amusement even when he didn't understand the cause, but he couldn't help but be curious.

"What just happened there?" he asked.

"Oh," Loren chanted through her sobs of laughter, "Beth and Jack sitting in a tree..."

"K - I - S - S - I - N - G!" Jen finished off for her.

Harm felt and looked astonished, "Well, I thought I saw earlier that Keeter was looking at Skates in a... in a way that sort of said he might be interested... but Skates being in to Jack? No way!"

Jen looked at Harm with just a touch of wifely scorn, "I tried to tell you last week after the reception."

"You did?"

"Well I asked if you had noticed how many time they'd danced together!"

"I don't remember that!"

"No, you wouldn't - you fell asleep halfway through the conversation, and without telling me!" she said darkly, but again the gleam in her eyes betrayed that she wasn't serious, well at least he hoped that's what it meant. But Harm was well aware that the beautiful woman he'd married could be pretty unpredictable - and he had the scar to prove it!

"No... "Jen said thoughtfully, "I guess they haven't got to that stage... yet, but there's something in the way Skates looks at Jack, she's not in love with him, yet, but there's a certain flicker of interest... Loren?"

"Yeah, it's like she's weighing him up... trying to figure out if he's worth taking a chance on."

"Oh, in that case," Harm commented, and with a strange feeling of relief, "I'd bet there won't be any tree-sitting." And in response to the scrutiny of two pairs of eyes, one pair ice-blue, and the other chocolate brown, he tried to explain what he meant, "Skates is not a risk taker, in all the time I've known her, she's been into long term steady relationships; Jack Keeter is a guy who plays the field, he dates lots of women, not at the same time, he doesn't do that, but one after the other, in quick succession."

Loren looked slightly troubled at Harm's summing up, and said "That doesn't make him sound very reliable."

Harm reflected and reluctantly half-agreed,"No... it doesn't, at least not as far as his dating habits go, but in every other way, Jack Keeter is as solid as rock. If he's your friend you know that he'll be there when needed, so if he and Skates are only friends, then she's got at least two friends for life!"

"The other being you?" Jen asked mischievously.

"Yeah," Harm replied soberly, his mind flashing back to that cold, cold night in sick quarters on the _Patrick Henry. _"The other being me."

Jen picked up immediately on the dark note in his voice and said hurriedly, "Oh... I know that you're friends, and I know why that will never change, and Harm, you know that I would never want you to make that change."

"Yeah, Harm muttered getting to his feet. "Loren, in a strange way Keeter was right; I guess I am a little more tired than I thought, so unless you have any heavy lifting you need doing right now, I guess we'll head on out..."

Loren had picked up on the subtly changed atmosphere and smiled, and said, "No, we're good here, I'm just going to sit and wait for Alexandra to call for her supper, and then I'm good for my rack too." She grinned in an attempt to lighten the mood, "Jen, these men have no idea just how tiring retail therapy can be! But thank you Harm for arranging Gunny's crew, and thank you both or coming out here today and helping us move to our new home." A sudden thought struck the blonde, "That's what this place is, home... and it's the first one I've..." she hurriedly broke off, blinking her eyes free of the tears that had so quickly gathered, and realising that she was on the verge of betraying secrets that she didn't want anyone else to hear.

"Well, if you're sure, Loren... I guess we'll leave you to it." Jen said, stooping to give the blonde a goodnight kiss on her forehead.

"Yep," Harm's renewed cheerfulness was slightly forced, but he continued in the same tone, "we'll pick you up at ten-hundred hours tomorrow, and we can all drive up to the airport together, to say 'bye to mom and Frank!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

It was just over an hour later that Harm lay in bed appreciatively watching the play of Jen's smooth muscles under her soft skin as she shrugged out of her bathrobe and pulled on one of his old squadron T-shirts before she slid under the covers and squirmed her way across the bed towards him so she could take up her favourite position with her head on his shoulder.

"You know," she murmured her eyes fixed on her hand that was lazily tracing a circular path on his chest, "You don't have to tread carefully around me, about whatever might have happened between you and Skates in the past. I don't care what she did that night they pulled you out of the ocean," she added fiercely," I only thank her and God that she did what she did and she saved you for me!"


	25. Leaving on a Jet Plane

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 25  
>Leaving on A Jet Plane<strong>

"We," he panted as he rolled over on his back "are going to be _soo _late - and it's all your fault!"

"How does that work?" She protested, rolling on to an elbow to glare at him, "You started this!"

"Two counts," he said as he fought to bring his breathing back under control, "One: You are incredibly beautiful and you turn me on just by being here," she smiled in pure pleasure at his words, "and two: you didn't even _try _to stop me!"

"Now just _why_ would I want to do that?" she challenged him, her laughter bubbling just under the surface.

He turned on to his elbow, facing her and with a move far too swift for her to counter he pinned her shoulders back on to the mattress and kissed her thoroughly. "Because if you don't start stopping me, then we are not going to make it to Falls Church in time to pick up Loren and Sasha, nor to the airport in time to say goodbye to mom and Frank."

"H'mm, you've got a point… a dumb point… but still a point," she teased as she squirmed free of his grasp, threw the covers off and rolled out of bed, and then standing, walked across the bedroom to the bathroom door.

Harm looked at her, he loved the way she moved, and he loved watching the muscles in her butt tense and relax as she crossed the room, and he loved the way the cool air made her…

"Dammit!" He groaned, "Will you _please_ put some clothes on!"

She looked back over her shoulder, a broad grin plastered across her face, "Oh, but I thought you liked me like this?" she said in a mock-plaintive voice and then thrust her lower lip out in an equally obviously false pout.

"Oh, I do, I do… but you know what effect you have on me… and if we play around anymore, then we won't get to Dulles before mom and Frank get to San Diego!"

Her delighted laughter trailing behind her Jennifer Rabb stepped into the bathroom and in a few moments Harm heard the shower run. Rolling out of bed, he pulled on a pair of boxers and followed his wife into the bathroom, where if he stood at a slight angle to the wash-stand while he brushed his teeth, he could see her, admittedly shower-stall blurred, reflection in the mirror as she twisted and turned under the jet of water.

Jen's time aboard ship had taught her how to shower quickly when she needed to, and out of consideration for how long it would take to dry her hair, she had donned a shower cap this morning presenting to even his non-critical eye a faintly amusing appearance, but he had already learned not to let his amusement at that particular picture become evident; his efforts this morning to disguise amusement being most capably aided and abetted by the working of his toothbrush. Stepping out if the shower and wrapping a huge, blue and fluffy bath sheet around herself, Jen looked across at Harm and with a mischievous twinkle asked him in her most innocent voice, "Shall I turn the hot water all the way off, or just the cold all the way up?"

Harm's reaction to his wife's suggestion was to glower at her silently all through breakfast and the subsequent drive to Falls Church, his disposition not helped by Jan breaking into giggles each time they caught each other's eye. His surliness was readily apparent to Loren, herself no stranger to the mood and cocking her head towards Harm, she raised an interrogative eyebrow to Jen, who grinned in return and mouthed "cold shower time" at her. Loren's outbreak of giggles earned her a menacing glare from Harm, the only effect of which was to cause Jen and Loren to break out into renewed laughter. Harm was further frustrated by the length of time it seemed that the two women were taking over the simple task of buckling the baby seat back into the rear seat of the Lexus, but his somewhat brusque offer to help was turned down by a chilly stare from Loren, and a muttered, "Cheek of it! Anyone would think he didn't trust us to get it right!"

Harm was thinking just that, but, remembering just how awkward an unhappy Loren Singer could be and how mad an unhappy Jennifer Rabb could be, he decided to let them slide on that one, and keep quiet.

Trish Burnett had woken early and with characteristic efficiency and some subtle encouragement - 'nagging' as Frank grumblingly described her process - had ensured that they both were up, showered, dressed and last minute packing completed before she suggested that it was time that they made their way to the hotel restaurant for breakfast. Trish was unusually silent during and immediately after the meal, but after nearly four decades of marriage Frank knew that it wouldn't be too long before she gave voice to whatever was bothering her.

He was surprised however when she'd waited until they had checked out of the hotel and were in the rental car heading out to Dulles Airport, until she spoke, "Frank?"

"Uh-huh?"

"You don't mind about Loren and Alexandra, do you?"

"Mind in what way, honey?"

"Well, when Loren told me that Alexandra's father was a Rabb, I just automatically assumed that it was Harm, and I think," she added shrewdly, "you believed that same thing."

"Yeah… If I thought about it at all - and I'm not admitting that I did… I guess I did."

"But are you alright with it? I mean it was one thing to take them under my wing while I thought Alexandra was my granddaughter, but am I being fair in asking you to put up with a child who is my first husband's grandchild and has nothing to do with me, at all?"

Frank risked a quick sideways look at his wife before returning his full attention to the road, "D'you know, Trish that has never, ever occurred to me? When we went to see Loren, it was so obvious that she was worried sick and at the end of her tether and that she needed help. There wasn't anybody else to help, so you stepped up to the plate for her. I've loved you ever since we first met…"

"Oh, Frank!" she protested with a blush, "please…"

"No, let me finish, Trish. As I was saying, I loved you from the moment we met, and over all our years together you have done so much to me make so very proud of you. But I have never loved you more or been more proud of you than when you turned around in that shabby little apartment Loren was living in, and you said to her, 'You young lady are coming with us!', and no matter how she raged, and stormed, you were so completely together, and so determined, and so logical and dammit, you out-argued a US Navy JAG, a professional attorney! I fell in love with you all over again! And then, Alexandra arrived, and I fell in love with her. It doesn't matter that she's not my blood, there's more to being a parent or grandparent than just biology. So, my darling Patricia, I have no quarrel with you adopting Loren and Alexandra, but I sure as hell will have one if you ever try and stop me looking after them!"

Trish looked across at her husband, and searched his face, but she couldn't be sure he didn't have tears in his eyes; her own were too misty to make out his face with any certainty. But, she consoled herself, if she was still a bit teary when they met Harm, Jen and Loren, and of course, she smiled, Frank's favourite granddaughter, she could always blame it on having to say goodbye.

Harm's ears were burning, Loren and Jen had been totally merciless in their teasing; he was not only outnumbered, but to all intents and purposes he was helpless, having to focus his concentration on the Beltway traffic, the navigation through which was always a nerve-wracking ordeal but even more on a Saturday morning when the weekday commuters were augmented, and even to some extent replaced, by Mom Dad and 2.3 kids burbling along to the next off-ramp to hit the supermarket for the weekly shop. But even though the two women in his life, his wife and his… sister-in-law… no, Loren wasn't that, but she wasn't really a friend, either, then a wicked grin crossed his face, he had the perfect description… if she would go for it. "Loren, what," he interrupted one of Jen's comments as to the magnitude of his cuteness when his ears went red, "would you say was the nature of our relationship?"

He had the immense satisfaction of silencing both women and managed to catch a glimpse in the rear view mirror of a look of astonishment on Loren's face as his question came hurtling right out of the blue.

"I… I… I'm n…not sure wh… what you me.. mean." She stuttered after a good thirty seconds of stunned silence.

"Well, I was just trying to sort out - in my own mind - who you are, how you fit into my, into our, lives," he vague gesture indicated that he included Jen in his 'our'. "Don't get me wrong Loren, I love having you here with us, I love that you're our neighbour, I really love what you said the other day, about Jen being more of a sister to you than you had experienced with your own family. You see, Alexandra's easy to recognise, she's my brother's child, my niece, but I don't know where I stand with you… I don't want to cause you any more pain than Sergei has already done, but he's our only other link. If he'd been a man and stood by you, you'd be my sister in law, and I guess that's somehow still the way I think of you, but apart from that I'd really like to think of us as friends as well." He paused for a few seconds, but before she had a chance to respond, he continued, "Wow! Where did that suddenly come from?" He looked up into the rear-view mirror, to see a slightly shocked expression on her face. "Loren, I had started this out to be a tease, to label you as my sister out law, or something in that order, but somewhere along the line, it stopped being funny. I know you're not really my sister in law, but would you be my friend, please?"

Loren's blue eyes filled with tears and her throat closed; just as Harm has already said, she wondered where that had come from. She and Jen had been teasing Harm and making ever so slightly off-colour _double entendres_ all the way round the Beltway, and when he had started his speech she had been sure that he was about to counter their teasing with some of his own, and the sudden switch from banter to gravity had not only taken her by surprise but had had an emotional impact that went beyond the words he had used. Although they had never been close as colleagues, she had gained much cynical enjoyment from watching the dance that he and Mac had performed, and had known that much of the failure to communicate between Lieutenant Colonel and Commander had been Harm's reluctance, verging on his inability to express his feelings. Now, by asking for her friendship, he had exposed himself, made himself vulnerable to the hurt of a possible rejection, and Loren found herself not wanting to reject him and not wanting to hurt him. Even the few seconds that she needed to unclog her throat had shown how much he had risked, his face had started to assume a defensive mask-like aspect as he fought his own battle to avoid showing hurt.

Loren made a vague gesture with one hand even as she tried to convey a response by means of a water-logged smile, and desperately tried to free her suddenly paralysed vocal cords, "Of… course… I'll be your friend… how could I not be your friend, when you, and everybody, have been such good friends to Alexandra and I? And…" she continued, with a blush, "I very much like the idea of being your sister… it's something that I thought I was when you said welcome to your family… I guess it's something that I should have said a while ago… and I'm sorry that I didn't…"

Loren Singer had built her defensive walls so high and so thick and so long ago, that she had almost become the person that she portrayed to the rest of the world, and she'd had to struggle to admit to herself the feelings of acceptance and friendship and comfort that had developed within herself during her acquaintance with the Burnett and Rabb family and had been subjected to the openness, generosity and yes, even love which had been showered upon her and her child, and now when she so badly needed words to try and explain her thoughts and feelings she could find none.

Jen twisted in her seat so that she could see her husband's face in profile and by looking over her left shoulder she could look Loren squarely in the face. Although she was beginning to know Harm better, she realised that it would take years before she fully understood him, that is, if she ever did, but she already knew that he must be laboring under a tremendous degree of emotion just to be able to come out and ask for… for… for, what exactly? On the surface it seemed that he had asked for Loren's friendship, but he already had that, so what_ was_ he asking for? Then the answer struck her, he'd been waiting for _Loren_ to acknowledge that they had, through Trish and Frank's de facto adoption of Alexandra, and so necessarily that of Loren also, become part of an extended family. And that it would be up to Jen to fill her part of the unspoken bargain between Harm and her, and take Loren and Alexandra up to Belleville to meet Grams Sarah. That, she resolved, was something that she would do weekend after next. She smiled as she visualized Harm's protest over the two women making the unaccompanied trek, and then the welcome she was certain they would get from Grams Sarah. In the meantime, there was Trish and Frank to be bidden a farewell.

The Lexus pulled into Dulles Airport parking lot and although it was the work of seconds for the adults to de-bus. extricating Alexandra from the cat's cradle of seat belts in which Jen and Loren had trussed the car-seat took more than just a couple of minutes, and a particularly ripe oath from Jen as she snagged and broke a finger nail.

A plea for assistance addressed to Harm almost made his day, as smiling beatifically, he replied in sanctimonious accents, "Oh, no, ladies; you got this into a tangle all by yourselves, my help - although freely offered was declined, and declined quite impolitely. Nope, you got yourselves into this," and with a wide grin and crossed arms he leaned back against the car and continued, "so you can get yourselves out."

Loren and Jen regarded him for several moments with every sign of deepest loathing, while he continued to observe their activities with benevolent disinterest.

"Men!" Loren exclaimed in exasperation.

"Yep!" Jen's agreement was whole-hearted.

Eventually Alexandra was extricated from her impromptu prison and a broadly grinning Harm and a furiously scowling Loren and Jen crossed the stretch of asphalt as they headed for the departures lounge.

Frank and Trish had arrived before their three well-wishers and had kept an anxious eye on the clock and an ear open for the 'passengers to proceed' announcement, so the easily identifiable figure of Harm as his height loomed over the heads of most of the crowd brought sighs of relief from both.

With their baggage already checked in, there was nothing for the travellers to do but wait to be called forward for their flight so when Frank suggested that they have a final cup of coffee together, there seemed to be no good reason not to go along with the idea. The conversation at the coffee table was, however, somewhat stilted as regret for an impending departure wove its insidious way around and through the talk.

At last, and to some half-ashamed feelings of relief, the PA system called for passengers for San Diego to make their way to the departure lounge gate for final security checks.

A round of hugs and kisses followed and finally ended with admonitory words from Trish, "…and If he gives you any trouble Jen, you get hold of me right away, and I'll be back out here to give him all sorts of hell so fast, it'll make his head spin. And you, Harmon Rabb, you take very good, extra special care of this young lady - do you hear there?"

"Aye, aye, ma'am!"

Frank was not about to be outdone by his wife in the matter of last minute warnings and advice, so folding Loren and Alexandra into his arms, he kissed them both and said earnestly to Loren, "If either of these two give _you_ any trouble, Loren, you just get straight on the 'phone to me and I'll be back on the next flight, to make 'em an offer they can't refuse!"

As Trish and Frank made their way across the concourse, Harm slipped his arm around Jen's waist and silently sighed in satisfaction as she leaned in to his embrace, and then aware of Loren standing at his other side he casually draped his arm across her back and gently squeezed her shoulder. After a startled glance at him, and much to his surprise, she smiled and momentarily releasing Alexandra with one hand, she raised it to cover his and gave it a gentle squeeze in return.

Looking back as they were about to go through the security channel, Trish saw them standing in that position, and with a catch of breath in her throat, she whispered, "Frank, look at them!"

Frank stopped and turned and seeing Jen, Harm and Loren standing united as a family, gave them a half wave and turning back to Trish said, "Yep, Patricia Burnett, you done good!"

At just about the same time as Trish and Frank were saying goodbye to their suddenly super-sized family, Commander Jack Keeter was sitting in the Commissary at the BX at Andrews Joint Air Facility. He was nursing a cup of coffee, uneasily aware that the contents of the pot in front of him were cooling with each passing minute, and making repeated checks of the time as shown not only on his wrist watch, but also on the huge clock hanging on the wall over the server counter. After the twentieth check in ten minutes he breathed a sigh of relief and rose to his feet as Beth Hawkes approached the table.

"Good, morning, Miss Hawkes… er… Commander…"

Skates regarded him quizzically, she had enjoyed spending time in his company yesterday, but spending that time together had been the natural result of Harmon Rabb asking them both for help in moving Loren Singer, and although he was polite and reasonably friendly on watch, or if they bumped into each other off-watch on or around base, he'd never before made a point of calling her room in BOQ and inviting her to meet for a coffee. Although she'd said yes, she had very nearly decided not to come and her dithering had made her at least a quarter of an hour late, yet here he was, welcoming her with what seemed to be a genuine smile and never a syllable of censure for her tardiness… and strangely tongue-tied, it appeared.

She was further surprised and as a result shot him a suspicious glare as he held her chair for her as she sat down, and then re-taking his own seat poured her a cup of coffee. Later she was to think back and realise that while he did those infuriatingly patronizing man-things, he didn't make a song and dance about them, but did them quietly and unassumingly, as if they were the most natural thing in the world.

And then infuriatingly having asked her to join him for coffee he was just sitting there, not only not speaking to her, but not looking her in the eye either, almost as if he were… _Oh. My. God!_ He can't be shy! Not Jack Keeter. Not the scourge of the Zoomies' female BOQ. It was just not possible, no way, no how. But if not that, what the hell was he playing it?

"Commander," she said in severe tones, "Against my better judgement, I've let you drag me away from a personal admin day, just for a cup of commissary coffee?"

"Uh… no, well… I hope not… It's kinda like, I really enjoyed yesterday, an' as we're working together an' we're both friends of Harm an' Jen now of course, I thought it might be not a bad idea, if we got to know each other, a little… er… better, off watch."

"What did you have in mind?" she demanded with a fair degree of suspicion, fixing his pale eyes with her own deep brown ones and idly running a finger-tip around the rim of her coffee mug while supporting her chin with her free hand.

"Oh, I dunno, really, maybe, a drink and a game of pool, or take in a movie, or maybe just get a bite to eat off-base…"

"What? Like a date, you mean?"

"Oh, no! Hell, no! Oh… Umm, I didn't mean it to sound like that," he protested weakly and with the shadow of a sick grin passing over his face while his ears flamed crimson, "No, not like that. We can't go on a date, we're different ranks, in the same chain of command, hell we even stand the same watches, no what I meant was… I'm babbling and think I'll shut up now, shall I?" he stumbled into silence as the same weak grin made a fleeting reappearance, as his eyes took on an expression that she thought looked exactly like that of a rabbit caught in a car's headlights.

Skates almost had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from laughing outright. Poor Keeter, if she laughed at him now, it would be the cruellest thing she could ever possibly do to him, but the bubble of amusement at his predicament would only allow her to say "OK."

"Yeah, well, then… I'll just shut up then…" Keeter drained his coffee and made to stand up but was stopped by Skates asking, as she got her amusement under control, "OK, then when and where?"

Keeter almost fell back into his chair, "When and where?" he repeated helplessly, "Do you mean…?"

"I mean yes, let's go out on a non-date and have a beer and shoot some pool, or go to the movies or eat out at fancy restaurant, or some greasy spoon diner. But where and when?"

"Uh, how about tonight, say a couple of beers at the Rhode Island Rooster, while we check out what's coming up at the movies…?"

"Yeah, sounds like a plan. Pick me up at Navy BOQ at nineteen hundred hours, if that's OK?" Skates said as she stood up, and aware that she was vaguely irritated as he too stood.

"Yes, ma'am," Keeter replied, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and the knot that he hadn't even known he had in his stomach unravelled.


	26. Biting the Bullet

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 26  
>Biting the Bullet<strong>

Harm debated whether or not to offer his assistance in securing Alexandra's car seat for the journey back to Falls Church. He had gained considerable amusement as well as some measure of revenge for the merciless teasing that Jen and Loren had subjected him to on the drive out to the airport, but the knowledge that they knew just how much amusement he had derived from their struggle to free Alexandra from the seat belt made him leery of offering to help. Fishing in his pocket for the keys to the Lexus, he pressed the fob's de-activate button and watched as the vehicle lights flashed to show that it was now unlocked, and as they approached the car, he lengthened his stride to be able to open the rear door before the women and baby reached the vehicle.

As the two approached, Alexandra carried between them; he coughed cautiously, and asked, "Er, would you like me to have a go at securing her seat?" His voice was as non-committal as the blandest of bland facial expressions he had assumed.

His diffidence brought him only two perfectly matching scowls of suspicion in return, and Jen's comment, "Watch him, Loren, he's up to something!"

"Well, if he is, then tell me what!"

"I don't know... but definitely something..."

"Well!" Loren tutted impatiently, "you ought to know, after all he's_ your_ husband!"

"Oh, yes," Jen sighed happily, her smile taking on an appearance of overall contentment, "he is, isn't he?"

"Traitor!" Loren muttered, but her own smile, and the softening of her eyes was enough to show anyone with half a brain cell that she wasn't being serious, and not much to her surprise she found herself handing Alexandra and car seat to Harm and then standing back as she and Jen watched him buckle her baby into securely into place.

Harm decided it was time to make amends for his teasing, well almost, anyway, and letting a full-power flyboy smile light up his face, he said, "Ya know, I figure I'm one of the luckiest men in the world today."

Jen's deep brown eyes met Loren's ice-blue ones and then turning back to meet her husband's gaze she said, "Oh, yeah, do tell."

"Well," he expounded, determined not to stray into anything too profound this time, "I have five favourite women in the whole world, and right now, I'm here with three of them. Life just doesn't get much better than that!" He sighed deeply and beamed at both women.

Loren was about to make a snappy come-back, when she recalled the conversation that had so unexpectedly turned so serious on their way to the airport and reconsidered, the goof-ball really meant it! Well, he was only married a week, so his feelings towards Jen were only right and proper; Alexandra was his niece, so there again that was perfectly understandable, but he'd included her too, and for the life of her she couldn't help feeling pleased that he had!

Still, she couldn't let him get away with too much! He and his family had successfully handled her for the past two months, right down to telling her where to live! Um, no, well, actually, she had been the one who'd made that decision. Yeah, but they'd _pressured _her into making that decision! So, yes, she did have, or so she reasoned, sufficient grounds for a comeback. But it mustn't be too harsh!

"Sap!" she muttered through her smile

Jen had been watching for Loren's reaction to her husband's declaration and had followed Loren's thought process with a fair degree of accuracy, and if she'd made a bet with herself as to the nature of Loren's reply she'd have won. Climbing into the front passenger seat she allowed herself a grin of self-congratulation, a grin that Harm picked up on as he fastened his seat belt. He said nothing, merely cocking an eyebrow at her. In return she just smiled in what she hoped was an enigmatic fashion and mouthed 'later' at him.

The drive back to Falls Church was accompanied by shared memories of what Trish had said, or what Frank had done, but all in a spirit of good-humoured memory to the extent that when Harm said, "You know, it was great having Mom and Frank here for all that time, but, do you know something? It's actually a relief to get them on their way back to La Jolla..." both Jen and Loren were about to indignantly refute his comment, when they both realised that Harm was right. They looked at each other ruefully, and made the unspoken acknowledgement that with his parents gone home, they could, if not exactly relax, at least not have to take into account their entertainment, or the need to schedule meetings and lunches or dinners with them.

That thought kick-started Loren's memory, "Umm..." she began uncertainly, and then as Jen twisted in her seat to look at her, she caught Harm's eye in the rear-view mirror, "Look, I know we were just saying, how relaxing it is not to have to worry about making arrangements and taking other people's plans into consideration... but..."

"Go on, Loren," Jen encouraged her.

"Well, Alexandra's getting quite good at sleeping through now, and she doesn't usually wake up until the early morning. This morning's wake up, though, was a little too early, wasn't it, you monster?" She gently tickled her dozing baby's tummy as she addressed the last remark to her. "Anyway, she woke up at about oh-five-thirty hours this morning, and by the time I'd fed her, bathed her and changed her, it was too late to go back to bed, so..."

"So...?" Harm asked.

"So, I madelunchforallofusandIhopeit'sok", Loren finished in a slightly red-faced rush.

Both Harm and Jen laughed out loud, which not only made Alexandra stir, but threatened to ignite Loren's temper until a few seconds thought made her realise that they weren't laughing at her, but rather at the absurdity of the situation.

Still chuckling, the three of them and Alexandra de-bussed with no trouble, Harm benignly pointing out just how easy it was to disengage the car seat if it had been installed properly in the first place. He found his observations amply rewarded when he was left to bring the diaper bag and the rest of Alexandra's paraphernalia while the two women - unburdened with the exception of Alexandra - almost raced ahead to the side entrance to the yard and then on down to what they were already calling the ranch-house.

As he trudged after them Harm was struck by a thought. He stopped and looked back at the kerbside, and then across to the far side of the main house to the garage and the gravel apron in front of it, and then at the side gate to the yard. While he had had no problem toting the diaper bag, Alexandra's slightly soggy stuffed duck and the plastic sack with her soiled diaper in it, he reflected that Loren, perhaps tired after shopping, trying to deal with a possibly fractious infant, diaper bag and shopping might not find the walk from kerbside to ranch-house quite so trouble free. The same of course might well apply to Jen firstly as she became more awkward on her feet and then after the birth of their own child. A more than ordinarily sappy grin crossed his face at that thought and almost made him forget that he needed to broach the idea he'd had to both of the women in his life.

Shaking his head at just how sappy he had become, he pushed through the gate and contemplated the length of the back yard, adding that to the distance he had already computed from the kerbside. Yep, that settled it. He might have to check the zoning regulations, but it looked like a car wide strip of the front yard was about to sacrificed in order for access to the gate, and certainly a second mail box needed to be put in place. Well, those were priority jobs for next weekend, after he and Jen had finished moving their goods and chattels from DC.

When he arrived at the ranch-house, he found that his three best girls as he referred to them were already setting up in the shade of the dog-run that connected the two parts of the building. A garden table - and where had that come from? - had been placed between the two built-in benches and Loren was placing a large pitcher of iced tea and four glasses on the table, while Jen transferred Alexandra from the car seat to her porta-crib.

"Four glasses, Loren?" Harm queried, as he slid the diaper bag off his shoulder, and deposited the stuffed duck in the porta crib, "are we expecting company?"

Loren merely nodded over his shoulder and he half-turned to see Mrs Brovo crossing the yard towards them. Harm stood as she approached and greeted her, "Good afternoon, ma'am."

"Good afternoon, Commander, ladies." She surveyed them with dark brown eyes, which somehow also appeared to be bright. "Firstly, my apologies for not being around to welcome you yesterday, dear," she said to Loren, "but with all the fuss and hoo-raw of marching in, I figured you'd welcome at least one less piece of interference. I do hope that all went well, and that you are now comfortable, although I'm sure it will take a little while to get really settled in. So, I took the day and I went to visit an old friend up in McLean." She cast a shrewd look at Harm, "Apparently, he thinks very highly of you, and he had some pretty nice things to say about you too, young lady," she added looking at Jen.

Harm, Jen and Loren stared at Mrs Brovo for some seconds, before Jen whispered, "A J? Uh... I mean Admiral Chegwidden?"

Mrs Brovo then grinned, a positively wicked grin, "I'm afraid I can neither confirm nor deny that supposition, Mrs Rabb," she said primly, but with a devil of mischief dancing in her eyes.

Loren twinkled at Mrs Brovo's teasing, "And can you either confirm or deny that you're ready for lunch, Mrs Brovo?"

"Oh, I can confirm that, dear. After all that's why you invited me, and I accepted!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm briskly dried his head and pulling on a clean pair of boxers, left the bathroom for the bedroom, draping the damp towel carefully over the heater rail. Jennifer was lying in bed, the comforter pulled up over her breasts but her bare shoulders hinting that she was wearing rather less than she normally wore to bed, He stopped just inside the doorway and flashed her his mega-watt smile, "Mrs Rabb, do I detect from what appears to be your lack of attire, that you have some sort of carnal entertainment in mind for the balance of this evening?"

Jen grinned back impishly, but her reply dripped innocence from every syllable, "Well, no, I hadn't really made any sort of plans for any sort of entertainment... well not like that anyway. But, I have been reading this..." she held up a slim pamphlet, "It's all about the mother and baby bonding process."

Harm looked at her blankly as he crossed the bedroom and lifting the comforter slid into bed next to her. He turned on his side and propped himself on an elbow while he waited for Jen to adopt a mirror-image position, and then reaching out, he brushed one of her beautiful, long tresses behind her ear, and said, "Jen, you don't need to worry about bonding with our baby. You are a natural, an instinctive, mother. Anyone has only to see you with Alexandra to know that you are going to be a great Mom."

She kept her grin in place, "Oh, I hope so," she answered him, "but I was looking here at this section on Kangaroo care..."

Harm looked at Jen, half-frowning and half-smiling, not altogether sure that she wasn't setting him up somehow. After a few seconds of his scrutiny, Jen giggled. Harm grinned in reply, confident now that he had if not seen through her trick, at least successfully detected that there was one.

"OK, give. What's the catch?" he demanded.

"No... No, there's no catch, look..." Jen hitched herself a bit nearer so that their foreheads were practically touching, and pushed the pamphlet almost under his nose. Yep, there it was, a bold-printed paragraph heading 'Kangaroo Care'.

"OK. You got me. What exactly is this marsupial mothering?" Despite his flippant words, he was becoming interested.

"Well, it relies on maximum skin contact," Jen explained, "absolutely nothing between the mother's skin and the baby's skin. Apparently it really helps with bonding, especially if the baby is reluctant to take to the mother's breast. Mom can carry the baby round in safety, and if baby wants to feed then it's at his or her convenience."

"So... would that mean you'd be wandering around virtually topless...?" Harm demanded lazily, but with an anticipatory gleam in his eye.

"Ummm... uh... yeah," Jen replied just slightly breathlessly.

"And the baby would have full, total and complete access... here?"

"Ummm" it was no more than a breath.

"And here?"

"Ohhh, yes..." and that, thought Harm with a wicked grin, is definitely a sigh.

"Well," then said Harm rolling on to his back, "I think it's a damn' good idea!"

"Harm!" Jen protested indignantly.

"Yes, dear?" he answered, in all innocence.

"Oh, come here, you infuriating man!"

Much later, as Jen lay with her head on her favourite pillow listening to the slowing beat of his heart, Harm squinted down at her and asked, "All ready to face the lions tomorrow, Mrs Rabb?"

"Grrr!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The alarm clock woke them at oh-six-hundred hours and Harm bolted into the bathroom while Jen set the coffee brewing and sliced bread for toast. By the time the coffee had brewed, Harm was out of the shower, and water droplets running down his chest and back and wearing only a towel around his waist was busily engaged in shaving as Jen slipped into the shower, again, he noted, with a shower cap covering her glorious hair.

By the time Jen had finished in the shower, he was sitting on the side of the bed, fully dressed and tying his shoe laces. He stopped what he was doing, while he took in what was becoming his most favourite sight in the world. Jen had slipped off her bathrobe, and totally nude was sitting at her makeshift dressing table and with a frown of ferocious concentration was braiding her hair in preparation for going back to work. Catching his expression in the mirror, her frown dissolved into a smile of pure happiness, "See anything you like, sailor?"

"I like everything I see," he retorted, her happiness having its effect on his own mood.

"Yes..., so do I, I think," she said, standing and turning sideways to check her profile in her mirror, "but, I think I'd prefer it if I could see some evidence..."

He crossed the room to stand behind her and wrapping his arms around her, he dropped a swift kiss at the junction of her neck and shoulder and gently spread his hands over her stomach. "I didn't know you were such an empiricist," he teased her gently, "have faith, she's there, she's real. We're just going to have to be patient."

"Oh, I know, I know," she sniffed, 'it's just that I wish she was here now, and I've still got months and months to wait!"

"No, my darling, beautiful wife, you don't have months and months to wait," he corrected her. Jen twisted her head round to see his reflection in the mirror, and he took advantage of her shift to drop another swift kiss on her neck.

"What?" she asked distractedly.

"I said," he repeated, pleased with the effect he'd had,"that you don't have months to wait; we have months to wait."

"Oh, Harm!" she almost wailed.

"Hush, sailor, hush." He rocked her gently until she recovered some of her emotional balance, and then whispered in her ear, "If we don't want to miss breakfast, or get written up for UA, Mrs Legalman Rabb, then I suggest you get some clothes on, or I may go so far as to forget myself, and take some clothes off!"

Her sudden grin was pure naughtiness, "H'mmm, sounds like a plan to me!"

"Just get on it with," he smiled and stepping back gave her a playful swat on her butt.

Jen gave a short squeal of surprise, and rubbing her rump she grinned back over her shoulder, "Oh, you are so going pay for that Harmon Rabb!" And her grin broadened even more when he repeated her own words back at her.

"Sounds like a plan to me!"

Eventually, fed and fully and properly dressed they made their way out into the morning light, and by an act of unspoken communication both made for the Lexus, where in answer to Harm's raised eyebrows, Jen told him, "It makes no sense to burn twice the amount of gas!"

"Well, that's true, but you do realise that once the gate guards see us turning up in one car, the news will be through the whole building in less time than it'll take us to park up and sign in?"

Jen gave him the sort of pitying look that is reserved for particularly dim-witted children, newly wed husbands and new fathers.

"Harm. I am wearing a wedding ring. I have a name tag wit B, engraved on it. Just how much longer did you think we could hide the fact that we are married?"

"Ummm... about five seconds after we hit the bull-pen."

"Oh, well done!" Jen grinned, and looking upwards said in a confidential aside, "See? I knew there was hope for the boy!"

Harm joined in the laugh at his expense and pulled out to join the ever increasing flow of traffic.

While the journey to Falls Church may have been uneventful, their arrival wasn't. The marine PFC at the barrier gave their ID's the usual scrutiny, but it was only after he had handed them back that the significance of what he'd seen registered. Turning to his escort in the guard post, he gasped, "Did you see that?"

"What?"

"That Petty officer - she's got the same name as the Commander!"

"Uh - huh, maybe she's his sister."

"Well, if she's his sister today, she wasn't last month!"

Pulling into his designated parking spot in the area reserved for senior officers, Harm was nearly distracted by Jen's exclamation, "Isn't that Loren?"

Harm applied the emergency brake and disengaged the drive, while eying his wife with an expression of exasperation, "For God's sake Jen, don't squeal like that while I'm driving! I nearly put us into the commissary!"

Perhaps fortunately for future domestic harmony, Jen failed to notice either his expression, his tone of voice, and the very words he had used, but insisted, "It is! It is Loren! What the hell is she doing here, today?"

Loren's answer when Jen repeated her question a few moments later, was stunning in its simplicity, and certainly not one that anyone who hadn't seen the changes in her over the last three or four months would have expected.

Hefting Alexandra's porta-crib, Loren said "Running interference for you two!"

"Oh, Loren," Jen gasped, "you don't have to do that!"

"No I don't, do I?" mused Loren, "But I need to have Tiner update my page two, so I figured I might as well do it today and give you two a spot of covering fire at the same time. Well…" she pretended to consider her actions dispassionately, "Now then, would you look at that, Lieutenant Witch considering other people's feelings! Who'd a thunk it!" she added with self-deprecating irony.

"Well, we didn't!" agreed Harm, "but, d'you know something? We should have!"

"Yes, we should have!" Jen agreed, "and if we weren't in uniform, I'd give you a big hug for being so thoughtful!"

"Oh, no, I couldn't allow that!" Loren protested, and with an assumption of great dignity added, "After all, I do have a reputation to protect!" But the pleasure Harm and Jen's words had given her was evident in the pink tinge to her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes.

There were definitely raised eyebrows at the reception desk when Jen - who was left handed - signed in with her new, married name, and her wedding band in full view, but any comments the Marine Corps Corporal and Staff Sergeant might have had were kept in check by iron discipline until the three had taken the elevator up to the JAG Ops level, when the Staff Sergeant, fully aware of the JAG interpersonal dynamic puffed out his cheeks and said to his Corporal, "I would love to be a fly on the Ops wall in about forty seconds from now!"

Harm and Loren entered the bull-pen almost side by side, while Jen trailed in the appropriate subordinate position two paces to Harm's right rear and attempted to make her way unnoticed to her desk. Her efforts to escape notice were greatly aided by a startled "Oh ma'am!" from Seaman Julia Morris who was the first of the bull pen's denizen's to see Loren with Alexandra.

Almost instantly the female moiety, with Harriett Sims well to the front, descended upon Loren, and although she had determined to preserve her prior and infamous attitude, the exclamations of pleasure, questions and cries of "ohh… she's beautiful," were a siren song she found it impossible to resist, and it was with great pride and an unexpected feeling of almost acceptance that Loren Singer surrendered to the attentions of her co-workers and for a few minutes the differences between commissioned and enlisted, and even personal rivalries, were swept aside as the newest member of the JAG family was taken to their collective heart. Mac, hearing the uproar stuck her head out of her office, and seeing the blonde head of Loren Singer bent over a small wriggling bundle was unable to resist the urge to join the group and felt a tug on her heart strings as she looked across Alexandra and felt for the first time that an aura of peace surrounded Loren. Meeting her eyes, Mac smiled at her and murmured, "Congratulations, Loren, she's beautiful."

Loren kept her eyes on Mac's face, looking for the slightest trace of mockery or malice and finding none, released a breath she hadn't even known she was holding and replied, "Thank you, ma'am."

Mac, who had been involved in the shipboard investigation into the possible raising charges of conduct unbecoming against Loren, could no longer ignore the sixty-four thousand dollar question, "What are you calling her, Loren?"

Loren braced herself for the storm that was about to burst, and looking around at the ring of expectant faces, gulped and said, "Everyone, I'd like you to meet Alexandra Maria Rabb!"

"Rabb!" Mac was thunderstruck, and spinning around she leveled an accusing glare at Harm. Loren correctly interpreted the glare, and hurriedly said, "No, Colonel, it's not what you think. Her father is Sergei."

Mac looked from Loren to Alexandra to Harm and aid weakly, "Oh… but why Rabb… I mean… Sergei… Zhukov…?"

Loren tried a half-smile for effect. "It's a complicated story, ma'am. Perhaps we could go somewhere a bit quieter, for Sasha's sake?" she added quickly as her baby, unaccustomed to the bustle as the office began to return to normalcy, began to fret.

Mac regained her equilibrium and checking her internal clock said, "Yes, alright, let's go to the conference room, we've got forty-two minutes before staff call!"

Harm watched the two woman walk together along the hallway and breathed a sigh of relief, and seeking out Jen's eyes he dropped a swift wink of relief in her direction before opening his office door and ducking inside.

However, he had barely hung his cover on the tree behind the door, when a cry of "Oh! My! God! Jen!" shattered the newly restored calm of the bull-pen. Wincing under the impact of the voice, he turned around in the doorway to see Jen's desk almost surrounded by her co-workers and unable to see her face, he filled his lungs, about to call the deck to attention and rescue his wife from the besieging forces, but he was forestalled by Tiner's voice raised in command "Admiral on deck!"

Everyone froze at attention as the JAG exited his office to glare in disfavour on the disruption to the smooth running of his department. "Humph!" he snorted as he took in the focus of the disturbance, "I might have known there'd be a Rabb behind all this fuss! Rabb!" he bellowed the last word.

"Sir!" Harm responded.

"Not you, Commander! Legalman Rabb!"

Jen gulped, and turned to face her angry sounding CO, ignoring the startled gasps of the majority of those present who not yet grasped her changed status.

"Yessir!"

"You are out of uniform, Legalman!"

"Sir?" Jen quavered, desperately wanting, but not daring, to check for spills, tears, stains or lost or unfastened buttons.

"Yes, definitely out of uniform." Then his craggy face split in a grin. "The board results are in! Congratulations, Petty Officer Legalman First Class Rabb!"

Jen gasped and felt herself go weak at the knees.

"I'll leave it to you and Tiner to organise your wet-down, and disseminate the necessary information to all hands! Commander Rabb!"

"Sir!"

"I'll see you and Legalman One Rabb in my office in thirty minutes!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

"In the meantime," the Admiral swept the bull-pen with a gimlet stare, "there has been quite enough disruption in this office this morning. Anyone else who makes so much noise as to disturb me will find themselves facing charges of conduct to the prejudice! Understood?"

The chorus of "Aye, aye, sir!" and "yessir!" seemed to satisfy the Admiral, and with a barely perceptible wink at a still shaken Jen he turned on his heel and retired to the sanity of his office.

Jen thankfully booted her PC and checked her electronic mail and incoming messages, relieved to find that there was sufficient to keep her occupied so that she wouldn't have to respond to the curious and frankly inquisitive glances that were sent her way. She couldn't, however avoid the reproachful look that Harriett Sims gave her as the blonde officer stopped in front of her desk.

"Oh, Jen, did you have to get married in such a secret way? What did you do, elope?" In fairness Harriett was concerned that Jen hadn't had the anticipation and the celebration of the huge formal wedding that she and Bud had enjoyed.

Jen smiled, "Just about, ma'am. We had a small, private, legal ceremony, Harm's… uh… I mean the Commander's parents came out from California, and a couple of his flying buddies stood up for him, and Lieutenant Singer was my matron of honour. Yes, ma'am, it was a small wedding, but for me… for us… it was perfect!"

If Jen had said that Frankenstein's Bride had been her matron of honour, Harriett could not have been more shocked, but with an heroic effort she bit back on her immediate curiosity, convinced that sooner or later she would get the whole tale. In the meantime, "I think you'd better walk with me, Legalman One."

"Yes, ma'am," Jen obediently replied and followed Harriett to Lieutenant Robert's currently unoccupied office. As they approached the office, Harriett called over her shoulder, "Gunny!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Post this door!"

"Aye, aye, ma'am!"

Entering the office, Harriett hastily pulled the blinds closed and said urgently to Jen, "Quick, Jen, give me your blouse!"

"My blouse, ma'am?"

"Yes, your blouse, quickly now," said Harriett delving into the depths of her purse, "Ha! Here it is!" and she triumphantly brandished a Legalman First Class Rating badge and a small sewing kit. Smiling at Jen, she said, "I seem to remember that you complained at one time that sewing wasn't part of your skill set!"

Jen blushed and murmured a stifled, "Thank you ma'am."

"Not a problem, Jen. Not when you consider what you did for Bud, for me."

"Ma'am, really. I did nothing!"

"No, of course not," Harriett told her soothingly, plying her needle in small, swift, flashing stitches, "you just go on telling yourself that, Jen, and maybe one day, you'll end up believing it, but Bud and I won't, ever. There! That'll hold. Get yourself decent and then you've got an admiral to face down!"

Jen couldn't help but smile. Harriett could be a nosey, interfering pain in the butt, but there was no denying that she and Bud had two of the biggest hearts of gold she had ever encountered.

Leaving Bud's office, Harriett dismissed Gunny Galindez with thanks, and as Jen was turning towards the Admiral's office to face his decision, he said softly, "Petty Officer?"

"Yes, Gunny?" Jen wondered why he was smiling at her.

"I sort of figured it out last weekend petty officer, but I figured I'd wait 'til it was official," he nodded at her new name badge, "Congratulations Legalman One Rabb!"

Jen smiled in pleasure. Somehow the plain good wishes of the rather taciturn Gunnery Sergeant conveyed more than the more effusive outpourings to which she had been subjected in those few hectic minutes before the Admiral had… rescued her? Yes, she reflected, he really had rescued her! Buoyed up by that thought, she headed across the bull-pen to join her husband who was waiting for her at Tiner's desk. As she approached, she saw Tiner press the call button on his desk-top interphone and heard him say, "Admiral sir, Commander Rabb is here to see you sir… and uh… so is Legalman One Rabb… sir…"

Poor Tiner, Jen thought, he's never had to deal with this situation before and he is so obviously way out of his depth. Bolstered by that thought she smiled at Harm and drew a deep breath as he rapped on the door jamb. Entering on the word of command they approached the old-fashioned, solid mahogany desk and halted in front of it to hear what the Department of the Navy had ordained for them.

Admiral Chegwidden, removed his reading spectacles and rubbed a hand over his scalp. He looked at his two subordinates and gently shook his head.

"Take a seat you two. Over the last two weeks," he began as they seated themselves, "I have called in every favour I could just to keep you two out of the brig. And I am very happy to be able to tell you that I have succeeded. You will face no charges of any kind. However, as I warned you prior to your taking leave, one of you will have to transfer out, and for the very good reason that I can't afford to lose a senior attorney, I am afraid Legalman One that it is you for whom I have orders." Jen felt the tears begin to prickle her eyes and was astounded when her CO pushed a box of Kleenex towards her.

"However it is not all bad news. Your new duty station will be the five sided fumble factory. You will report to the SecNav's Office at oh-eight-hundred hours tomorrow. You will be working directly for the SecNav and reporting to Lieutenant Commander Manetti. I am sorry Jennifer; it just isn't possible to keep you here in the same unit as the Commander. Tiner has a sealed copy of your orders." He looked away through the window at the cherry trees outside and continued, "If you had both been commissioned, I might have been able to pull Admiral's privilege on your behalf, but…" he sighed and fell silent.

"Sir, thank you for your efforts," Jennifer said in a composed voice, "you have done so much more for us than we had any right to expect."

"I wish I could have done more, Jennifer, but I'm afraid the little I have managed is all I could do. Now dismissed, Legalman, see Tiner for your orders and report to Lieutenant Sims for out-processing. Once that's complete, collect your husband and go home."

"Aye, aye, sir!" Jennifer had risen to her feet and after her drill-field crisp response paused for the obligatory two seconds before executing an about face and marching out of the office.

Chegwidden turned towards harm as Jen left, and said, "Well, that's that, Rabb. I'm sorry to lose her, I had her earmarked for my next yeoman if Tiner should ever pass his law school and the bar exams. But although the new SecNav is still pretty much an unknown quantity, he was shaken by that hatchet job Lindsey tried to pull, so he's being a little more generous than I think he is normally. And anyway, you've worked with Manetti, and she knows Jennifer from her time here. So I've had an unofficial word with her, and she for some reason, has a soft spot for you, so she's promised to keep an eye on your wife for you!"

Harm was astonished; the Old Man really had gone out to bat for them. He had no doubt that the position that had been found for Jen at the pentagon was a new post created especially for her. Then a grin creased his face, the cunning old bastard had just effectually got his revenge on the SecNav, just as Secretary Sheffield had planted Manetti in JAG, Chegwidden had effectively placed his own agent in the SecNav's office!

"Something amusing you, Commander?"

"No, sir, not at all," Harm dissembled, "I'm just pleased and grateful that Jen won't have to move out just as we're getting established."

"H'mmm," The Old Man might not be so convinced Harm thought as he heard the Admiral clear his throat. "You do understand the necessity for her move, don't you, Harm?"

"Yes, sir. It would have been impossible for her after a while. She couldn't really mix socially with the officers when she still has to work with them here, and she would have lost her enlisted friends, they could never be sure that anything they might tell her wouldn't get back at them through me." He shrugged, "It's a tough bullet to chew, sir, but we knew it would have to happen."

"Good, I'm glad I didn't have to spell it out to you, Commander. I'll leave you to explain it further to your wife if you feel you have to. Now, as soon as she's finished out-processing, take her home, and then you take the rest of the day, and we'll see you tomorrow, ready to start work! Dismissed!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Harm sat in his office, idly twirling a pencil in his fingers as he waited for Jen to finish the interminable paperwork that the navy, even in the age of computers, insisted on whenever an individual changed their duty station. His ruminations were interrupted by a knock on his door frame and looking around, his heart sunk. This was not a conversation to which he had been looking forward. "Come in, Mac, take a seat?"

Mac entered the office and looked closely at her partner, apart from a certain wariness, he looked more relaxed, more assured and… happier? Yes, she decided, happier than she had seen him for a long time.

"So, you really did it? You really married Jennifer Coates?"

Harm had been braced for an eruption, for scathing sarcasm, for tears, for almost anything rather than this. Mac's voice had been even, slightly interested and replete with the warmth of gentle amusement.

"Yes," he replied cautiously, "We really did it."

Mac smiled, "I've just had a fascinating conversation with Loren Singer… well with someone who claims she's Loren Singer; who is she? And what did she do with the real Lieutenant Witch? I cannot believe how much she's changed, she almost seems human!"

"Yes, she's changed Mac. And," he looked at her quizzically, "she doesn't seem to be the only one?"

"Me? I don't think I've changed, Harm. But what has changed completely is the way we look at each other. I think we enjoyed our stupid little games; we actually enjoyed our dumb dance. But now the dance has ended and the piper has been paid. Can we, do you think, can we now, at last settle down and concentrate on being friends, best friends, as well as partners?"

"I hope so, Mac. I would really like that!"

"Good! I understand why you wouldn't have wanted me at the wedding, but poor Jen didn't even have a bridal shower, so… I'm going to have a word with Harriett, and we can have her wet-down and bridal shower and a JAG reception for her all at the same time."

"Umm… that's a sweet idea, Mac, but let me run it by her first. She's out-processing right now, and reports to her new duty station at the Pentagon tomorrow. So I'll get back to you in a few days and let you know how she feels about it, OK?"

"OK, we'll work it that way then," she looked at him dubiously before changing the subject, "Tell me Harm, just how did you feel when you found Loren Singer hiding in your mother's book-room?"

A few seconds later their combined shouts of laughter burst out of his office and bounced around the walls of the bull-pen, bringing grins, some of pleasure at their amusement, but many more of relief, from the inhabitants of JAG Ops.


	27. Moving In

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 27  
>Moving on and Moving In<strong>

Sarah MacKenzie walked away from Harm's office full of regrets, self-recriminations and self-doubt. She could feel the prickling of tears in her eyes, but she would not cry, she told herself. She would not. She kept a bright and totally artificial smile on her face as she walked around the edge of the bull-pen, until she had reached the sanctuary of her own office, where she could shut the door and close the blinds. Just where had it all suddenly gone wrong? Harmon Rabb had been her anchor, her person, the guy, the one friend she could rely upon. All the other men that had passed through her life had done just that. They had come into her life, had an effect on her and then they had left her, one way or another. But not Rabb, he had always been there, to watch her six, to help her through the hard times and to pick up the pieces when her relationships had shattered. And now just a few months after the investigation into Loren Singer's pregnancy, and despite herself she smiled, Alexandra was a beautiful baby, and certainly had those amazing Rabb eyes, and after Bud's injury, it had all gone to hell. OK, some of it was her fault, first she had been convinced, despite any evidence, and flouting the first law of jurisprudence - innocent until proven guilty - that Singer had, contrary to all regulations, conceived on board ship, and that had caused conflict with Harm, as he'd accused her of making her mind up before any investigation had even started. And then she had been so certain that Rabb was the father of Singer's baby, but he had been so secretive about the whole thing. Of course, she knew now that he had simply been embarrassed by the whole affair. Whether he was embarrassed because his brother had gotten involved with the Wicked Witch of Washington, or because he had abandoned her once he'd found out she was pregnant, didn't matter anymore.

No, she had to face it, it had been her refusal to help Rabb talk Singer into a reasonable frame of mind when the blonde Lieutenant had talked wildly about having a termination, and her own angry jealousy when he had told Singer that he was prepared to adopt her baby that had finally driven him away, and driven him into the arms of Jennifer Coates. God! What a fool she had been! She should have seen this coming, ever since that first Christmas Eve when she had stood by with a sappy grin on her face while Coates had kissed him. OK, it was only a chaste Christmas kiss on the cheek, nothing like the steamy kiss she and Rabb had had, but then again, that was only a mistletoe kiss. But still it had been a kiss, a mark of affection. No, she had lost him as a… what? But, she could if she tried, keep him as her friend, as her best friend, as he had been for nearly seven years, and if that meant she had to be friends with Jennifer Rabb too, then she would just have to suck it up! But even as she'd made her decision, she knew that when one of two friends married, their previous dynamic was fundamentally changed.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Rabb" he almost snapped into the telephone. Well, he was feeling strangely irritable, and just a little bit lost. This was the first day since she had been posted to JAG that he hadn't been able to look out of his office and see her at her desk in the bull-pen, and not seeing her left him with a feeling of loss that was unsettling.

"Hello, Mr Rabb, this is Mrs Rabb." Her voice was low and husky and sent a frisson running up his spine.

"Ohhh," he groaned, "Stop it, Jen. You have no idea what that voice does to me!"

"Uh… yes, actually, I do… and I thought you liked it…" She answered suggestively, and he knew that as she said it her face wore the wicked smile that he could hear in her voice.

"So… How's your first day at the fun factory?" he queried, desperately trying to change the subject.

"Ohhh", she grumbled, "there are times, Harmon Rabb, when _you_ are no fun at all!"

"Possibly true," he conceded, "but 'phone sex with a beautiful brunette is not my idea of fun, when," he cocked an eye at his office clock, "in a little over two hours, we could be living the dream."

"H'mm, that's why I called, I think we may need to take a rain check on that."

Harm sat upright and with concern in his voice demanded, "Are you alright? The baby? There's nothing wrong, because…"

"No, no, there's nothing wrong. But I just thought I'd remind you that today is Tuesday. We are supposed to be moving house on Saturday, and we haven't packed a single thing yet!"

Harm groaned. Where the hell had the time gone. And Jen's voice was remorseless.

"I called that moving company on Sleepy Hollow Road, and I've arranged for the hire of forty boxes. And as JAG is nearer to them than this place, you'll need to secure early and pick them up on your way home. Oh, yes, you'll need to buy a couple of box-cutters and a couple of rolls of duct tape. And then you and I my darling, are going to have a fun-filled few evenings playing pack up the apartment - starting this evening, so don't go making any elaborate dinner plans. In fact, it might be a good idea to order in."

"Jen, if I'd known you were such a slave driver, I'd never have married you!" he protested.

"Oh, yes, you would have!" she retorted, not in the least upset by his comment.

"How do work that out?" he challenged.

"Because you love me!" she declared triumphantly, and then continued in a softer tone, "and that's perfectly OK, because I love you too."

"You know me too well," he smiled. "OK, what time do you reckon on getting home?"

"Well, we secure at seventeen hundred, but Commander Manetti reckons it's chaos getting out of here at that time, so… give me an hour before you start worrying, OK?"

"OK, I'll expect you at eighteen hundred. Love you, bye…"

He was startled by a voice from the doorway, "That was Jennifer, I take it?"

"Oh, hello, Mac, I didn't hear you…"

"No… I thought I'd leave you to finish your chat before I interrupted," she smiled in a friendly manner, "but Harm, it might be wiser if you shut the door… I could have been A J…"

Harm winced at the thought, "Good point. Now," he sighed heavily, "what can you do for me?"

"Seaman Carlton's Article 32 hearing tomorrow."

"Carlton… ah yes, UA, resisting apprehension; what about him?"

"Plea bargain. He pleads guilty to all charges and specifications in return for sixty days confinement, forfeiture of pay and benefits and a BCD."

"Oh come on, Mac. He's a good kid. His performance evals are consistently high. His record is absolutely clean until now. Thirty days confinement, half-pay for two months and he stays in the navy."

"Harm, he went UA even though his ship was under warning orders for deployment. If those orders had been activated he could have been liable for Missing Movement or possibly Desertion in Time of War, and that would have meant hard labour at Leavenworth!"

"Mac, if, might have, could have been. That's all smoke and mirrors, and you know it. No, if that's the best offer you can come up with, we'll see you in court."

"Harm, his resisting apprehension could be interpreted as evidence of his intention to stay away from the navy, and that, as you well know, is desertion. I'm not pushing for that, but if you want to play hardball with this kid's life…"

"Not hardball, Mac, just playing the hand we've been dealt…"

Mac's senses went on full alert, "You just switched metaphors. That means you think you've got a magic rabbit. What do you know that I don't, you sneaky squid?"

Harm grinned at her indignation. "Mac, full disclosure works from prosecution to defence, not the other way around. So, unless you've got a better deal to offer, I've got a closing argument to polish. No? Like I said, see you in court, counselor!"

Mac shook her head at him and left his office. What the hell was he planning now? A quick check of the board reassured her that the judge for the hearing was still Commander Helferman, OK, there was no advantage to him there; Helferman seemed to be one of the few females that were immune to his charm. What was that devious flyboy turned lawyer up to?

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm read through his opening and closing arguments one last time, and made one or two minor amendments before closing the file and saving it to his hard drive. The kid was guilty of both charges, there was absolutely no doubt of the facts, but what Mac didn't have was the kid's answers to Harm's questions and supporting evidence from his Petty Officer. It wouldn't clear Carlton, but it would he hoped go a long way in reducing his punishment. In fact, Harm wasn't quite sure why the convening authority had pushed for an Article 32, this sort of minor transgression should have been dealt with at a Captain's Mast… unless the convening authority was in possession of the same information that Harm had gleaned from witness statements, and wanted to make a public exposure of the whole unsavoury mess.

He stretched in order to ease his back cramped from too long a period hunched over his computer keyboard, and as he did so, he caught sight of the office clock. Crap! He hurriedly checked his watch. Oh God, it_ was_ eighteen-twenty hours. Jen would be home by now, probably tapping an irritable foot as she waited for him, and fulminating that it was just like him to be late when she had the evening's activities planned out. Oh, double crap! She probably suspected him of being deliberately late to get out of having to do any packing. Oh shit! The boxes! What time did the damn' movers close? If he missed getting the boxes then he was in for a whole world of pain!

He had been partially right, she was waiting for him, and her foot was tapping impatiently on the floor, but she also had her arms tightly folded across her chest, her hair pulled back in a pony-tail and a definite scowl, unrelieved by any hint of humour in her eyes, set on her face.

Struggling under the burden of ten of the folded flat packing boxes, Harm eyed her cautiously. "Uh… he said as he leaned his burden against the wall, "are we going to talk about this, or are we just going to start yelling?"

"Yelling could be good," Jen told him flatly.

"Ummm… yeah, it could help us keep our promise."

"What promise?"

"The promise we made each other," he said as he closed the distance between them and gently took hold of her upper arms, "that we wouldn't ever go to bed still mad at each other."

Jen shrugged her arms free of his grasp, and in a bewildering change of subject she said, "Colonel MacKenzie called. About the Carlton case. She said it was urgent. She called here because she couldn't get you on your office 'phone, nor on your cell 'phone. _And neither could I!" _She was definitely yelling now. _"You scared the shit out of me Harm!_ You said you were securing early, and I was expecting to find you here at home when I got here, but the place was empty, your car was gone, I couldn't get you on the 'phone! And it seems like I've been waiting forever for the police to knock on the door and tell me that you'd wrapped that damn' car around a tree somewhere!"

Harm winced at her anger and distress, and pulled his cell 'phone out of his pocket and saw to his dismay that somehow or other he had switched it off. He didn't remember doing so, but it was definitely off. Pressing the power switch he saw to his chagrin that there were seventeen messages in the voice-mail box, four from Mac and thirteen from Jen.

"Oh, Jen… I'm so, so sorry… I don't know how, but it got switched off. I didn't know anyone was calling."

His face showed that he was genuinely upset at what had happened, at causing her unnecessary worry, and his expression was so woebegone that Jen, despite her genuine anger at him felt some of her ire ebb.

"Harmon Rabb, I am still so pissed at you… For the last hour I've been praying that you come home safe and sound, and promising myself that if you did, I'd kill you myself!"

"Jen, I'm sorry I'm late, but I got caught up working on my opening argument for tomorrow… and you know how that goes. And when I noticed the time I was already late. But, in mitigation of the offence, I picked up the boxes - the rest of them are in the elevator - and the box cutters, and the duct tape. So, I'll get changed out of this stuff and then we can either eat and then work or work and take a break for dinner."

"I've eaten, I ordered in pizza. So we can get straight on with work, once you've brought the other boxes in."

"Yeah, OK, I'll set up a dozen or so of them while mine's reheating…"

"Uh, your dinner's not in the oven… it's… uh… in the dumpster," Jen had the grace to look slightly abashed.

"You threw my dinner in the dumpster?" Harm looked at her as if she had suddenly evolved into some strange alien life form.

"Yeah," Jen said defiantly, tossing her head, "Like I said I was pissed at you and… dammit Harm! It's _not _funny!" she protested as he burst into laughter.

"Yeah, Jen, yeah, it is!" He held her gaze with his own until the laughter in his eyes at first caused the corners of her mouth to twitch and then finally to break out into a grin and her own eyes lit with laughter.

"Damn you, Harmon Rabb! That was so unfair!"

"Friends again?" he asked, holding a hand out to her.

"Yeah, friends," she agreed taking his hand, only to be swept into his arms as a gentle but insistent hand forced her face up to receive his kiss.

Her arms went around his neck and she mumbled into his mouth, "No fair! That was dirty pool! And… I'm still mad at you!"

"Still?" he questioned.

"Yeah, but not as much," she said, enthusiastically kissing him in her turn.

"Oh, wow!" He said as they broke off to take a breath. "As I see it, we have two choices. One: we either carry on what we've just started; and I let you drag my poor unresisting body to the bedroom so you can work your wicked way on me. Or, two: we table this discussion for later and actually do some work. Although," he added with a puppy dog look in his eyes, "neither of those two alternatives is going to be very productive, unless I get something to eat!"

"H'mmm, decisions, decisions, decisions. Well… much as I kinda like the idea of the bedroom scenario, we do need to make a start on packing, and at least, if we get interrupted by the pizza boy, you won't have to scramble into something decent to answer the door. OK. Start taping the boxes, and I'll order you another pizza - but you're paying for it buster!"

"Well, we didn't do too badly," he told her later as they snuggled under the comforter. All the extra bedding is packed, most of my clothes, ditto. We've even made a start on your side of the closet - although I reckon we're going to have to hire some more boxes. Ouch! What was that for?"

"That's for being sarcastic about the size of my very limited wardrobe," she told him, but at the same time dropping a kiss on his shoulder where she had just play-punched him.

"Ooh, mommy kiss owie better!" he hammed for her.

She lifted her head off his chest and smiled up at him, "Clown!"

"Yeah, I know, but you love it, right? So tomorrow, we finish packing whatever's left in here, and that gives us Thursday and Friday to pack the bathroom, living room and kitchen. I'd kinda like to leave the kitchen to last."

"Why?"

"Well we gotta eat!"

"Yeah, but we gotta work, and we haven't got enough time for you to spend an hour each evening in the kitchen, preparing, cooking and cleaning up! So, I say we pack the kitchen tomorrow and get it out of the way. We can live off ordering-in for a couple of days, it won't kill us!"

"You hope!" Harm responded gloomily.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jack Keeter looked at his watch as he hurried down Alexandria's King Street, in about fifteen seconds he was going to be late, and if he had learned one thing about tonight's not-a-date was that she was always on time. Well two things he'd learned, she also _hated_ to be kept waiting! Which wouldn't have been a problem if he hadn't been at least five, maybe ten, minutes away from the theatre. Why the hell he hadn't suggested they meet in a bar where she could have taken a quiet, secluded booth, he didn't know. But no, he'd had to suggest they meet outside the theatre, where the whole world could see her impatiently pacing up and down and checking her watch every thirty seconds, and knowing that guy she was supposed to be meeting was late. She was going to kill him. If he was lucky. Oops! He knew it, she was here already, and she didn't look too thrilled with his late arrival.

"Good evening, Beth."

"H'mph!"

Two hours later when they left the theatre, Beth was quietly sniffling into a Kleenex and Keeter had his arm around her waist as she leaned against him for comfort. "Hey, are you alright, Beth?"

"Yes, it was such a beautiful movie, so sad, but beautiful," she sniffed.

"Hey, hey, hey," he said softly, accompanying his words with a gentle squeeze, "it was only a movie."

Keeter grinned, the movie, _My Life Without Me_, had been a load of predictable, sentimental tosh, the basic idea had been done before, and had been done much better, but he had enjoyed Beth's reaction to it and her involvement in it. Who would have thought that the tough-as-nails persona that the tiny RIO presented was really just a cover for a personality that was about as tough as a hot, buttered English Muffin. But hey, if Beth thought it was good movie, then he was more than happy to have brought her an hour and a half of pleasure, even if it had only been a chick flick.

He kept his thoughts to himself and his arm around her waist until they arrived at her car. Slipping out of his very loose hold, she fumbled in her purse for her keys, and said, "Next time Jack, why don't we drive out in the same car, that way, neither of us will be left standing around waiting for the other?"

Keeter grinned sheepishly, and said, "Well, we could do that I suppose, but if anybody on base saw us, it might look as we were dating…"

Beth looked at him with a strange expression on her face, "We are dating, stoopid!" she grinned and shocked the hell out of him by standing on her tip toes and gently brushing her lips on his. And then, before he could react, she smiled and said, "Goodnight, Jack, see you tomorrow on the board. Bright eyed and bushy tailed." She slipped behind the steering wheel of her battered old Volvo and drove off trailing a plume of blue exhaust gases, and leaving him confused at the side of the road.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

By Thursday evening's close when Harm and Jen crawled late into bed, they were tired and short tempered and liable to snap at each other for no real reason. Jen made an effort to maintain normal relations and once Harm had slid into bed alongside her, she scooted across to him and took up her favourite position. "I'm sorry I've been such a bitch," she murmured against his chest.

"It's alright, sweetheart, I've been just as bad and just as snarky," he reassured her. "Face it, neither of us have been at our best the last couple of days, and at least you get to take it easy tomorrow, so I expect lots of TLC when I get home!"

"Huh, you wish!" Jen almost dozed off at that point until what Harm had just said penetrated to her tired brain, "How come I've got an easy day tomorrow?" She craned her head up so that he could make out the puzzled frown on her brow.

"Oh, it's Friday tomorrow," he reminded her. And then as there was no sign of further understanding on her face, he gave her shoulder an admonitory squeeze. "Completion day. I have to be at Annandale Road at midday to meet with the Realtor, Mrs Brovo's attorney, Frank's attorney, my attorney and Loren. Frank's guy and Mrs Brovo's guy have to do the property transfer then Loren and I have to sign the rental agreements with Frank's guy, and the Realtor has to be there to hand over the keys and the title deeds."

"Oh… who's your attorney? Mac?"

"No… When we were making the arrangements she was still pretty ticked off with me, with us, so I asked Bud to step up…"

"Oh… Hey!" Jen sat up indignantly. "How come I'm not there?"

Harm looked at her with honest surprise, "Because you only reported to your new assignment two days ago, and yes, I know Tracy Manetti would have been happy to let you take the half-day, I'm not too sure SecNav would have been too excited."

Jen allowed herself to be mollified to the extent that she let Harm tug her back down so she could rest against his chest, but right on the edge of sleep she grumbled, "You are so going to pay for that…"

"Yes, dear," he teased her as dropped a kiss on the top of her head, but the only reply he got was the soft sound of her gentle breathing.

Jen awoke early on Friday morning, but instead of indulging in one her favourite time-wasters, watching Harm sleep, she was acutely conscious that she really needed to wash her hair, and reflected wryly that it was going to take a hell of a time to dry it before she had to leave for duty. Slipping quietly out of bed, she made her way into the bathroom where adjusting the shower temperature to her liking, she allowed the jet to thoroughly soak her hair before she picked up the shampoo. On leaving the shower she saw Harm at the wash basin, his face covered in shaving gel and his razor in his hand. Wrapping a towel around her head and pulling on her bathrobe, she said "You're going to have to make breakfast this morning!"

Harm nodded his agreement and watched in the mirror as Jen headed for the bedroom. Dammit! If he'd only woken up ten minutes earlier, he could have found an excuse to share the shower with her!

Oh-seven hundred hours saw the two of them finishing breakfast before Jen headed for the Pentagon in her Escort while Harm took the Lexus to Falls Church.

Not that it had, from a work point of view, been worth making the commute out to Falls Church. He hadn't managed to open a single file from the stack in his In-Box. On the other hand, he smiled, he had managed to sort out almost everything for the move tomorrow, it had started with a 'phone call to NAF Andrews, "Hi, Air Ops?"

"Yes, sir"

"This is Commander Rabb, at JAG HQ. I'd like to speak with Commander Keeter, or Lieutenant Commander Hawkes, please."

"One moment, please, sir."

A couple of minutes passed before he heard the familiar voice on the other end of the line, "Keeter."

"Hey, Jack, it's Rabb. Just confirming details for tomorrow."

A long minute of silence passed "Tomorrow, what's happening tom… Oh, crap - the house move! Rabb, I'm sorry, pal, but I forgot… what? What's that?" The last comment seemed to be addressed to someone else, and Harm could hear a murmur of voices in the background, before a sheepish-sounding Keeter came back on the line, "But Beth tells me it's all arranged, and that she's picking me up at the BOQ at oh-eight hundred hours, so we should be with you by oh-nine…"

"OK, we'll see you then, and tell Skates 'thanks' from me."

"Don't I get thanked?"

"Nope, you forgot! See you in the morning!"

Having reminded Keeter - note to self: give Skates an extra hug - all he needed to do now is to bring Gunny Galindez up to speed.

"'Morning, Gunny!"

"Good morning, sir!" Victor Galindez left his chair and came to attention.

"At ease, Gunny - strictly informal for the moment."

"Yes, sir."

"Gunny, I just wanted to confirm arrangements for tomorrow, and to ask a favour."

"Yes, sir. How may I help?"

"Have you got a fatigue detail collected?"

"Yes, sir. Same crew as last time. I trust them not to be light fingered." Harm shot him a look. It had been borne upon him as he got to know the rather enigmatic Staff Non-Com that Gunny Galindez had a dry sense of humour, and it wasn't always possible to tell when he was joking.

"H'mm, that's reassuring. Gunny, you've got a tow-hook on your truck, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Yeah, well I've been looking at what we've packed at home, and I figure that if we just use the one trailer, we're going to have to do at least two trips, and after moving Lieutenant Singer's stuff, it's not an experience I want to repeat. It makes for a hell of a long day!"

"That it does, sir. So… you want to hire a second trailer, and you'd like me to tow it?"

"If it's not too much of an imposition, Gunny. Of course, I'll pay for the rental…"

"Not a problem, sir. Where and when?"

"U-Haul rental on K at oh-eight hundred? Thanks Gunny."

"Uh, sir, there is just one thing… Now that your marriage is known, there are a couple of the guys who knew Petty Officer Coates well enough to call her by her first name, are wondering now how to address her? I mean, they want to know do they still call her by her name, or do they call her ma'am, or…"

"Good question, Gunny. I haven't talked with her about that, but my feeling is that calling her 'ma'am' would make her feel uncomfortable, so, I guess call her 'Mrs Rabb' to start with, and if she wants anything else, she'll let you know!"

Galindez grinned at Harm and saw an answering glimmer in his face, "Yes, sir. She surely will!"

Still grinning, Harm crossed the bull-pen towards the admiral's office. "Tiner!"

"Sir!"

"When you have a moment, Tiner, can you remind the Admiral that I have a half-day's leave booked today, so I shall be securing at eleven-thirty hours. If he's forgotten why, remind him that I'm taking over our new house at twelve-hundred, please."

"Aye, aye, sir!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Bud had followed Harm in his own car, and when they pulled up outside the house on Annandale Road, Harm gave a quick glance around, there were so many cars parked outside that it was beginning to look like a used car lot. They were met on the doorstep by the young Realtor, Catherine something-or-other, who to Harm's surprise - he was not privy to her naval ambitions - had a look on her face resembling awe at the sight of two naval officers in summer whites.

"Good morning Commander, Lieutenant, come on in., she urged them and directed them into the family room, introducing the other people present as she did so, " You're the last to arrive. Mr Lawrence is here to act for the vendor and Mr Edwards for the buyer. And of course you know Mrs Brovo and Lieutenant Singer."

"Ma'am, Loren, how's Sasha?" Harm enquired, "This is Lieutenant Roberts, a colleague, he explained to everyone as he introduced Bud, "He'll be acting as my legal advisor in this matter."

"Mrs Brovo, Lieutenant, Miss…?"

"Catherine Graves, Lieutenant." Catherine looked a little doubtfully at the round-faced JAG Lieutenant, he didn't seem to be her ideal of a naval officer, but as she took in his service ribbons and then the Purple Heart ribbon that he wore on his chest, she realised that once again her youthful propensity to make snap judgement had nearly betrayed her. To cover her inner confusion, she said, "Well, gentlemen, I have the title deeds here," she indicated her briefcase, "Shall we proceed?"

The two lawyers took their seats at the table and opened their briefcases. Loren leaned towards Harm and Bud and said, this is going to take a while, according to Miss Graves, why don't we take a walk down to the ranch-house, and I'll make you guys a pot of coffee. Besides, it's almost time to feed Alexandra!"

Harm nodded, it made more sense than to sit and watch two lawyers carry out the completion of the property transfer when neither he nor Loren needed to be present for that phase of the day's business. "Mr Edwards?"

"Yes, Commander…? and that's Tom."

"The three of us, he indicated himself Bud and Loren are going to grab a coffee in the ranch-house, just holler when you've got all the details completed, and we'll come back to sign the lease documents."

"But before we do," Bud interrupted, "I'd like the opportunity to go over them before we sign."

"Of course! Here you go Lieutenant, but I don't think you'll find anything to cavil at. These are just about the most generous lease agreements I have ever seen!"

Bud raised a skeptical eyebrow, but took the papers with a laconic word of thanks and followed harm and Loren across the yard to the ranch-house.

Although it had been a full week since Loren had moved in, Harm was surprised by the huge strides she had made in turning the ranch-house into a home. In the living room, brightly coloured Navajo rugs were scattered on the wooden floor, which now glowed with the application of wax and elbow grease while three original paintings, by up-and-coming young artists, hung between the two windows that looked out into the yard, while the far end wall was now completely lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and her law library was just about unpacked and sorted.

Harm and Bud took seats in the armchairs place in front of the coffee table, looked around appreciatively. Bud in particular, not having been exposed to the gradual change that had come over Loren Singer, could hardly believe the evidence of his own eyes. Not only had the Ice Queen transformed her accommodation into a home, but her very appearance had changed. While some of it he supposed might be put down to weight gain, he was sure there was more to it than that. Harriett had grown a little plumper after A J's birth, but that plumpness had been everywhere. Loren on the other hand… it just seemed that her face was rounder, calmer and… more gentle. His ruminations were interrupted as Loren returned from the kitchen bearing a tray with a pot of coffee and three mugs, one of which was already steaming and gave off the delicate scent of an herbal tea.

Placing the tray on the table, she said brightly, "We'll be back in a minute," and as good as her word, she returned very shortly, cradling Alexandra in her arms. Bud who had not been in the bull-pen when Alexandra had made her debut on Monday almost jumped to his feet, his face splitting in a huge smile, "May I Lieutenant?" He nodded towards Alexandra.

"Of course," she replied, shifting her daughter round so that Bud could get a good look at her.

"Lieutenant," he said, with the second sappiest smile Harm had ever seen on his face, "she is absolutely stunning, and with those eyes…" he fell silent for a few seconds, "They are amazing, and there is no-one in the world who could possibly doubt that she's a Rabb!"

Again, Bud's enthusiastic appreciation of Alexandra's charms wrought its usual magic on Loren, "Thank you… Bud. Yes, I think she's beautiful too."

Bud threw a surprised look at Harm. In the three years that Loren Singer had been at Falls Church, this was the first occasion that she had addressed him by his first name. Harm just grinned at him, her reaction had just about been what he had come to expect from the new, improved Loren Singer.

Loren caught the exchange of glances between the two men and snapped, "What?" and then as she realised what they were thinking, she scowled, and remarked in an acid tone, "It's still me! There are no pod-people in Falls Church!"

Her scold did not have the desired effect, Harm started chuckling first, and his laughter infected Bud, who, still standing and looking at Alexandra, let his already broad smile grow into a chuckle of his own.

Loren couldn't make up her mind whether to join them in their amusement or to carry on scolding them, but after a few seconds, she surrendered, "You two are so bad!" she complained, and half-turning away from them perched on the corner of the couch and unbuttoning her blouse placed Alexandra at her breast. Bud blushed furiously, as she had known he would, and even Harm, to her surprise, looked slightly uncomfortable. Loren, her face turned down toward her daughter smiled a small secret smile. Revenge was sweet even if it had gone undetected!

Once she had sat, Bud opened the envelope that Tom Edwards had given him and started to plough through the lease agreement. He hadn't been reading very long when he turned to harm and Loren, "Two separate leases? One for the main building and one for this…" he waved a hand indicating his current surrounding, "It says here, guest house, but…"

"Well," Loren said, "given its design, we've more or less settled on calling it the ranch-house…"

"Yeah, that works for me," Bud agreed, and continued reading. After a few more minutes he gave a low whistle of surprise, "Harm, Lieut… uh… Loren, are these figures right? They look suspiciously low to me…"

Harm looked over his shoulder, "Yep, that's the figures we agreed. But if you read further down you'll see that we are responsible for all maintenance. And, I've got an in with the new owner!"

"Yeah, how's that?" Bud queried.

"It's Frank Burnett, my mom's husband, my step-father!"

Bud's mouth dropped open and his face assumed what Loren had privately come to think of as his 'officially stunned' expression. He shook his head slightly, and murmured, "Well, well, you have been busy!"

Any further thoughts he might have had on the matter were cut short by a knock on the door and the appearance around the door jamb of Catherine Graves. "Commander Rabb, Lieutenant Singer, Mr Edwards is ready to for you to sign the lease agreements, at your convenience."

The business of actually signing the leases only took a few minutes and the setting up of a payment order on Harm and Loren's bank accounts only a few minutes more. At the end of which time, Tom Edwards gathered up his copies of the documents and shaking hands with harm and Loren wished them well in their new home, and ushering his opposite number and Catherine Graves ahead of him, left Mrs Brovo, Bud, Harm and Loren alone.

Harm turned towards Mrs Brovo, who seemed to be a little emotional, "Are you well, ma'am?"

"I'm fine, thank you, Commander." She dabbed at her eyes with a wisp of something lacy, and straightening her back and squaring her shoulders asked, "When do you want me out?"

"Ma'am, you are welcome to stay until you are perfectly ready to leave. I understand you are just waiting for the word to move to… Florida, wasn't it?"

"Yes, near Pensacola. If you could put up with me until Monday morning that would be very helpful."

"Ma'am, my wife and I and our crew of amateur movers, will be here at ten-hundred hours tomorrow, but we would be most happy to have you as our guest until Monday, and longer should it be necessary. That is if you can stand the noise and disruption as we try to figure out where everything needs to go."

"That really is very kind of you, Commander."

"Ma'am, in light of your kindness to Lieutenant Singer, to Loren, it is the very least we can do!"

Mrs Brovo smiled, and aid, "Well, if you are quite happy, I'm sure you still have lots to do, so I'll leave you to get on with it."

"Oh, Mrs Brovo, Loren interjected, please come and join me for dinner, this evening. Nineteen hundred hours!"

Mrs Brovo stopped at the foot of the stairs, and replied, "Thank you, Loren that is very kind," and with a general smile at the three officers slowly made her way up to her room.

Harm turned towards Bud and said, "Bud, I've got two cases of beer in the trunk of the Lexus, give me a hand to bring them down to Loren's, if that's alright by you Loren. They're for the crew for tomorrow, and could do with being in an ice box…"

"Of course… and once you've done that, we need to talk. I've been interviewing baby-sitters this week, and I've narrowed it down to a choice of three I'm happy with, but if Jen is going to share the cost eventually, then she needs to be happy too, so…"


	28. It's Moving Day!

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 28  
>It's Moving Day!<strong>

Jen finished cramming the last of the used bed-linen into the black trash-bah and tying off the top, she squashed it down and sat cross-legged on it, a grin creasing her face as she watched her grouch of a husband make his breakfast coffee and pour hot water over the tea-bag in her cup. A plate of toast lay on the coffee table and Jen was merely waiting for Harm to join her before eating her last breakfast in their apartment.

Harm brought the two steaming mugs across the room and squinting balefully through the now drape-free window at the only just gray dawn sky, placed them carefully on the coffee table and snagged a cushion off the couch before lowering himself gingerly to the floor.

Jen repressed an unwifely giggle. Despite her amusement she did feel some sympathy for his disgruntled mood. Somehow the two concepts of Harm and early morning just didn't fit in with the whole cosmic plan, especially at weekends when he figured he had earned the right to sleep-in for an extra hour or two.

Harm took a sip of his coffee, muttering inaudibly as he burned his tongue. Glowering across the table he almost snarled at Jen, "Tell me again. Why did we get up at such an ungodly hour, when we're not expecting anything to happen until oh-seven-thirty at the earliest?"

"Umm, that's when you go to pick up the trailer, right?"

"Yeah."

"And by the time you get back it'll be, what, oh-eight-thirty?"

"H'mm... yeah, s'pose so."

"And what time is the rest of the gang supposed to be here?"

"Oh-nine-hundred hours."

"So... how much time does that leave us to deal with any outstanding matters, or handle any last minute emergencies?"

"Ummm... the half hour between oh-eight-thirty and when the crew arrives."

"Just so, Jen smiled affably, "But you're forgetting, that we also have the time - approximately an hour - between finishing breakfast and you leaving to pick up the trailer!"

Harm tried to maintain his glare, but the truth was, Jen was just so damn' cute that he couldn't stay pissed at her no matter how much he wanted to. Of course, there was also the beneficial effect of his first daily dose of caffeine. "Aren't you supposed to be pregnant?" he growled at her.

"Yep," she smiled at him smugly.

"So... you're the one who's supposed have unruly hormones rampaging through your body, making you moody, capricious and illogical?"

"Yep," her smile never wavered a millimetre.

"So how come you're so damn' logical, all of a sudden?" he demanded.

"Ah, Harm, I'm not only logical, but I am also absolutely right!"

"Oh, I hate it when you do that!" he complained, but the twitch at the corners of his mouth were a dead give-away to Jen that his sense of humour was finally beginning to wake up.

"And by the way, Harm, you forgot one other effect those hormones have on me..."

"What's that?"

"They also make me incredibly horny," she said huskily, letting the tip of her tongue moisten her lips, and then as he started to rise, she added brightly, "Unfortunately we don't have time for that right now!" and as he groaned in frustration, she dropped her voice back into its lower register, "so I guess we'll just have to wait until tonight... unless of course, you'll be too tired by then. After all," she teased, "Us youngsters can't expect you old-timers to keep up with us all the time!"

"Old-timers!" Harm spluttered, "Oh, you are so going to pay for that, little girl!"

"Oh, promises, promises!" she scoffed, "I look forward to you trying!"

Harm grinned at her helplessly, "Dammit Jen! You've done it again! I was determined to be a grouch until at least oh-eight-hundred! I'm beginning to suspect that I've married a very devious woman!"

"Of course you have," she reassured him, "and that's one of the reasons that we're going to be so very happy!"

"It is?" he asked doubtfully.

"Most certainly," she twinkled at him, "or at least it will be once you've got off your six and disassembled the bed!"

"Disassemble the bed?" he repeated helplessly, now totally adrift at her seemingly mercurial changes of topic.

She looked at him fondly. "Harm, you had that bed-frame made to measure because you're so... she deliberated over her choice of words for a second, and then decided that teasing him was too much fun, "big. Just how do you figure to get it down to the street, get it loaded into a U-haul trailer and then unloaded and upstairs in the new place while it stays in one piece?"

Harm looked at his wife in amazement. She was right, what a wonderful woman she was! How come he hadn't thought of something so damn' obvious? Particularly when he'd had the bed made to his specifications he stipulated that it must be able of being quickly broken down into its component parts! Thinking about his oversight, he scowled at Jen again. If she had only let him have just an extra half-hour's sleep, he would have remembered that himself.

Jen caught the change of expression on his face, "Yeah, you're just jealous 'cos you didn't think about it," she scoffed.

"I s'pose I am," he agreed, with a sigh and then grinned wickedly, "but I don't s'pose you know where the special wrench is do you?"

"Uh... no, of course not...Oh, Harm," she wailed, "you didn't pack it in one of the boxes in the garage did you?"

"I dunno," he said thoughtfully rubbing his chin, "Coulda done, I guess... Do you wanna take a look?"

"Ohh!" Jen gritted in exasperation, "what on earth am I going to do with you... you evil minded son of a... you know exactly where it is don't you?" She finished with an expression of outrage plastered across her face.

"Of course I do," he admitted with a smug grin, "it's where it should be. In its purpose built clamps on the bed-frame, under your side of the mattress. And, if all goes according to plan, I should have the bed stripped down in oh... about ten minutes." With a careless wink at her, he got to his feet and whistling 'Anchors Aweigh' he strolled towards the bedroom, breaking stride only to avoid the swat his outplayed and chagrined wife aimed in exasperation at his six.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

At just short of eight o'clock Harm backed his Lexus into the U-haul parking lot on K Street. As he had expected, Gunny Galindez was already there, his pick-up truck also ready to hook into a rental trailer. Harm slid out from behind the wheel and walked across the few yards of parking lot to greet the marine Staff Non-Com. As he neared the pick-up he was surprised to see a long baulk of timber, probably a length of eight by eight he thought, and what seemed to be at least a couple of miles of six-inch rope, neatly flaked down in four coils. He tapped on the driver's side window and stepped back as the Gunnery Sergeant slid to the ground at the same time as the passenger side door opened and a second man dismounted from the cab.

"Good morning, sir, a fine day for it." Galindez observed cocking an eye up at the clear blue sky.

"'Morning, Gunny. Yeah, it may be OK, but I've a feeling that we might like some cloud cover by the time we're through today!"

The stranger had come around the front of the truck and stood one pace back, evidently waiting to be acknowledged. "Sir, this is a friend of mine, Chief Bettridge, he used to be a Bosun's Mate. This is his gear in the truck."

"Chief, good to meet you." A somewhat puzzled Harm greeted him.

"You too sir!"

"Uh, sir, it's just that yesterday afternoon," Gunny Galindez started to explain, "right when we were securing, Lieutenant Roberts overheard me reminding the fatigue detail about today, and he asked me did I know that your apartment was on the third floor. So, I made a drive by and figured that it looked like it was going to be hard work, so... uh... well, the Chief is an old buddy, and we got together for a beer later and he figures that we can rig a block and tackle from the fire escape, and..."

"Yeah, I get the picture, Gunny; but tell me Chief, what's an old shellback like you doing associating with jarheads? Aren't you afraid of getting drummed out of the Chief's mess?" Harm couldn't resist tweaking Galindez' nose

Chief Bettridge grinned, "No, sir, the Gunny and his guys saved my butt once, so I figured I owed him one..."

"Which you paid back years ago!" Galindez interrupted

"Oh, well, in that case, when we're done today, you'll owe me one!"

"That's the way it goes, hey, Chief?" Harm confirmed, "and of course, it won't hurt to have a lawyer owing you one either, will it?"

"That it won't, sir!" The Chief agreed affably. Harm eyed him cautiously, he didn't look like the Big Bud Roberts type, but a sailor didn't get to be a Chief without a fair degree of cunning as well as spotless performance evals and competence.

It took only a few minutes to complete the paperwork and for Harm's credit card to be debited for the rental of two trailers, and only about fifteen more minutes to get back to the apartment building, where practically the first thing Harm spotted were two jeans and T-shirt clad men eyeing the fire escape, and although this was a notoriously bad neighbourhood, they looked too clean cut to be up to no good, besides it was no broad daylight and all the night crawlers had retreated into their holes until dusk. Harm turned to Galindez, "More friends of yours, Gunny?"

"No, sir, They're two of my guys," Chef Bettridge supplied, and then turning to his two sailors, yelled in a voice trained by competing against wind and sea, "You two! Front and centre!"

The two sailors doubled over and halted, not in a fully braced posture, but alert and ready to receive instructions. "Sir these two prize specimens are Bosun's Mate Two Shepherd and Gibbs. They're not much, but they're the best I could come up with in a hurry, and with some supervision they might not FUBAR the whole day! You hear me, you two?"

The broad grins on the two petty officers' faces, and their cheerful chorus of, "Aye, aye, Chief!" convinced Harm that they were not intimidated by the Chief's strictures, and that they were not only used to his particular form of mild abuse, but also respected the man who seemed to criticise them so harshly.

"Right then," Bettridge continued giving the two of them their instructions, and once they had started about their business he turned to Harm and confided, "Don't take my grumbling at them too hard, sir. They're good kids, and good at their jobs," and he grinned a slow grin, "not that I'm ever going to let them know that I think that!"

Harm laughed, "Too late, Chief, I think they've got your number!"

Twenty minutes proved the truth of Bettridge's words as the first cargo-net of fully loaded boxes slowly descended from the spar now firmly lashed to the fire escape and was received by Gunny's crew of marines, who with the aid of Harm and the newly arrived Jack Keeter emptied the net in record time and started loading the trailer hooked in to Gunny's pick-up truck.

Harm took advantage of a couple of minutes wait to make a good a promise he had made to himself yesterday, and descended upon an unsuspecting Skates and scooped her up in his arms, lifting her clean off her feet and causing her to throw her arms around him in an instinctive reaction against falling. He spun her round once before releasing her, so that she regained her footing breathless and laughing all at the same time.

"What was all that for?" she demanded, not quite sure why she had been so ruthlessly hugged, but not objecting either.

"That, Skates, is for watching my six just as closely as you did when we were flying together."

"What the hell are you going on about Hammer?" Her eyes reflected amusement and complete non-comprehension.

"I mean that when I 'phoned Keeter yesterday," he explained with an air of great patience, "to remind him we were moving today, he'd forgotten all about it. Then I heard you in the background giving him hell and telling him that you'd pick him up this morning and make sure he got here on time."

"And...?"

"And I made myself a promise that I'd give you an extra hug for watching out for me!"

"An extra hug?" she queried.

"Yep."

"So, that would mean that I was going to get a hug anyway, right?" her grin was twitching at the corners of her mouth.

"Uh... I guess," Harm eyed her warily. All of a sudden he wasn't too sure where this was going.

"So... If I've only had this one hug, then I'm still owed one, right?"

"Yes..."

"So stop standing there like a stone statue, and give me the extra hug you owe me!"

Relieved that this was all Skates was demanding, Harm wrapped his arms around her and gave her an enthusiastic, if not so exuberant as the previous, hug. As he released her Harm saw to his alarm that not only was she grinning broadly, but her eyes were dancing with laughter, but before he could say or do anything he heard Jen's voice, in completely fake weary resignation, "I'm sorry Beth, but he's totally incorrigible, I just can't stop him flirting with just about every female he encounters."

"Oh Jen!" Skates voice was loaded with spurious commiseration, "I'm so sorry for you, honey. You'd think with a gorgeous girl like you waiting at home for him, he'd learn to control himself!"

Harm spun on his heel, Jen was leaning against the side of 'vette only just managing to keep her laughter from breaking free and Skates wasn't in much better shape. How the hell did these women do it! He knew they hadn't had a chance to even speak to each other, let alone organise something like this. And it was uncannily like the crap that Loren and Jen had pulled on Keeter last week.

Knowing full well that any attempt to defend himself against their false accusations and insinuations was doomed to failure, he decided upon a dignified retreat and with a curt "Ladies!" he turned and headed back towards the work party, a smile of appreciation at the way he had just been pranked spreading across his face, as the two women behind him broke into unrestrained laughter.

With the block rigged and handled by Bettridge's men the task of emptying the apartment went swiftly and smoothly and as the trailer hooked in to Gunny's pick-up neared its fully loaded stage, Harm called Skates and Jen to him. "OK, ladies, nice one earlier. You got me done to a turn! It's time now for some serious stuff. Jen take the 'vette, carefully," he scowled at her to emphasise how earnest he was about her safety," over to Annandale Road; Skates would you please follow her, and make sure when Gunny's truck arrives, that she doesn't lift anything heavier than a finger. She can sit in a chair and direct the guys where to put everything, but nothing more, can you do that?" Skates nodded her head, "Jen, do you hear me, there?"

Jen pouted mutinously and reluctantly nodded her head, only just mollified by the rare chance to drive the 'vette, while Skates smiled and touched his forearm in reassurance, "I'll make sure she's good, Harm."

Harm covered her hand with his own. "I know you will, Beth. It's just that she can be so damn stubborn and I..." he stopped, not quite sure what he wanted to say.

Skates smiled again, "It's my turn to say 'I know', I guess."

Harm nodded as first the 'vette then Skates' Volvo pulled out of the alley and turned in the direction of Falls Church. Harm sighed deeply and returned to the business of helping with the loading of the two trailers.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

It was dusk when Harm took a last look around the now-empty apartment in which he had lived since '95. So much had happened since those days, the world had changed and there could never be a return to those days when life had seemed less precarious, less sinister. He had been - what was the phrase? Oh, yes, footloose and fancy free, happily flirting first with Kate and then with Meg, and now look at himself, he reflected, married, with a child - his and Jen's child - on the way, huge changes on a personal level, but he could not possibly be happier. He wandered through the apartment saying goodbye to it as much as he was doing a last minute check for any small items that might have been over-looked. At last with a final sigh, he flicked off the light switch, and locking the door for the final time, he grinned wryly at the always unreliable elevator, and opened the door to the stairwell.

He'd been over to Annandale Road earlier, and together with the rest of his motley crew had unloaded the contents of the two trailers and seen the contents safely distributed around the various rooms of the house before they had all finally taken a break.

The morning's cloudless sky had indeed been a promise of a hot late spring day, and everyone's T-shirts or shirts showed dark damp patches, and when stand easy had been called the troops had sought shelter in whatever patches of shade could be found in the back yard, and the chilled beer from Loren's ice-box had been enthusiastically greeted. That had been no surprise.

What had been a surprise however was the presence of Harriett Sims, who had driven up from Alexandria to help out, explaining that Bud had drawn the short straw and pulled baby-sitting detail, allowing her to take a break from coping with a rambunctious four year old.

Miraculously Harriett had managed to work successfully with Loren and together they had provided the huge casserole dishes of tuna and cheese pasta bake, sufficient feed the whole crew. Although the two blonde lieutenants had succeeded in working together for this one day at least, it was quite obvious that relations between them were still only just on the warm side of frosty, but when Harriett had made her excuses, claiming that she needed to get back to her baby, Harm had walked her out to her car, thanked her for helping out and complimented her on managing not to spill any of Loren's blood, Harriett had giggled, "Well, sir..."

"Harm," he corrected her, "Harriett, for about the four hundred and forty eleventh time, when we're off-duty, and especially when you're a guest in my home, my name is not 'sir', or 'commander', it's Harm. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," she had agreed and almost instantly realising what she had said, broke into giggles that developed into full laughter as Harm, exasperated as he might be, was unable to resist the humour of the situation.

"But go on..." he finally said to her as they stopped next to the Roberts' minivan.

"What was I saying...? Oh, yes, you were saying about not spilling blood. Well," she wrinkled her forehead, "it was a close call a couple of times, but we managed... and Lieutenant Singer's different, somehow, maybe just a little more pleasant to be around... I doubt we'll ever be close friends, but we'll probably survive each other's company, as long as we don't have to share it for too long or too often!"

"Harriett," he smiled as he draped his arm across her shoulders and gave her a squeeze, "you're a marvel. Drive safe now, and say 'hi' to Bud, and give my love to Little A J"

Harriett laughed softly again, "One day, I'm going to figure out a real punishment for Bud for not finding out the Admiral's names first!"

Harm stood and watched as Harriett drove off into the light Saturday afternoon traffic and returned to the yard to join in the banter and the desultory conversation before rounding up Gunny Galindez and suggesting that they return the trailers to K Street. With their departure, Chief Bettridge and his two sailors as well as Gunny's fatigue party started to make their own moves to depart, but the latter party was stopped by a ferocious command from Corporal Peterson to make sure that they thoroughly policed the area and not leave any of their crap lying around for the ladies to have to deal with. Gunny Galindez smiled as he and Harm walked out to their vehicles. "He's a good marine, that Peterson, it's about time he was re-assigned to somewhere he can get that third chevron. JAG HQ is a pretty easy billet as far as the Corps goes, but everyone knows that for the two or three years they're here, the chances of getting a step up are pretty few and far between. I guess I need to speak to Lieutenant Barber," he finished, naming the Marine Corps JAG Security Detail's OIC.

"An easy billet? Harm queried in surprise, "With Two Admirals almost permanently in the building, and Captains and Bird Colonels in and out all day and every day?"

"I said it was pretty easy, sir, and it beats getting your ass shot off!"

"Yeah, and you speak from experience, right, Gunny?" Harm grinned, remembering the Gunnery Sergeant's tale of being accidentally shot by a fellow New Mexico deputy, a 'Forrest Gump' wound he'd called it in deference to the presence of the female officers.

"You got that one right, sir!"

The trailers returned to the U-haul depot, Harm opened the rear door of the Lexus, and passed a carton marked with the name of a well known brand of Bourbon to Galindez. "There you go, Gunny, a bottle per man as promised, and make sure you tell your guys, and the Chief's that both Mrs Rabb and I say thank you to them!"

"Thank you, sir! Will do, and sir, good luck in your new home!"

Harm nodded his appreciation of the Gunny's good wishes and headed for the apartment near Union Station.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Satisfied that all was as well as could be expected at the Union Station apartment, Harm drove out to Falls Church, still unaccountably seized with an unnerving feeling of melancholy as he passed familiar landmarks and knew that this was probably the last time he would ever make this journey, still he grinned as he hit the 14th Street Bridge, he wouldn't miss the tailbacks here every morning! With that thought cheering him, he made a determined effort to shake of the unexpected feeling of gloom and to stop looking back at what was past, and instead to look forward to what was in the future.

On an early Saturday evening when most of the local population would be gathered either around their dinner tables, or in front of their TV sets the drive out to Annandale Road took only thirty minutes, a time he would have loved to have been able to allow when making the daily commute from DC to Falls Church, but with early morning and later afternoon traffic the journey had often taken up to three times as long. And that he grinned triumphantly was another reason to be cheerful! His new-found good mood suffered a slight set-back as he swung the wheel to bring the Lexus off the street and on to the gravelled apron in front of the garage. Parked behind Skates' Volvo was a gleaming black Ford Expedition that looked only too familiar. As he dismounted from the Lexus, Harm threw a quick look at the licence plate; yep, as he'd thought, it was the Admiral's ride. Dammit! What the hell did Chegwidden want! Was he inspecting his subordinates' new home, making sure that there could be no suspicion of improperly shared accommodation between Loren and the Rabb family? If he wanted to know these details, why the hell didn't he ask them at work, instead of snooping around as if he was on some sort of SEAL Recon? As he walked along the gravel path leading from the garage across the front of the house, he saw that Chegwidden was at the open front door and seemed to be arguing with someone. Harm felt a renewed rush of irritation, if Chegwidden was upsetting Jen, then admiral or no admiral, Harm would ask, no, would tell him to leave! Then his irritation faded into amusement as he realised that the older man was trying to conduct two arguments at the same time, and was well on his way to losing both. His arrival was greeted with relief by his visitor, who turned to him and said, "Rabb! Thank God you're back! Will you please try and talk some common sense into these two!" His sweeping gesture included not only Jen but also Amanda Brovo, both of whom were staring at the visitor with expressions of marked displeasure. He opened his mouth to ask what was the cause, or were the causes, of the disagreement, when both women started to speak at once. Trying, but failing, to understand their complaints, he held up both hands in a soothing gesture, and their dissatisfied faces now turned towards him, he turned to the admiral and said, "Look, sir, why don't you step inside, I'm pretty sure the kitchen's just about organised enough to allow me to get a pot of coffee to brew, and then we can discuss this in comfort instead of out here on a windy front porch!"

Jen's fierce "Ha!" of satisfaction did not escape his notice, and he turned an inquiring eyebrow on her, "That's exactly what I've been trying to get this stubborn old... Admiral," In the light of the reproving look she got from her husband, Jen hastily amended whatever it was she had been just about to blurt out, "to do. He's driven all the way out here to bring Mrs Brovo home, and now he won't come in, not even just for a coffee!"

"Legalman... uh... Mrs Rabb, a ten minute drive from McLean to here, doesn't really qualify as "all the way", and you've not finished moving in yet, so you don't need the interruption..."

"Actually, Admiral, we do need the interruption! We've had a long day, we're all strung out, and your visit gives us the chance to sit down and unwind for ten minutes!"

Chegwidden turned to Harm, "Dammit Rabb, what have you done to her? I don't recall her being this stubborn when she worked for me!" he said plaintively.

"Sir, you have no idea just how mule-headed she can be! I guess the reason you never found out is that she got to be an expert at handling you!"

Chegwidden winced and looked at Jen with fresh eyes, "OK then, Mrs Rabb, thank you, I will step in for ten minutes, but no more. Rabb," he whispered in an aside as Jen stepped back to let him enter the house, "I hope the hell you know what you're doing!"

"So do I sir, so do I!" Harm agreed fervently.

The living room was still in a condition that could best be classed as chaotic, and one of the yet to be unpacked boxes was hastily pressed into service as a coffee table, an event which the admiral protested proved his point that the Rabbs weren't ready to receive visitors, a comment that earned him a glare from Jen. Chegwidden gulped, he'd see that expression somewhere before and it sent an unwelcome frisson down his spine, "Have you been spending time with Colonel... uh, no... no, of course not, dumb question, sorry." He took a sip of his coffee as his face reddened. Then it came to him! "Singer!" he blurted out, "Legalman... uh... Mrs Rabb, you have evidently been spending far too much time around Lieutenant Singer!"

"Did somebody call me?" Loren's voice overloaded with honey-sweetness sounded from the doorway to the hallway, in Admiral Chegwidden's six. Chegwidden closed his eyes in silent anguish for a second or two and on reopening found that both the Rabbs, Keeter and even Amanda Brovo were looking at him with laughter only just suppressed as they enjoyed his embarrassment. Sighing, he rose to his feet and turned to view his tormentor; this he knew was going to cost him and probably the whole of JAG long weeks of scowls and snide comments. She was not alone however, she was cradling a small shawl-wrapped bundle in her arms and standing next to her was another equally petite and vaguely familiar brunette.

"Good evening, Lieutenant... and...?"

"Lieutenant Commander Hawkes, sir," Loren supplied, "You met her at the Commander's wedding," she nudged his memory.

"Of course! Yes. You were with..." he cast his eyes about the room and fortunately the name came to him before it became obvious that he was searching, "with Commander Keeter!" he finished triumphantly, but then he frowned, there was something wrong with this picture... It wasn't until he approached Loren and indicating the bundle, asked, "May I?" that a suspicion began to dawn.

Loren smiled, and said, "Of course," and much to A J's surprise, he had after all, only expected to have been allowed a better look at the baby, found that Loren was holding her out, fully expecting him to take hold of her daughter. Long buried and half-forgotten memories surfaced in time for him to accept the burden and settle her comfortably in the crook of his arm, ensuring that her tiny head was well supported, and then as he looked around he saw that not only was Lieutenant Singer actually smiling - and that was what had felt strange - but the same fond expression was on the faces of everyone in the room. Despite his own smile, Chegwidden was still an admiral, and managed to growl, "This didn't happen!"

The chorus of "No, sir!" and "Of course not, sir!" were hardly said with enough conviction to reassure the senior officer, and his discomfiture was completed by a burst of bright light characteristic of a camera flash, just beyond the edge of his peripheral vision. His head shot up and swivelled on his neck to be met by a circle of perfectly blank and innocent faces. Unable to identify a culprit, he decided that his best course of action for the moment was to ignore the entire incident.

"I do believe Lieutenant that I once remarked on how beautiful your daughter was?"

"Uh... yes, sir!"

"Well you'll be relieved to hear perhaps, that in the three weeks since I last saw her, she has grown in beauty! Congratulations, Loren."

Her CO's casual use of her first name left Loren Singer, for once in her life as a lawyer, totally speechless, but then after a few tongue-tied seconds, she managed a half-strangled, "Th... thank you... sir!" as she automatically held out her arms as the admiral made to hand her baby back to her.

Now that he was on his feet Chegwidden picked up and drained his coffee cup, and turning to Amanda Brovo, told her, "Amanda, I don't have any more time to argue with you tonight, so I'll see you at oh-nine-hundred hours on Monday, ready for movement. Mrs Rabb, thank you for inviting me in for coffee. When you're more properly settled both at work and at home, I look forward to hear how life is treating you! Commanders, Lieutenant, goodnight."

Harm quit his seat, "I'll walk you out, sir!"

Chegwidden grunted his thanks, and as Harm opened the front door for him he said, "By the way, Rabb, if a copy of that photograph ever appears in the office, it will be your six that I'll be chewing on - got it?"

"Aye, aye sir!"

"H'mm. Rabb, it looks like you've got an almost ideal set-up here." He paused and looked the younger man up and down, "Don't take any chances. Get a second mail box set up for Singer, and if you can work out a separate access for her, then so much the better. Oh no," he held up his hand to stop any protest, "I know there's nothing underhand going on and that all you're trying to do is provide a family environment for your brother's child..."

Harm interrupted his chief, "And for Loren singer's Child, sir."

"Yes. Yes, you're perfectly correct. My apologies. That's twice this evening I've let bias affect my thoughts. I'll have to do better. Goodnight, Rabb!"

"Good night, sir!" Harm watched the Expedition pull out into the street and turn northwards for downtown Falls Church and then onto McLean. On returning to the family room, he found Skates pouring a glass of wine for Mrs Brovo, while Keeter had conjured a case of cold beer from somewhere, At Harm's raised eyebrow he leaned back in his seat and grinned as he raised an already open bottle in salute, "Mrs Rabb has made it perfectly clear that Beth and I are required for further fatigue detail tomorrow, and had provided us with suitable overnight accommodation, so I couldn't see any point in letting good, cold beer go to waste!"

"Good point, Keeter," Harm agreed twisting the top off a bottle for himself.

"Oh, well, iced tea for us I suppose, Loren," Jen sighed with a wistful look at the beer being passed to Skates.

"Yeah, the sacrifices we make!" Loren pretended to grumble, but then as she looked down at Alexandra her voice softened to a croon as she added, "but you are so, so worth every single one of them."

For a second Harm thought he was the only one who had heard Skates catch her breath, but as Loren and Jen both looked at her with inquiring glances, Keeter looked at her in much the same way as a rabbit might look at a rattlesnake, and then realising that he was coming under scrutiny managed to force his face into a grin, although not a very convincing one, Harm told himself.

Later, as Jen, yawning mightily, joined him under the comforter in their new bedroom, he ventured to ask, "What did Keeter mean by 'suitable accommodation'?"

"Oh," she murmured sleepily, "I told them they could use either or both of the two spare rooms, and left the choice up to them."

Harm chuckled quietly, whatever nefarious plans Keeter may have had in mind, he was betting that Skates' reaction to Loren and Alexandra almost guaranteed that both the spare rooms would be in use tonight.

Jen felt the rumble of laughter deep in his chest and mumbled, "wassofnny?"

"Nothing, nothing at all," Harm whispered to her and dropping a kiss on the top of her head he whispered again, "Sleep tight, little girl."

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen's nose wrinkled and she moved her head slightly to the side looking for relief from whatever was irritating her. Whatever it was it damn persistent, and her eyes still shut, she wrinkled her nose again and bringing a hand out from under the comforter she tried to swat away whatever was bugging her. Whatever it was, she seemed to have banished it and sighing with sleepy satisfaction she felt herself slipping back into the depths. Dammit! Whatever it was, the damn thing was back! Furious she sat bolt upright in bed only to have her ears assailed by the sound stifled chuckles coming from her husband. Glaring at him she saw that not only was he red-faced from the effort of holding in his laughter, he was also holding a feather which must have worked its way out of one the pillows.

Giving him a glare that matched the best combined efforts of Mac and Loren she snarled at him, "That is so not funny, sailor!"

"Well," he said blandly, but keeping a wary eye on her - past experience had shown that on occasion she wasn't above using a pillow as a bludgeon - "You seemed to think it was when you did it to me a few days ago."

Jen thought back, she easily remembered the occasion to which he was referring - and to what his awakening had led, and a reluctant grin creased her face, "Yeah, it was funny, and you know what was better," she turned on her side and ran her finger nails down his breastbone.

"I do, but I'm afraid, little girl, this old-timer was all fired up last night, but... it seems that the youth of today just haven't got the stay-power like us oldsters!"

Jen stared at him blankly. What in the world was he talking about... and then she remembered teasing him yesterday morning about age, youth and stamina, and flopping back on to her pillow, she covered her eyes with a forearm and said despairingly, "You're not going to let this one go quickly, are you?"

Harm was so quiet or so long that Jen lifted her forearm slightly and hopefully squinted one-eyed at him. A beatific smile was etched on to his face and he looked her straight in the eye and said, "Nope."

"I could try and persuade you to make it go away," she suggested.

"You could," he agreed swinging his legs out of bed and shuffling his feet into his bath clogs, "but not this morning, not with a houseful of guests, who'll be up and about in a very short time."

"Damn guests," grumbled Jen as she too slid out of bed. "I'll race you to the shower!" she challenged, Harm shouted his agreement, and then in the interest of domestic peace, diplomatically hung back just enough to let her edge in before him.

Twenty minutes later Harm was at the kitchen stove conjuring up batch after batch of pancakes, while Jen set the coffee brewing and concentrated on scrambling sufficient eggs to feed all five adults.

Skates was the first to appear and wolfed down her portion while carrying on a conversation with Jen that Harm half wished he hadn't heard. "So, Beth... " Jen asked with a gleam of humour in her eyes, "how many rooms did you and Keeter use last night?"

Harm spluttered into his coffee as Skates without the slightest hesitation or embarrassment said, "We actually haven't got that far ahead in our... whatever it is, yet. But even if we had, I think if I'd suggested last night that we share the one room, the last we'd have seen of Keeter was a cloud of dust heading in the general direction of the horizon."

Jen giggled at the mental picture that Skates conjured up, and looking at her sideways said, "You are bad!"

"I know," sighed Skates, "which reminds me, I need to go and seek absolution for my sins, you don't know if there's a Catholic Church in the area do you?"

Jen looked dumbfounded, she should have remembered that Skates was a regular church-goer, and she turned pleading eyes towards Harm, who took up the baton effortlessly.

"Yes, St Phillip's is about a mile away. Turn right out of the drive, then first left and then second left and about eight hundred yards along on the right. Mass is at oh-seven-hundred, oh-nine-hundred and sixteen-hundred. Confession was yesterday from sixteen to nineteen-hundred hours. Christenings, marriages and funerals by negotiation with the parish priest, Father Edwards". He grinned at the two women who sat looking at him with stunned faces. "Look at me: this is me being smug," he told them, "I remembered Beth asking about Mass when she and Keeter were down for the wedding."

Beth decided she'd attend the oh-nine-hundred service and piling her plate and mug into the sink asked Jen where she could turn her hand for the hour before she left for church. Jen smiled gratefully and suggested that there were a stack of boxes in the living room that needed unpacking. Once they were unpacked she could decide exactly where the contents should go.

Keeter on his arrival for breakfast was summarily dealt with and told to go and connect up the computer equipment in the office and not to show his face until it was satisfactorily set up. Feeling somewhat aggrieved, having a feeling that he was being picked on for some unknown reason, he nevertheless did as he was told.

Harm watched his long-time friend disappear under the desk with an armful of cables turned back towards Jen just in time to hear her say quietly and approvingly to Skates, "He's learning."

"Yeah, he is. Jen, despite his rep, he really is a sweet guy underneath, he's worth keeping, and I can't figure how none of his previous girls ever made the effort."

Harm came up behind them and placed a hand on each of their shoulders, "That's an easy question to answer Beth; he never found a girl that he thought was worth letting in that close - until now."

Skates gasped, and grabbed for a Kleenex from her purse as she sniffed and then said, "Dammit Hammer, don't do that!"

Jen looked at him in some surprise, this damn' man of hers, the one who Sarah MacKenzie had consistently characterised as emotionless and unromantic was nothing of the sort, he was full of the best kind of emotions and was proving to be surprisingly perceptive...


	29. Exploring Boundaries and Mending Fences,

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 29  
>Exploring Boundaries and Mending Fences<strong>

Jen sighed in sheer ecstasy as she slid further down the bath so that only her head was above water, her chin just touching the surface. "I knew there was a good reason for wanting to live here. And this bath is it!"

"Oh, so nothing to do with the fact that there's more than one bedroom," Harm, stripped down to just his jeans paused in the act of getting ready to join her in the bath, and gently mocking continued, "a safe back yard, a family room with an open fire - something which I might add you insisted upon - and that you've got a loving husband to share it with you, and that the price was right?"

"Oh, those were all factors, I grant you," but Jen airily waved a suds-coated arm, casually dismissing, Harm's list of advantages as hardly worthy of consideration, "But, no. The clincher for me was this old-fashioned, deep and very big bath-tub. Almost big enough for two, when you think about it…" She left her sentence unfinished and half-closed her eyes, lazily looking up at Harm from under her eyelids.

"Yeah," he smiled, slipping out of his boxers, "I'm thinking, I'm thinking."

"Aah," she breathed as she scooted forwards to let him slide in behind her, "Think not, Skywalker; do."

"Skywalker!" he protested in mock horror, "Jennifer Rabb, if you ever, ever call me that in public, I'll… I'll… I'll…" he looked around the bathroom for inspiration, as he could feel Jen, leaning back his chest, fighting against her urge to giggle, "I'll…I'll use your razor to shave a towel!" he threatened her.

Jen let the giggles free, "That is a gruesome thought! And if I thought for one second that you meant it, I'd file for divorce on the spot! Do you know any good attorneys?" she asked innocently.

"Nope, a bunch of shysters, all of 'em," he grunted. "Looks like you're stuck with me!"

"Oh, I don't know," she replied naughtily, wriggling her butt back into his groin, "it seems more like that I'm getting stuck _by_ you!"

"Jennifer Coates - behave yourself!" he exploded, torn half-way between laughter and shock at her lack of decorum.

Jen laughed delightedly, "Harmon Rabb, you are such a prude!"

"Am not."

Later, lying together in bed, Jen rolled on her side and said, "We need to do something nice for Jack and Beth."

"H'mm, why?" and then as he took in the possible sub-text of what she had said, he engaged her eyes with his own, "What are you up to Jen? Be careful about interfering there… Jack and Skates are two of my oldest and closest friends, and yes, I'd like to see them both happily settled, and if that turns out to be with each other, then so much the better. But we, neither of us, mustn't push."

"Oh, no… I wasn't thinking about that… well, not at the moment anyway… No, I was just thinking how much help they've been to us over the last month. They came to support you, us really, at our wedding. Last week they gave up their Saturday to help Loren, whom they hardly know, just because you asked them, and now they gave up the whole of this weekend to help us - and," she giggled briefly, "Jack even brought a case of beer!"

"Probably because he was afraid that with you pregnant and Loren nursing, that I'd get all puritanical and not allow beer in the house!"

"Really?"

"Well probably not, but with Keeter, you never can tell!"

"Uh-huh, and how about Beth?"

"What do you mean, how about Beth?" he asked

"Well… sometimes, you seem so close, that I feel... not jealous… well… not exactly, more… envious perhaps…"

Hearing the serious note creeping into her voice, Harm looked at her more closely. "I could just laugh off jealousy because that would be ridiculous, but… why the envy, sweetheart?"

Jen smiled deprecatingly, "Oh, I know it's silly, but at times you two seem so close, you seem to be able to communicate without speaking, on an entirely different level, like when… when you sent me on ahead on Saturday with the 'vette. I saw you speaking with Beth, and I know you told her to make sure I behaved myself, but the thing is, that both of you seemed to be saying so much without words…"

Harm thought for a moment or two, he knew exactly how he felt about Beth, and he knew exactly why he felt as he did, and he knew just how they understood each other so well, but these were difficult concepts for him to put into words. At length he decided to give it his best shot, and hope that Jen would be able to understand his doubtless incomplete explanation. "Beth and I have an understanding that is based on our flying together. We had to come to trust each other completely just to stay alive. All pilots and RIOs have to have that. They don't necessarily have to like each other, at least not to start with, but they have to be able to trust each other. In our case, we were lucky, Beth and I found it easy to get on with each other even when we weren't in the air, so we spent a lot of time just hanging around the ready room drinking coffee and talking, or lazing around the wardroom, drinking coffee and talking; there's not much else to do on a carrier when you aren't flying or briefing or de-briefing or sleeping, and after a while you start to learn how the other guy thinks, so you can start talking about something, and the other knows what you're going to say before you finish saying it. So, yes, you get really close to your back-seater, maybe too close sometimes, but that relationship comes out of fear, and the instinct, the drive, the need to survive. What we have going for us Jen, is different and it is still growing for us, is a relationship that comes out of love, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

Jen looked at him with troubled eyes; this fear-driven need was something that she had never really considered. "Do people, pilots with female RIOs ever get too close, in that way, you know, sexually? I mean, I know you and Beth never did, but other people, maybe?"

"No… I don't think so… it would be too obvious on a carrier, and the CAG would have one or both transferred out so fast it would make their heads spin, and besides when I said that pilots and RIOs can get too close, I meant that they can get too close for a romantic relationship… I dunno, it seems like it would almost be incestuous. Look at Beth and me, we're like brother and sister."

Yeah, Jen thought, remembering her talk last week with Beth, but only because you could never see past the flight suit to the woman underneath. But she allowed the subject to drop as she returned to her original contention, "We still need to do something nice for them for them helping us out so much."

Harm leaned over and dropped a gentle kiss on her lips, "Yeah, you're right. Why don't we have a think about it tomorrow, and see if we can come up with a suitable idea. In the meantime, have I told you what a fantastic job I think you did setting our home to rights?"

"No… but… I think," Jen answered slowly, "that you could… uh… show me how pleased you are?"

At breakfast the following morning Jen had again brought up the subject of doing something nice for Beth and Skates, "After all, I'm taking Loren and Sasha up to Belleville for the weekend, and it wouldn't do to play favourites would it?" she said innocently.

Harm put down his mug of coffee and pushed his plate with the slice of egg-toast to one side, and fighting to keep his voice even he asked, "You're going to do what?"

"Loren and I are taking Alexandra and we're going to spend the weekend with Grams Sarah at Belleville."

"Uh… since when did this happen?"

"How about, since we talked about it when we were on the way up there, the Monday after our wedding?" Jen was beginning to sound defensive.

"Well… yeah, we talked about it in general terms, but we hadn't settled on a specific weekend."

"No, then we hadn't, but now we have." Jen stated baldly.

"But why so soon, Jen. Why don't you wait a few weeks until we've all gotten over the stress of moving?"

"Because we don't have a few weeks. In a few weeks, I'm not going to be able to sit in a car for three hours, because little Miss Rabb here, is going to be jumping up and down on my bladder, and my belly will probably grow so big that I won't be able to wear a seat belt. And don't forget, Loren has only one week of her maternity leave left, so she's going to be rushing around getting her uniforms sorted, and confirming the baby-sitter, and all sorts of things, so this weekend is the last convenient time for us to make the trip!" The level of her voice had risen as she spoke, and although she couldn't truthfully be said to be yelling, she was only a few decibels off reaching that stage. Jen drew a deep breath, visibly making an attempt to calm herself, "And anyway, the arrangements are already made; Grams Sarah is expecting us, and she says she can't wait to meet her first great-grandchild. Now, you're not going to ask me to disappoint Grams Sarah, are you?"

Harm glowered at her, "No, I'm not going to ask you to disappoint Grams Sarah. What time do you want us to leave on Friday?"

"Excuse me? What's this 'us' thing?" Jen raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Well, if we're going to Belleville on Friday, what time do we want to leave?"

"Harm '_we'_, that is you and me, are not going to Belleville," she told him with great patience. "The '_we' _going to Belleville are Loren, Sasha and I. You," she added pointedly, "are not invited!"

"Jen!" he protested.

"No, Harm. Like I said, we have discussed this. Loren needs to feel fully accepted into the family, not just because you've sponsored her, but because she is who she is. Grams Sarah, with the exception of you, is the only living blood-relative Sasha has." Jen's voice turned from argument to plea as she added, "Can't you see how important this is going to be for Loren, that she is accepted as something other than a homeless kitten that you and Trish took under your wing?"

Harm recognised the truth in what Jen said, and sighed, holding up his hands in gesture of surrender, "I hate it when you are so damned logical," he grumbled, "and when you're so damned right!"

"But you love me for it too, though, don't you?" Jen smiled at him across the kitchen table, all signs of displeasure now gone from her face and voice.

"Yeah, I guess… Yeah, I do… But, there is one condition; you take the SUV! I don't trust your Escort to make that trip there and back, and you are so not taking the 'vette, and Sasha's car seat won't fit in the Miata and…"

"Yes, dear."

"Excuse _me_, this time?"

"I was going to ask to borrow the SUV for the weekend. Apart from any considerations of reliability, roadworthiness or safety, it's the only car out of the four that will have enough room for Loren, me, Sasha and all Sasha's necessaries!" Jen said reasonably.

"Oh."

"So, now that I've put you straight on life, the universe and everything. How about you (a) doing the dishes and (b) start thinking about how we're going to do something nice for Beth and Jack, while I get my pretty little six into my unreliable little Ford and head for the fun factory, before I'm late for work?"

"Umm… how come I get stuck with the breakfast dishes?"

"Because I have further to drive than you, so I need to leave those few minutes earlier!" Jen told him triumphantly just before she dropped onto his lap and kissed him so thoroughly that she took his breath away. "There." she told him in a voice redolent with satisfaction, as she stood and gently patted his cheek, "that should hold you until I get home!"

"Yes, dear."

Harm dutifully policed up the breakfast dishes and having rinsed them under running water, had just stacked them in the dishwasher when Loren knocked on the kitchen door, "Can I come in?"

Harm straightened from the dishwasher and was in the process of shrugging into his blues jacket when Loren, Alexandra, in a sling at her breasts, entered the kitchen.

Harm smiled at the picture they made, "Good morning Loren, how are you, and how's my favourite niece?"

Loren's eyes scanned the kitchen, and her face fell as she answered, "Good morning Harm, Alexandra's being very good this morning, aren't you, precious? Umm… has Jen left already?"

"Yeah, about ten minutes ago. Was there something special you wanted, Loren?"

"Oh, no… not particularly… it's just… Oh, look, I don't want to make you late, but can you spare five minutes?

"Of course I can. I can spare as many minutes as you want. Do you want a coffee, it won't…"

"No, no thank you, Harm. This is a bit embarrassing; it seems that ever since we got back from La Jolla, I've relied on you, or Frank, to drive Sasha and myself everywhere. Well, I needed to go to the store this morning, but I can't fit the car-seat into the Miata, and as we don't have a baby-sitter yet, I was hoping to ask Jen…"

"Have you got a list?" Harm smiled, holding out his hand.

Loren went slightly pink, "Uh, yes, but I don't have any cash… I was going to either find an ATM or pay by card and…"

"Don't worry, I'll pick up what you need at the store, and bring you a receipt, then when Jen comes home, we can look after Alexandra, while you go out and do what you have to do. You can find an ATM then, and pay me back when you get home."

"Are you sure…"

"Sure I'm sure…" he hesitated, "But Loren, if you can't fit the car seat into the Miata, then…"

"Oh, I know," she sighed, I'll have to trade it in, but…"

"You love it, right?" he asked sympathetically.

"Yeah, I've had that car ever since I got my mill rindes, it was a sort of graduation present from myself…"

Harm raised his brows in surprise, "You've had it that long? From new? Have you got a full service history?"

"Umm… yes, yes, and yes, why?"

"It'll help get you a good deal on the trade-in, that's why!"

Unfortunately, judging by the look on Loren's face that hadn't been much comfort.

Although sympathizing with Loren, and despite his earlier assurance that he had all the time in the world, Harm had to keep at least half an eye on the clock, and it was with a mixture of relief, amusement and exasperation that when Loren realised just how late he was likely to be she herded him out of the house and into the Lexus, and then stood, still with Alexandra in her sling, waving him goodbye from the yard-gate.

"Sheesh, give a guy a break!" he said out loud, as he took a last look in the rear-view mirror to see her watching him out of sight, "It's as bad as having two wives!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Well aware of his tardiness, Harm slid into the bull-pen like an otter easing itself into the water, with as little splash as possible, and sank into his office chair with a sigh of relief, and promptly buried his head in the files and documents that sat in an uninviting pile in his in box, where he was left in peace, until a knock on his door frame distracted him. Looking down at him Mac gave him an uncertain smile, as he gazed warily at her. "Uh… were you thinking of going to staff call?" she asked him in an attempt at humour.

This was the first sentence she had exchanged with him since last week, when he and Jen had walked into the bull-pen together, and not quite sure how he should respond, he simply nodded. Mac tried to make her smile a little friendlier, as she also nodded and said, "Well, you'd better get your six in gear then." She stood by the door as he picked up his brief-case, and at his cocked eyebrow, querying why she was still there, she gave a little half-shrug and said "Walk with me, flyboy?" in a muffled voice.

Harm looked at her critically. Outwardly she was still the squared-away, kick-ass, arm-wrestling and tattooed jarhead to whom he had once lost his heart, but underneath that exterior, she seemed saddened and… lost, maybe. He was still not entirely sure of her real reaction to his marriage, and was still more or less anticipating an eruption of Vesuvian proportions, especially after the distance she had maintained for the last week, but if she felt like offering an olive branch, and the use of her nickname for him seemed to suggest she did… and truth to tell, he had missed their camaraderie, despite their fights, they had worked well as a partnership, and they'd had their good times, and watched each other's backs and saved each other's six more time than they cared to remember.

Harm came to a decision, "OK, sure, why not?" He gathered up his belongings and with Mac at his elbow they crossed the bull-pen, he trying to ignore the surprised looks they received from some quarters, while she did appear oblivious to them. Their entry into the conference room raised no eyebrows, but Harm was surprised, as it seemed were the rest of the senior staff, when Mac instead of taking her usual seat opposite Harm, chose to sit next to him.

After the bustle of the admiral's arrival and resettling in chairs, Harm was sure that their CO had taken note of Mac's revised seating choice, but his face was, as usual, hard to read and he made no comment. The day's business concluded he rose to dismiss his officers, and as Harm collected the files for the two new cases he was to prosecute, Mac laid a hand on his forearm, delaying his exit.

"Harm, we… no… I really need to talk to you…" she seemed strangely embarrassed, and even shy, "Can… can we grab a coffee and a sandwich, and find somewhere quiet for lunch.." She saw the doubt in his eyes, and added, somewhat desperately, he thought, "Please?"

He looked her straight in the eyes, seeking a clue as to why she seemed so set on their meeting, but seeing nothing but hope, he nodded and replied with a curt, "OK. My office twelve-thirty."

Her "Thank you, Harm," shook him slightly, by the amount of relief those three little words expressed.

Twelve-thirty-five saw them walking the three blocks to Cherry Hill Park, where Mac swooped on the hot-dog cart, and returned a few minutes later with her sandwich, which Harm eyed with a shudder, and without giving his actions a second though, he placed a hand at the small of Mac's back and guided her towards a bench a few yards away. Mac would normally have glared at him for daring to guide her, but this time, she felt a small glow of pleasure at his touch. She'd had no physical contact with anyone since she'd fought with Harm over her suspicion that he was the father of Loren Singer's child, and it came as a shock to her, that the occasional light touches she'd tolerated from him, had been the only physical contact she'd had with anyone since Mic had stormed out of her life and back to Australia. That realisation only deepened her sadness.

Waiting until she had seated herself, Harm opened the brown paper sack he'd been carrying and produced two large Styrofoam mugs of hot coffee before taking his own seat, not too close to her, nor at the furthest extent of the bench but with a friendly twelve inches or so between them. For a few minutes neither of them spoke as Mac finished her sandwich and fastidiously wiped her fingers clean on the wad of paper napkins she had snagged off the hot-dog stand.

Finished at last, she leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees, cradling her coffee in both hands. Harm gave her a few more seconds to speak; after all she was the one who'd wanted this meeting, but when she kept silent he prompted her, "And?" he inquired coolly.

"Umm… I need to talk with you Harm, I want… to try to… I want to get us… I want…" whatever she wanted, she was taking her own sweet time about it, he thought irritatedly.

"_What_ do you want, Mac?"

She mumbled something indistinct. "Mac, stop wasting my time. Either tell me, clearly and distinctly what you want, or I'm going back to work!"

"I want my best friend back!" she snapped at him, turning her face towards him so that he saw to his embarrassed surprise that her face was a picture of misery and her eyes were filled with tears. That face, those tears and the longing in her voice dispelled his momentary irritation with her.

"I am still here," he told her gently.

She shook her head, "No, no you're not. Not really. Harmon Rabb is still here, but Sarah MacKenzie's best friend isn't. And it's all her fault."

"Mac…"

"No, Harm please, don't interrupt. I need to say this, and I've been rehearsing it all week, although I'll probably fluff my lines. I've not been fair to you. And it's been like that for a while; since you changed designators. I felt betrayed and left behind when you moved on and I've been unreasonable about that ever since you came back to JAG. I didn't understand, I don't think I wanted to understand, what you said in Sydney, and I let myself drift along in Mic's plans until you crashed that Tomcat into the ocean. But even after that, I couldn't let myself treat you properly, and in the end you got tired of me…"

"No, Mac, I've never been tired of you…"

"Well, then, you got tired of my stupid behaviour…"

Harm was content to let that one pas.

"And you started looking around for someone else, someone to treat you properly, and although I shouldn't have blamed you for that, I did. But it was my fault, I'd played fast and loose just once too often. Then I thought you'd gotten yourself involved with Singer! Singer of all people! That felt like a real slap in the face, that you thought you were better off with Loren Singer than you had been with me! And I blamed you and her for that. Then while I was still mad at you over that, you told me that our deal was off, because you were going to marry Jennifer Coates! And she wasn't even an officer; yes, stupid of me I know, but blamed you for that too. I blamed you for leaving me behind again; I blamed you for breaking your promise; I blamed Jennifer for stealing you from me, but the truth was I never really had you, or if I had at one time, then I really screwed the pooch, big time, and I lost you, and that was my fault, not yours or Jennifer's. I blamed the admiral for not preferring charges against you both. In fact, I blamed everyone and everything else around me, and I didn't blame the one person who was really responsible. I didn't blame me. And I should have done. It was all my fault. And even when you came back after your leave, I still couldn't see what was obvious, and although I thought I'd said all the right things to you last week, I can't have done. Because although we've worked together this last week, and even faced each other across the aisle, there was something missing, and that something is my best friend. Harm, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for the stupid way I've been acting for so long. Please accept that, and please come back and be my rock, be my anchor and be my best friend again. Please?"

Mac turned away from him so that he shouldn't see that her tears were threatening to overflow her eyes, and that she was biting her lip, terrified that he would again reject her.

To say that he was taken aback, Harm thought, might just about qualify for the understatement of the century. Sarah MacKenzie had not just admitted that she'd been wrong, she'd even apologised to him. OK, she hadn't made specific apologies for specific events, but a blanket apology for two and a half years of capricious behaviour was far more than he'd ever expected to hear. And the difficulty she'd had in framing and then making that apology spoke more of her regret than perhaps the words did themselves. He reached out his hand and gently grasped her shoulder, giving her a little shake.

"Hey, jarhead, I never went away, I was just sad because I was missing my best friend too. She wasn't talking to me."

She turned back then to look at him. Her eyes searched his face, and she gave a little hiccup as she found whatever it was she was looking for there, and grabbed her purse, searching in its depths for a Kleenex. His voice stopped her, "Here, take this," he suggested, holding out to her a clean, white, cloth handkerchief.

Mac mopped her eyes and blew her nose before somewhat sheepishly offering to return the handkerchief to him. He eyed it with disfavour, and then with that twinkle back in his eye, for the first time in a week, as he turned his eyes to her and said, "Uh… no… that's OK, Mac. You… uh… keep hold of it..." he paused, "Mac, I know friendship is supposed to be unconditional, and I really do want my favourite jarhead back as my best friend too, but it's going to be difficult for both of us, if you carry on hating Jen."

"I don't hate her, Harm… truly I don't, but maybe subconsciously I always knew that if there was one woman in your life that could really steal your heart from you, who could accept you for everything that you are, then Jen was that woman. And if she's made you happy, then I am glad for you. I promise I won't hate her, but it might take me a bit of time to go back to liking her. Can you give me that time?"

Harm nodded. He'd made his point and Mac had made what for her was a major concession. He could now only place his trust in the future and hope that he and Mac could return to a place very near where they had been before. He checked his watch and said, "Mac…?"

"I know," she sighed, "the time…"

She got to her feet as he stood waiting for her, and the two officers, in companionable silence, all tension between them vanished, at least for the moment, walked slowly back to the JAG building.


	30. Unsettling Down

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 30  
>Unsettling Down<strong>

Harm and Mac's lunchtime exit together hadn't gone totally unnoticed at JAG, and Harriett Sims, seeing them go looked across the bull pen and catching her husband's eye, nodded in the direction of the two departing officers and raise her eyes to the heavens in an unspoken plea. Bud crossed the bull pen to her and raised an inquiring eyebrow.

Harriett looked at him with hope in her blue eyes, "Bud, the Colonel and the Commander have just gone out to lunch together for the first time since he got back from leave, do you think…"

Bud looked at her thoughtfully, "Well, given the lack of fireworks last week when he and Jen came back married…" he shook his head, how had everyone at JAG missed that. It seemed that admiral was the only person who'd seen that one coming. Even when Harm and Jen had taken leave at the same time, no-one had cottoned on. Well, there was some excuse, after all, the whole thing was so preposterous, and so totally unlike the Commander! Bud shook his head again to try and get his brain back on track. "Anyway, given the lack of fireworks, except for those few minutes when she thought the Commander was Loren's baby's father, it could only go one of two ways: either the Colonel would throw a massive…" he broke off trying to find a diplomatic way to finish his sentence.

"Tantrum?" Harriett suggested with a slight smile, although the worried crease between her brows didn't totally disappear.

"Well, I wasn't going to say that, I think… but, yes, until I can find a better word. So it was either that, or they'd make an attempt to get back to being friends…" He saw renewed hope in his wife's face and felt compelled to add, "But don't go getting your hopes up too high Harriett, it won't be the same for them as before…"

"Why not?" Harriett demanded pugnaciously.

Bud sighed, "Because the Commander is married to Jen, now. It changes things," he ended vaguely.

"What things?" Harriett stood her ground.

"Well… Do you remember how you felt about the other women I was friendly with? Like Millie over at archives?"

Harriett bristled. Oh yes, she remembered that man-eating, would-be husband stealing…

"Well, Bud continued, "We don't know whether Jen is going to be as fiercely…" He stopped panic stricken as he realised he was just about to accuse his wife of jealousy, and he gulped, hoping that his expression wouldn't give him away, "protective as you!" he finished triumphantly.

Harriett's eyes had started to narrow, but as Bud paused for breath, she smiled happily, "Oh, Bud, is that how you see me?" she asked wistfully.

"Of course it, sweetie, you've always looked after me!" he enthused.

"That, Bud Roberts, is because I love you," she said softly, a sappy smile spreading over her face.

Nearly five years of marriage had trained Bud well, "And I love you too, sweetie," he replied. And in fairness, Bud did love his wife.

Harriett smiled happily and moue'ed a kiss at her husband as she turned back to her desk and sat down, still smiling at her keyboard.

Bud heaved a silent sigh of relief. He knew there had to have been a reason for studying argument at law school.

Neither Bud nor Harriett, nor indeed any of the denizens of JAG Ops were left very long in doubt as to the nature of Mac and Harm's lunch time meeting. The two returned to the office together, Mac with a bounce in her step that had been missing for weeks, and Harm looking as if he'd shed a heavy load somewhen between leaving and returning to the office.

Petty Officer Yeoman First Class Jason Tiner was one of the most relieved. In his position as the admiral's Yeoman, or gofer, as he frequently thought of himself, he had in the past often been compelled to pass on messages from his principal to his two senior attorneys, and life was so much simpler when the two of them weren't sniping at each other. Not that they'd ever taken their temper out on him, it was just that when they were ticked off at each other, they made sure the whole of JAG Ops not only knew about it, but felt it too! Jason Tiner could only pray that with the Commander's altered marital status, the tension between the two officers would just go away somewhere. Anywhere. Permanently. Forever. And how the hell had he missed the Page Two updates in the Commander's and Jen's… uh… Legalman One Rabb's SRBs… ? That cunning old admiral must have been in on it right from the start! Who'd have thought that the Old Man had such a sentimental streak in him!

**xxxxxx-xxxxxx-xxxxxx-xxxxxx-xxxxxx**

With normal - or as near normal as possible - relationships restored at JAG, the next three days shot past so quickly that Harm was taken by surprise when on Thursday evening Jen started to pack a go-bag and reminded him that he'd be driving the Corvette for the next seventy two hours.

His blank expression as he fought to remember something that was obviously important to her frustrated Jen. She cast him a darkling glance and said patiently, "Harm, we discussed this. I need the Lexus to take Loren and Sasha up to Belleville, tomorrow. Remember?"

He blinked at her. "Yes… I remember… but is it tomorrow already?"

Jen's expression changed to what could only be described as one of exasperation, and she said slowly and distinctly, "No. It is not tomorrow already. It cannot be tomorrow already when it is still today. Now can it?"

"Um…" Harm didn't really relish the feeling of having said something so totally dumb, but she had sort of taken him unawares. But then again, the lawyer in him argued, he had prior knowledge of her forthcoming expedition. And just because he wasn't too happy about it, didn't give him the right to forget about it. In the meantime the wife of his heart was standing, fists planted on hips and glaring… yes, she was definitely glaring… at him.

He swallowed once, hard, and then tried for a flyboy grin, which didn't quite come off, "I… uh… guess that sounded…. Uh… was a pretty dumb thing to say. But what I meant before my tongue tripped over my teeth was that I hadn't realised that the week had gone by so quickly, and that tomorrow was Friday and that of course you'd be packing tonight, and you will definitely need the Lexus for tomorrow, because if I got sent out of town then I wouldn't be…"

He noticed that Jen had her arms crossed across her breasts… such beautiful breasts, they were too… uh… enough of that… and she was tapping her foot on the floor. And that was never a good sign, "so I'll just shut up now, shall I, and stop rambling?"

"Smart move," Jen commented flatly. "Now. keys, please?" she held out an expectant hand.

"Ummm… yeah, of course," he said digging in his pocket and fishing out the keys to the SUV. Jen's face transformed on the instant as a beaming smile replaced the scowl, "Thank you, Harm," she said.

He looked at her suspiciously, "You just handled me, didn't you?" he demanded.

"Now, why would I do that?" she cooed, as she undulated across the six feet or so of bedroom carpet that separated them and then stood on tiptoes to kiss him, her tongue gently probing his lips.

Harm returned her kiss with enthusiasm and as they finally separated he kept his hands on her hips while Jen had her hands flat against the hollows of his shoulders, their foreheads were only just touching as he inclined his head towards her. Both were breathing heavily, but as Harm recovered his breath he asked in a puzzled voice, "Why would you do what, sweetheart?"

"Oh, wow, I don't know, "Jen twinkled back at him, happy to follow his playful lead, "whatever it was you accused me of before you distracted me…?"

"Oh, well, it can't have been important," Harm shrugged, "But I'll tell you what is important, Mrs Rabb, and that is that you are wearing way too many clothes for this time of the evening!"

"Well, why on earth didn't you say so before?" Jen demanded as her hands went to her shirt buttons.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

OK, that was different. All he'd done was ask the Commander , in a social sort of way, whether he'd made any plans for the weekend. He'd expected… oh, maybe an offhand remark about taking his bi-plane up, or maybe a humorous complaint about being dragged round shopping malls by his wife. Or… something like that, anyway. What Jason Tiner hadn't expected was a furious Commander Rabb rounding on him like Lieutenant Singer in full PMS mode and tearing his head off and then crapping down the hole!

As he staggered away from the Commander's office, he'd passed the Gunny and in shaking tones had muttered, "Don't speak to the Commander - about anything. I don't think he's had his morning coffee yet!"

Victor Galindez looked uncomprehendingly at Tiner, and then over his shoulder to see that Commander Rabb was glaring in their direction. With a muttered "Tell me later, Tiner", the Gunny made his way as innocently as he could to his desk where he busied himself doing pretty much nothing.

Harm watched Tiner's retreat with a guilty conscience, which only made him angrier, but with himself, rather than innocent victim of his bad temper. After all it wasn't Tiner's fault that he was being condemned to spend the entire weekend rattling around the huge house on his own, without even the comfort of knowing that Loren was in the ranch-house at the bottom of the yard. Well, there just might be something he could do about that… He stretched his hand out for the 'phone, and dialing a fast becoming familiar number he waited for the pick up at the other end.

"Hi, Air Ops, please…"

"_One moment, sir! Connecting you now_"

"Commander… uh… Commander Keeter, please…" Harm waited for the connection to be made and then as Keeter identified himself he fired his opening salvo, " Hey, Keeter, how ya doin' buddy…?"

"_Harm! What's wrong, my man?"_

"No, nothing's wrong. In fact couldn't be better. Listen, I've got a weekend liberty… "

"_A whut? Did you just say weekend liberty?"_ Keeter replied with a hint of longing in his voice.

"Yeah, Jen and Loren are taking Alexandra up to Belleville to meet her great Grams, so I figured we could get together and maybe hoist a few for old times' sake, get caught up on some news, catch a b-ball game or two, now that Jen's provided us with a TV…"

"_Sounds good, but…"_

Harm's heart sank, "But…?"

"_Uh, we… uh… I've already got plans made for this weekend, taking us… uh… me out of town until late Sunday. Geez, buddy I wish I could get out of it but, it's one of those damn' family things. Sorry, man."_

"Family things? Keeter, don't lie to me, you haven't got any family… oh…" as realisation broke, "But Beth has, right?"

"_Yeah, right,"_ Keeter replied despondently.

"Oh man, oh man," Harm grinned, even through his disappointment, "You are so whipped!"

"_I'm not,"_ Keeter whined in denial, _"it's just you know how she can get, all sort of…"_

"Sarcastic?" Harm contributed with a spurious air of being helpful.

"_Yeah. Sarcastic! So go on, Legal Weenie, laugh at somebody else's misery, why don't you!"_

"Jack, if I thought you were really miserable, I probably would laugh at you, and then come riding to your rescue. Y'all have a good weekend now, ya hear?"

"_Oh… go serve a writ on someone!"_

"Yeah, see you, Jack."

"_Yeah, call you next week, so you know where to find my body for the autopsy!" _

Harm put the phone back on the hook and smiled. It was true, although he was still going to be miserable through being on his own for the weekend, his knowledge of Keeter assured him that Jack was facing what he considered to be his own personal, private hell. The woman he was dating - or maybe not, it was sometimes difficult following the declared status of that relationship - was insisting that Keeter go down to Florida with her to meet her folks. That realisation did, actually, make him feel a little better. It was evidently true, that misery really did love company.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Beth looked up from the flight schedule she now had to re-arrange at short notice. No less than three pilots who were due to fly today had called in sick. She knew that some sort of 'flu bug was decimating the male BOQs but somehow or other, Air Ops had been lucky, until today. Now she was desperately scratching around trying to find replacement aircrew. Under normal circumstances it wouldn't have been a problem except that the damn' Zoomies had been hit by the same bug earlier in the week and as a result of their shortage of aircrew, Navy Air Ops had been tasked to provide the DC CAPs, stretching the available manpower, both aircrew and groundcrew - and thank God _they_ weren't her problem - to the limits. As it was trying to find replacement pilots _was_ stretching her to the limits!

Even so, she could see the pre-occupation and the strained expression on Jack's face. She had a shrewd idea that most of it was occasioned by the thought that this evening they would both be in an F-14 heading for Pensacola, and a meeting with her parents. Jack hadn't been keen on the idea to start with, and as the day had drawn nearer he had become increasingly monosyllabic as she'd tried to discuss the weekend with him. She could only hope that being back in the air would improve his disposition before her dad, and especially her mom, got the impression that she was dating an imbecile or a bad-tempered bear. She sighed silently, time for another pep-talk.

"Anything important, sir?" she asked keeping her tone light but appropriately official in the office.

"H'mm?" Keeter looked up, and it seemed to take him a moment to focus, "Oh, no… That was Commander Rabb. Sounds like he's feeling a bit lonely…"

Beth's personal radar went in to high definition scanning mode. "Why should Har… Commander Rabb be feeling lonely, sir?" Keeter _was not_ getting out of this weekend just because Harm was feeling lonely…

"Oh, it seems that Jen and Loren are taking the baby up to Belleville to meet Ha… the Commander's Grams. The baby's her first great-grandchild, see. And Harm is going to be left alone for the weekend." Keeter chuckled, "Can you imagine him rattling around that great big house all on his own?"

"Oh, I don't reckon he'll do that, Jack… uh… si… Sorry, sir. He's still got that Stearman, so he'll probably spend the… weekend… flying…" Beth's delivery slowed as the germ of an idea popped into her head.

Jack looked down at her as she suddenly grinned mischievously, "What's going in that devious little brain of yours, Commander?"

"Walk with me, sir?" she invited him, "I could do with a coffee."

"You could always do with a coffee!" Keeter grinned, as he walked to the Ops Room door. "Chief!"

"Yessir!"

"Chief, if anybody needs us or the excreta impacts the air conditioning, the Lieutenant Commander and I will be in the galley for the next ten - fifteen minutes. Take over."

"Aye, aye, Sir!" Chief Brennan watched the two officers leave, and smiled. When were they going to come clean? It was very, very difficult for them of course, they weren't the same rank and they were in the same chain of command, and although that in itself wasn't a problem, it did have the potential to end both of their careers if their personal lives spilled over into their professional lives.

"OK, Beth," Jack started as he stirred creamer into his coffee, "What's bugging you?"

Beth ladled yet another spoonful of sugar into her coffee, ignoring Jack's shudder at the sight, "Well, you know that _Mustang, Shrek_ and _Caruso _have all gone down with this bug that's going round?" Jack's nod signified his assent. "Well, I had a thought; if Harm's at a loose end this weekend, if we swap out _Lobo_ and _Shrek's_ missions, we could send _Lobo_ down to Pensacola with us, instead of to Miramar, and put Hammer in _Shrek's_ ride with _Fiddler_… It would help us out, and keep Harm from moping on his own all weekend."

"Yeah, but why swap out_ Lobo_, why not just keep the board as is, and just substitute _Hammer_ for _Shrek_?"

Beth looked at him in exasperation, "Jack, where do Harm's parents live?"

Jack grinned as enlightenment dawned, "Of course… La Jolla!" He looked over the rim of his coffee-mug, "Ya know, you really are the smart one out of the two of us!"

"Well… I knew that!" she quipped in reply as her eyes again crinkled in a grin.

"Yeah, maybe so, but it's still your turn to rinse the cups!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm closed the file out of which he'd been trying to make some sort of sense and glared at the phone. If it didn't stop ringing, he supposed he'd have to answer it. It didn't stop.

"Rabb."

"_Sir, it's Tiner. The Admiral would like to see you in his office, ASAP, sir."_

Harm forced his voice to sound as it normally would, "Thanks, Tiner. I'll be there directly." He winced. He'd obviously been much rougher on Tiner than he'd thought. Even after a regular chewing out, Tiner would usually have crossed the bull pen to deliver such a summons in person. That he'd chosen to use the phone was a measure of his reluctance to come face to face with Commander Rabb. His supposition was borne out by the sight of Tiner's vacant desk. The Yeoman had obviously found some pretext of being away from his post at a time when Harm could be expected to pass it. Drawing a breath, and wondering how he could make a suitable apology to the Yeoman, Harm rapped sharply on the Admiral's door jamb.

Ten minutes later he emerged from the admiral's office, if not with a smile on his face, at least in a much better mood than when he had entered it. He'd received orders. Secure his office, collect his flight gear and report to Andrews Joint Air Facility, Air Operations for a briefing. OK, it wasn't as good as being at home with Jen, but at least he wouldn't be left alone wandering all the way through the rooms in that ridiculously sized house. Except, of course, that the house was not a ridiculous size. In a few months they were going to need every square foot of space. With Sasha as a guide, he had already seen how much clutter… uh… necessary equipment a baby needed even when they were supposed to be travelling light. He had a sneaky feeling that the amount of… stuff needed would increase exponentially once a baby was settled in to permanent quarters! In the meantime…

"_Pentagon, main switchboard."_

"Extension 5234, please.

"_On moment, please, caller_."

"_Secretary of the Navy's office, Legalman One Rabb speaking, sir."_

"Hey, Rabb, this is Rabb." He waited for her response.

"_Good morning, Commander. How may I help you?"_ The cool formality of her response told him that she wasn't alone, and the temptation was just too much for him.

"Has anybody ever told you that you've got the most beautiful butt in the whole of the US Navy? Hell, in the whole of the US?"

Jen couldn't help herself. She blushed fire-engine red; not so much at the words Harm had used, but the low, husky voice in which he spoken them. She cast an agitated glance up at the newly promoted Commander Manetti, who raise an elegant eyebrow and mouthed "Husband?"

Jen nodded helplessly, but the plea in her eyes was eloquent. Tracey Manetti smiled and whispered, "Later," as she silently opened the door between her own and Jen's office and returned quietly giggling to herself to the sanctuary of her own desk.

Relieved of her audience, Jen hissed into the phone, "_I am sooo going to get you for that_!"

"What?" Harm asked, all offended innocence, "Can't a guy pay his wife a compliment these days?"

"_Well… yes, he can… but not on the navy's dime, not on the Navy's time and not when it's such a personal compliment and especially not when her CO is in the room!_"

"Ah… Tracey was there was she?"

"_Yes_, Jen replied in arctic accents, "_Commander Manetti was in the office_."

"OK, I'm sorry… well… I'm not really… I love you, and I can't help telling you, in so many different ways."

"_Ohhh…"_ What was it about this man that made her turn into such a puddle of… sap? Jen despairingly asked herself. But bringing herself back under control she asked, "_Well, apart from wanting to embarrass me before the whole of the Pentagon, why are you calling?"_

"Uh… just to let you know that I've received orders, and that I'm leaving the office now, so I won't be home when you secure to go and get Loren."

"_Are… are you going to be gone long?" _Jen already had mixed feelings about not being with Harm this weekend, and although she had planned for her and Loren to make the trip without him, she already knew she was going to miss him. This would be the first time they'd been apart since she'd fallen into his arms the night Loren Singer had left for San Diego.

"No, sweetheart. It seems they're short of pilots at Andrews and I'm ferrying a Tomcat out to Miramar this afternoon, and catching a transport back on Sunday pm. I'll take the Escort up to Andrews. I'd rather not leave the 'vette out in the open over the weekend. If that's OK?"

"_H'mm, yeah, sure, go ahead. Miramar? Are you going home?"_

"Of course. I still haven't heard the last about the last trip I took to Miramar and didn't let mom know I was in the state, let alone twenty minutes away!"

"_Uh-huh. Who's flying with you, Beth?"_

"No… I don't know who my back-seater is, and here's the funniest part of the whole set up. Andrews has been hit by some sort of 'flu bug, that's why they called the Admiral asking for me. Apparently, they're scouring the DC area for all pilots who are still flight qualified. And as part of the call-up, they've battened onto Keeter and Beth, and they're flying down to Pensacola. And Beth, being Beth has taken advantage of that and is having her parents come and meet Jack."

Jen took a few seconds to work out the implications of what Harm had just told her, and then burst out in a giggle. _"Oh, God, I'll bet Keeter's crapping himself with joy!"_

"Legalman One! That's no way to talk about a superior officer!" Harm teased her.

"_Oh, I know that, Commander! But in this case it was Jen talking about a friend_!"

"Oh, in that case, Jen, you are excused. Now. Before I go, can you patch me through to Commander Manetti?"

"_Sure. Harm, fly safe, and good luck. I love you_."

"I love you too…"

"_Why, I declare, that's very sweet of you Commander… but do you think a married man ought to be a-saying things like that to a single gal like me_?" Tracey Manetti's light Virginia drawl was full of teasing good humour, as Jen transferred Harm's call without waiting for his reply.

Harm was momentarily thunderstruck, until he realised what Jen had done, "Oh, Tracy! I'm sorry, those words were meant for other ears. I think I've just been set up!"

"_Well, I'd say that was a certainty Commander. But I'm equally sure you deserved it, and you know what they say about pay-back?"_

"I probably did. And I do! But that's not why I called. Tracy, I've just seen the board results. Many congratulations on your second half-ring. Well done, and thoroughly deserved!"

"_Why, I thank you, Commander! It pleases me to know that I'm not totally forgotten at JAG!"_

"How could we ever forget you at JAG? I, for one, have so many pleasant memories of our investigations together…"

"_Oh! Commander! And here I was thinking you were such a fine California gentleman!" _Tracy mocked him gently.

"Oh, I was Commander… but you'll never know just how much of a struggle that was!"

"_Goodbye, Commander,"_ a blushing Commander Manetti said.

"Goodbye, Tracy… and once again, congratulations…"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm had accepted over three years ago that his operational flying days were over, but the events of 9/11 with the necessity of standing CAPs over the DC area had ensured that his hours were kept up and his flight status maintained, even though he had to give up a week's leave every six months to do his carrier landing quals. That however was a price he was all too happy to pay. Until now. Now he was married, and with a baby on the way, it was maybe time he gave thought to giving up his flight status.

But all such thoughts fled as, already clad in flying suit and carrying his helmet and survival vest, he made his way nervous anticipation tingling in his blood into the briefing room at Andrews JAF. Apart from jack Keeter sprawled in a chair at the front of the room, the only other occupant was an attractive, slender woman with honey-blonde hair, who eyed him somewhat doubtfully as he nodded to her.

Jack twisted his head around as he heard Harm enter the room, and then stood up, "Harm, ol' buddy, come on in. Lieutenant Maartens, this is Commander Rabb, he's your driver for the weekend. _Hammer_, this is your RIO, Lieutenant Beth Maartens. _Hammer_ meet _Fiddler_!

Harm's eyebrow rose slightly as he offered the Lieutenant his hand, "_Fiddler_ hey? Glad to meet you. Even if you have already made a liar out of me!"

"Sir?" _Fiddler's_ voice was as cool and as unenthusiastic as her handshake.

"Yeah," Harm grinned, although puzzled by the coolness of her reception. "I just got off the 'phone telling my wife where I was going for the weekend, and that Beth wasn't my RIO."

"Hey, well, I could change driver's seats with you, if it would help keep you honest?" Keeter interposed hopefully.

"Jack, if you think that I'm going to be involved in any of your schemes to disrupt whatever _Skates_ has got planned, then you've got another think coming!" Harm exclaimed, his face paling at the thought of the petite RIO's reaction if he did change tasks with Keeter.

"Oh well…" Keeter sighed dramatically, "it was worth a try…"

Harm gave him what could only be described as an 'old fashioned look' and said, "No, Keeter, no it wasn't."

Keeter scowled, not directly at Harm, but at the world in general. "OK, it's a straightforward ferry. From Andrews to Miramar. Flight cleared for Angels two-six non-stop to Miramar, refuel in flight with a Viking out of Fort Worth, over the Texas-Oklahoma state line. The tanker's call-sign is Mojo three-four, you are Transit one-eight. Your ride is a _Wolverine_ Squadron bird, number three two zero. Wheels up at 1500 hours. _Fiddler_, get the latest met before you go. _Hammer_, you might want to check the ride. Any questions? No? Good. See you on the flight-line."

Harm and Lieutenant Maartens stood as Keeter left the room, and she turned to pick up her gear. "One moment, Lieutenant," Harm stopped her. "Do you have a problem with me? I'm sensing a little hostility, here."

Beth Maartens turned to face Harm, "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Harm folded his arms, "Go ahead, Lieutenant, permission granted."

"_X-Man_ was my first driver and a damn' good friend as well as being a damn' good pilot. I heard what you did to him," and although she tried to maintain a neutral tone of voice, there was just a tinge of anger to be heard.

Harm groaned silently. He hated what he'd had to do to _X-Man_, but the other pilot's arrogance, attitude and free-wheeling approach to combat flying had made him a menace in the air. "Lieutenant, I have no intention of discussing that, or any other case, with you or anybody else. But I have seen at first-hand what keeping an unqualified, reckless or unfit pilot in the air can do. The next time you have a chance, ask Lieutenant Commander Hawkes about Lieutenant Marilyn Isaacs! In the meantime, I suggest you do as Commander Keeter said, and check the weather. See you on the flight line."

"Yessir!" she snapped expressionlessly.

Harm shook his head as he watched her leave the room. Well, this is going to be fun! he thought.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxx-xxxxx**

Harm made his way out to the flight line looking for his ride, where he was met by a Petty Officer Aviation Structural Mechanic Class One, "Good afternoon, sir!" he called out over the noise of an engine test.

"Good afternoon! I'm looking for my ride, three two zero?"

"Yessir! Walk with me! I'm AM One, Heywood, sir. Crew Chief for your ride - among others!"

"Keep you pretty busy, huh?"

"Yessir! Makes the day go faster!"

Harm grinned at the younger man's enthusiasm, although he knew that an officer, particularly a strange one, had to take care that he wasn't just being told what he wanted to hear. "What's the story on this bird?" he shouted.

"Squadron came through en route to Miramar last week sir. The pilot complained of inconsistent panel readings, so we had her stripped down, re-checked, re-calibrated. She's fine now sir, I'd stake my life on it!"

"It's not your life that's going to be up there with her, Chief!" Harm replied as he started his walk-round

"No sir!" Heywood grinned, unabashed.

Beth Maartens emerged from the weather room and almost at once spotted the tall figure of her pilot as he checked over the aircraft. She turned to Beth Hawkes who had also just gotten her weather updates for her flight down to Florida. "Ma'am, what's the story with Commander Rabb?"

_Skates_ stopped in surprise, "Lieutenant, Commander Rabb is one of, if not, the finest sticks I know. He's a two times DFC winner. Did you ever hear of 'The Tailhook' - not the harassment scandal, back in the day, but the one over Bosnia, when a pilot used his wingman's tailhook to push him to safety?"

"You mean…?" Maartens looked back at Harm, "He's…"

"Yeah. He's the crazy son of a bitch who did the pushing. That's what he got his second DFC for."

"I've heard the story, ma'am, but I figured it was talked up…"

"Nope, _Fiddler_. It's God's honest truth! I know…" _Skates_ waited to make the maximum impact, "I was there!"

Maartens looked at her superior with some surprise and a dawning new respect, "You were there? You were…?"

"Yeah, I was his RIO!" _Skates_ gathered her weather notes together and then pulling her helmet on she started to walk towards Keeter and their ride for Florida. She hadn't taken more than a couple of steps before she turned back to Maartens, "What's with the questions, Beth?"

Maartens blushed slightly, "My first stick was Andy Buxton - _X-Man_…"

"Oh, yeah, I remember him…" _Skates_ voice went flat.

"Ma'am?" Maartens asked and waited for a reply, but when _Skates _stayed silent, she continued, "I tried to talk to the Commander about him. But all he said was that Buxton was a danger in the air, and that I should ask you about Marilyn Isaacs, ma'am?"

Beth Hawkes' head came up and she paled in remembrance of that night. "Lieutenant Isaacs was a poor pilot, who had been taken off flight status, but was put back up for a check ride when a Congresswoman got on her case. Isaacs had a ramp strike at the end of that ride and killed herself. She also nearly killed her RIO. I knew Buxton too, we were in the same squadron. He was a brilliant stick, just not as good as he thought he was. He was arrogant and undisciplined and he took chances. He was an accident waiting to happen. He screwed the pooch on one mission and killed some Russian peacekeepers by not obeying the ROEs. Hammer got him acquitted at his court-martial, but recommended a FNAEB. For what it's worth Beth, I don't know what he was like when he first started flying, but the way he was on the Patrick Henry… I would not have wanted to fly with him!" _Skates_ gave the junior officer a level look and a chance to respond but when the younger officer stayed silent, just looking thoughtfully at her, _Skates_ shrugged her shoulders and turned to walk to her aircraft, breaking into double time as Keeter pumped his fist in the air.

Beth Maartens watched _Skates_ go and then turned back toward her own ride, where her pilot having completed the walk round had signed for the aircraft and stood waiting for her, his thumbs hooked into the arm-holes of his survival vest. Beth swore silently to herself and cramming her helmet onto her head she too double-timed to her place.

Harm waited until Beth Maartens was strapped in before climbing up into the front seat, and with Heywood's assistance secured himself to his own seat. The canopy closed over them, and as was his habit, he lightly kissed the fingertips of his right glove and raised them to touch the plexiglass above his head.

Routine asserted itself and he and Maartens efficiently ran through the pre-flight check. Harm switched his radio mic to 'Broadcast' and called in. "Flapjack Control this is Transit one-eight, requesting clearance to taxi to runway three-six-zero for take-off…"

"Roger, Transit one-eight, you are clear to taxi."

At the runway threshold, Harm looked into his mirror to see his RIO's face. Checking to make sure he was on intercom, he asked, "Are you with me._ Fiddler_?"

Beth Maartens grinned in reply; it didn't matter now what she might think of her driver, from now until they went wheels down at Miramar they were, they had to be, a team. "I'm with you, sir," she responded, "To hell and back!"


	31. Unfriendly Skies,

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 31  
>Unfriendly Skies<strong>

Jen had not been able to secure early today, the SecNav had been delayed by a Joint Chiefs' briefing which had overrun its time slot, and both she and Commander Manetti had been kept kicking their heels for the best part of an hour before the SecNav returned to his office in a foul mood and then he stopped only long enough to collect his overcoat and briefcase, and with a surly, "See you two on Monday," disappeared for the weekend.

"Well, ma'am…" Jen began.

"Before you start to criticize our not-quite-so-noble leader, Legalman One, may I remind you that, for my sins, he _is _my Godfather?" Tracy Manetti said, with a twinkle in her eye as she gathered her own coat and cover.

Jen had lost no time in adjusting to Commander Manetti's whimsical sense of humour, and thanks to that officer's praise of Harm, she had completely won Jen over in the first couple of days she had been at the Pentagon.

Tracy in her turn had discovered that Jen had an impish sense of humour, a little broader than her own, but one that meant the two women shared the same sense of amusement and laughed at similar things. And Jen's obvious love for Harm did her no disservice in the other woman's eyes. She had only worked with Harmon Rabb for a short time, but she was by no means immune to his charms.

"Come on Legalman, I'll walk out with you," the officer offered.

"Yes, ma'am!" Jen accepted the offer, quickly locking her desk drawers and collecting her cover from the coat rack just inside the office door.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Commander Pearson, ma'am?"

"Yes, AC Two?"

"Ma'am, Tower is on the line, they have received a Met notice - a Severe Weather Warning. There's a storm cell, incoming from the North West. ETA our AO in two hours, that is nineteen thirty hours. All inbound flights with an ETA after that are being diverted to alternatives, and we are advised that no flight clearances, except CAPs will be issued after nineteen hundred hours until the storm cell moves south and clears our AO. Ceiling at two thousand feet and visibility down to less than a mile with winds up to 80 miles per hour with heavy rain, expected ma'am!"

Amanda Pearson moved over to the flight boards looking first for inbound aircraft and then at the scheduled outbound flights. The latter board was clear, with the exception of the twenty-hundred hours CAP - four F/A-18As flown by USMC pilots, the Jarheads, she mused, would just have to punch up through the ceiling and hope by the time their patrol was ended the weather system would have cleared the area, otherwise they would have to be diverted north, with subsequent issues of recovery and filling the holes in the flight schedules.

But the inbound board was a different story. Two USMC C-130's on their way north from Parris Island, and what was… "AC Two Holmes!"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"What's this? 4 by SH2s ex Invincible?"

"Royal Navy, ma'am, Sea Harrier Twos, from the Brit _HMS Invincible_."

"Damn! What's their range and speed?"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen leaned forward in the driver's seat looking up anxiously at the sky which was beginning to cloud over in a threateningly unpleasant manner. She, Loren and Alexandra were nearly an hour and a half later in getting on the road than they had planned. On top of being late getting away from work, a situation made worse by the end of week traffic congestion on the roads around the Pentagon, when she had finally gotten back to Annandale Road, she found Loren all ready to go, and fretting with impatience, but they had just loaded their bags and all the baby's equipment into the SUV when Alexandra began to fuss and a certain pungent aroma told them that she was now in need of a diaper change.

Now, the weather which had been pleasant enough for an early summer's day had suddenly undergone a change for the worse. An extreme change. It didn't need the sight of the thick black clouds scudding overhead to tell Jen that wind was rising; she could feel the SUV swaying under the impact of what felt like some pretty severe gusts. In fact, Jen was uneasily becoming aware that she was beginning to have to fight to keep control of the suddenly unwieldy vehicle. Then the rain started to come down. In sheets.

Jen bit her lip and turned the wipers on. Even at full pelt they were barely managing to keep the windscreen clear, and without noticing her actions, her foot eased off the gas pedal until their speed was no more than twenty five miles per hour, and Jen realised that somehow she was sitting well forward in her seat in effort to peer through the wet haze that enveloped the vehicle and reduced visibility to no more than a few yards.

Jen's knuckles were white on the steering wheel and her eyes burned with the effort of staring through the murk hoping to see any possible hazards before the SUV ran into them

A particularly violent gust of wind slammed into the side of the vehicle and it slewed violently across the road, Jen's gasp of fright as well the lurching of the vehicle as she fought to bring it back under control woke Loren from the doze she had fallen into just past Hagerstown.

"Jen! What's wrong?" she gasped as the vehicle seemed to stagger under the impact of another blast.

"It's OK, Loren," Jen fought to keep the fear out of her voice as she battled the steering wheel's attempts to tear itself out of her grasp, "It's just a bit windy!"

Loren looked across the width of the vehicle; it was dark, too dark for so early in the evening at this time of year and Jen was sitting so far forward in her seat that she was almost sitting on the steering wheel and her nose was almost pressed against the windscreen. Loren felt the first stirrings of real concern, and shot an anxious glance back over her shoulder. Thankfully, Alexandra had, as usual when in a car, fallen asleep within minutes of the journey starting. The last thing Jen, or she needed, was the distraction of a fretting or crying baby.

"Jen, where are we?"

"I'm not really sure," Jen replied, as she quickly looked down at the odometer, "but we're north of Hagerstown, so we're more than half-way there, we're somewhere on the US-522, North, I hope… but where exactly, I don't know!"

Loren nodded her understanding and opened the glove-box in front of her seat, rummaging for the road map and flashlight that she knew was there. Her searching hand, however, first discovered a box about ten inches by eight inches by four inches. "What's this, Jen?" she asked

"What's what?" Jen kept her frantic eyes fixed on what she could see of the road ahead.

"This box!" Loren cried.

"Oh, personal weapon!" Jen said in matter of fact tones.

"You're kidding? Right!"

"No… I usually carry it when I'm driving out of town on my own!"

Loren looked at her friend with startled eyes, "Unbelievable!" Just when she thought she was getting to know someone, they turned around and surprised you with something like this. Loren shook her head and continued looking for the map and flashlight. Finally finding both, she switched the flashlight on and searched the map, "The US-522, north of Hagerstown. Right?"

"Uh-huh." Jen was finding it harder and hard to control the swaying of the wind-battered Lexus as it again lurched across the carriage-way.

"Jen!"

"OK Loren, OK, I've got, I've got. It's OK Loren!" Keep telling yourself that, girl, and you might end up believing it, she told herself. Jen was now desperately looking for somewhere where she could safely pull over into some sort of shelter. She was beginning to think that she wouldn't be able to control the car for much longer in these conditions.

Loren now had the flashlight focused on the section of the road she had been looking for, "Have we passed through Shade Gap?"

"No, I don't think so…" but before either of them could say another word they both screamed in fright as there was the loud crash of an impact against the side of the vehicle and Jen had to fight with all her strength to prevent the SUV from broadsiding down the road.

The crash and their screams had woken Alexandra, and her cries added to the strain that Jen was feeling. Making her mind up, she took her foot off the gas pedal and gently applied the brakes, steering the vehicle off the road and onto the verge.

"What are you doing?" Loren demanded as Jen unfastened her seat belt.

"I'm trying to see what we hit… it might have been a person, or an animal!"

Jen was nearly knocked to the ground by the force of the wind, but by dint of holding on the Lexus' superstructure she fought her away around to the right hand side of the car and by the help of the flashlight to see that the door pillar between front and rear passengers had been buckled and the paintwork scraped away. Whatever they'd hit, or had hit them, it wasn't a person or an animal, but was probably a piece of debris that had been hurled through the air. Breathing a sigh of relief she battled her way back to the driver's door and climbed into the SUV, which although still rocking in the gusting wind, was comparatively a haven of tranquility.

Wiping the rain off her face as best she could, she was thankful when Loren handed her a towel she had retrieved from the depths of Alexandra's diaper bag, and on mopping her face dry she could now see that Loren had moved Alexandra out of her child seat, and was nursing her, although Alexandra seemed to be taking comfort from contact with her mother rather than suckling.

Jen turned on the hazard flashers, just in case there was anyone else crazy enough to be on the road in this weather before she turned to Loren, "It's really, really bad out there. I was nearly blown off my feet a couple of times. The thing is, I've only travelled this road once before, and that was in daylight, so I don't know the route, I don't really know where we are, and I don't know what's up ahead. I do know that there are stretches of the road that cut through woodland, and I don't really want to have a tree come crashing down us…"

Loren nodded her understanding, "So what do you want?"

Jen wasn't quite sure, "Umm.. somewhere I can park out of the wind, and where we'll be safe from any more flying crap, and where nothing can come barreling up behind us. I dunno, maybe a barn, or church with a parking lot, where we can park next to the building, or… well, something like that, anyway. Umm… I don't want to sound like a scaredy-cat, but I really don't want to drive very much further until this wind drops… And I don't want to pull over into a truck stop or some greasy spoon diner, not when there's just the two of us…"

Again Loren nodded, this time in agreement, "Yeah, that would be asking for trouble, especially on a night like this. OK, let's find a sheltered off-road spot to park. Summer storms this bad don't usually last long… well, they do… but they move too quickly to last long in any one spot!"

Thankful for her friend's support, Jen waited for Loren to secure Alexandra back in her car seat before she turned the key in the ignition and again straining to see through the wind-driven rain and murk she engaged dive and slowly crawled along the verge. Hoping to find somewhere safe to pull off the road.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Transit one-eight flew almost due West at a comfortable six hundred knots through a cloudless sky, Harm exulting in the feeling of flying a fast jet again and Beth conscientiously scanning the surrounding skies through her radar display, taking the opportunity to practice her skills by tracking any other aircraft sharing their patch of sky and keeping Harm informed of any possible occurrence that might affect their flight.

"_Hammer_?"

"Yeah?"

"Four bogies bearing zero four niner, inbound, range eight three, closing at two hundred. They're squawking F-15s!"

"OK, _Fiddler_, just some Zoomies out to see what a real flier looks like!"

Beth Maarten's laugh sounded good in Harm's ears and he looked in his mirror to see her face creased in honest amusement. He wasn't sure what had happened just before take-off, but she suddenly seemed to have mellowed towards him!

It wasn't too long before the four Eagles neared the lone Tomcat, the number one in their formation flying parallel to Harm's jet. There was a warning crackle in Harm's earphones and then the voice of the Air Force Pilot, "_Hiya Navy, you're a long way from salt water, are you lost_?"

"Nope," Harm grinned, "just headed this way to see what might possibly be the attraction that keeps you guys so firmly based over the land. Ain't seen nothing yet to make it worthwhile!"

"_Y'all just ain't lookin' at 'purple mountain majesties: Above the fruited plain'_" another of the Air Force pilots chimed in, singing his line.

"Nope, it's all just dirt down there!" Harm laughed, and truthfully the scorched, rocky terrain below did not look very inviting.

"_Yeah, well catch me trying land one of those flying bricks on a postage stamp in the middle of the damned ocean!"_

"Yeah, I know, it takes a real pilot to be able to do that!" Harm shot back triumphantly, "That's why we get the gold wings, and you guys get the silver!"

"_Damn it Montana! You just had to give him the feed for that didn't you_!" the Air Force flight leader complained, "_OK, Navy, you got off with that, fly right_!"

"Yeah, see you 'round the flight line sometime. Clear skies!"

"_Yeah, see you around. All Blue aircraft turn on to heading two niner five... now!_" The four F-15s peeled off to the north, clearing Harm's flight line, the flight leader waggling his wings in farewell. Harm chuckled as he watched them go, and switching back to intercom he said to _Fiddler_, "There's always one, who can't keep his mouth shut!" And looked again in the mirror to see her grinning back at him

Despite his good humour, Harm was keeping an anxious eye on his gauges. According to his mental arithmetic, he should be coming up on the Viking very shortly.

"Hey, _Fiddler_, any sign of a Viking anywhere?"

"Not yet."

"OK… keep a-lookin'"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Harm flew on straight and level for another ten minutes, his eyes now almost permanently fixed on his gauges. He wasn't worried yet, but he was becoming just a little concerned. "_Fiddler_?"

"No joy, sir!" _Fiddler's _voice was still relaxed and Harm knew that she would also be monitoring their fuel consumption, and she would, if she knew her job, remind him of it as and when required. She did know her job, and it was only about three minutes later that she spoke, "_Hammer_! Bogie squawking Sierra-3 Bravo bearing two seven five, range one one zero, closing rate four fifty!" The relief in Beth Maarten's voice was unmistakable.

Harm grinned and opened his mic, "Anyone seen a flying gas station 'round here?"

"_I do believe that would be us…_" the answer was a distinctly female West Texas drawl that sparked a long-buried memory in Harm's mind, and his grin became even wider, But business needed to come first, "This is Transit one eight, are we your only customers, today?"

"_Hello to you, one-eight, this is Mojo three-four. Negative on that, you are number three on our list this fine afternoon…"_

"Roger three-four, we have you on screen…" he paused to let Beth Maartens fill in the details

"We have you at bearing two seven three, range niner four, closing rate four fifty."

"_OK, one-eight, we are altering course to zero niner zero. We will be with you soon_…"

"Roger three-four, we are at Angels two-six, on heading two six five"

"_OK, one-eight, climbing to Angels two-seven_"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Three-four, this is one-eight, we have full fuel, much obliged to you, am disengaging now…"

"_Roger one-eight, happy to have been of service. Fly right_!"

Even as Harm reduced power to break the contact, he could see the re-fuelling hose being reeled back in to the Viking, so once clear of the trailing drogue, he was able to increase power to get back up to optimal cruising speed, and passing the Viking was able to give a casual salute to the tanker's pilot as he breathed a sigh of relief. No matter how often it was done, Harm never reckoned that in-flight refueling was a routine manoeuvre, to his mind it was one of the trickiest undertakings asked of a pilot, second perhaps only to carrier deck landings. But now it was completed, he flicked his mic back to intercom, "OK _Fiddler_, that's the work done, let's just sit back now and enjoy the ride!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" The emphatic agreement from his back-seater caused Harm to once again check on her in his mirror and he was almost certain that she was showing as much relief on her face as he felt.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm eased the throttle right back and the muted growl of the F-14's engines died away to a purr as the ground crew aircraft handler indicated that he reached his designated spot, and then as he was given the cut-out signal he killed the engines and popped the canopy. He and Beth Maartens climbed out of the cockpit, both stretching after being confined in the cramped conditions or over four hours, as with the ease of familiarity he led the way to the flight line office, now newly decorated with the _Wolverines_' badge rather than the _Howler_ motif of his last few visits here. Entering the office row he looked for the door marked 'XO', knocked and waited to be bidden 'enter'.

He didn't know the young-ish Lieutenant Commander behind the desk, who looked up and then stood as Harm entered the office with Beth Maartens at his heels. Beth dug into her documents case and presented the aircraft's records to the XO, who after scanning them, nodded and signed the handover/takeover slip which Harm very carefully placed in the breast pocket of his flight suit. Nodding his thanks for the safe delivery of his delinquent jet, the Squadron XO walked Harm and Beth to the domestic entrance of the Squadron complex before bidding them farewell.

Beth groaned as she again stretched her back, and although tall for a woman, maybe five-nine or so, she was still seven or so inches shorter than Harm. Grinning at him, she patted her hair to try and keep it some sort of order after its being confined under her helmet for so long, and asked him, "How do you do it, sir?"

"Do what,_ Fiddler_?"

"Well, I'm as cramped as all get out, so how do you cope with being jammed into an F-14 for hours at a time?"

Harm grinned ruefully, "Just used to it, I guess."

"H'mmm… OK, sir. Sir, what about Sunday, do you have an itinerary?"

"Uh… yeah, hold on…" Harm fumbled in the pocket of his flight suit, "Yeah we report to Air Transport at ten hundred hours. And we're booked on an AMC C-17 for Andrews… Seems simple enough." He paused and looked at the younger officer, "Beth?"

The use of her first name surprised her and she spun to look him in the eye, "Sir?"

"What are your plans for the weekend? I mean do you know anybody out here?"

"Uh… I don't think so… I was just going to rack out at the VOQ and grab a cold one or two at the O Club."

Harm nodded as he considered. He didn't like being at odds with the people with whom he flew, and although Lieutenant Maartens seemed to have abated her previous hostility, he was still getting a sense of … restraint or maybe discomfort in the younger officer's attitude…

"Uh… sir?"

Harm raised an encouraging eyebrow as _Fiddler_'s cheeks seemed to have grown slightly pink.

"Look, sir, I'm sorry I was a bit… but if you don't think it over-familiar… maybe you'd like to join me for a beer in the O Club, later?"

Harm looked at her. "No… I don't think I will, Beth." He saw a look of what? Disappointment mixed with relief on her face, and all at once he made his mind up, "I've got a better idea. I'm visiting with my folks in La Jolla, and I'm dead certain that their place is more comfortable than VOQs, so why don't you join us? There's a sun deck and a pool, and it's liberty hall for guests…"

"Oh… No sir, I couldn't… I mean, they're not expecting me… I don't want to be a nuisance, especially when I was…"

Harm grinned, "Beth, they're not expecting me either, and it wouldn't be the first time I've brought my RIO home with me. In fact, thinking about that, you'll be doing me a favour."

"How so, sir?"

"Well, mom'll be so fussed making sure that you're comfortable that she'll forget to rake me down for not telling her we were coming!"

Beth Maartens considered; OK he was married - she'd seen the gold band on his finger, and she had no intention of getting involved with a married man, ever again! But… he'd said it was his parents' house, and no matter how reckless an aviator he might be, she didn't think he'd be dumb enough to try anything hinky in his home… Besides, he'd said there was a pool, and although she would not welcome any advances, there could be no harm in just looking, and he looked as if he might look very good in swim shorts. Still… So it wasn't without mixed feelings, and wondering if she was being altogether smart, she found herself smiling and heard herself saying, "Well… In that case, sir, thank you, yes, I accept. It will be better than VOQs and spending half the evening fending off half-drunk Jarheads!"

Harm nodded, "Good, well, let's get going!" He fished out his cell phone and pressed a speed-dial number, "Hi, Base Cabs? This is Commander Rabb, I'm at…" he looked for the street signs, "McCampbell and Fourteenth, we need a cab to take us out to La Jolla. Yes, ASAP, please. Ten minutes? OK, thanks!" And turning to Beth he grinned, "Because my family is out here, I've been here so many times that I keep the base cab company on speed dial, and I'm pretty sure some of the drivers know me by sight!"

The drive out to the Burnett house in La Jolla took about twenty minutes from the time they'd been picked up, and having grabbed their go-bags from the trunk of the cab, which Harm had directed into the alley alongside the property, he reached over the top of the wooden gate an lifted the latch. Leading Beth up a short flight of steps they emerged onto the sun-deck, which as he'd promised overlooked the swimming pool.

Trish and Frank were relaxing on a pair of recliners, each with a pre-dinner glass and a pitcher of Sangria on the table between them. Hearing the gate opening and then the footfalls on the steps Frank had sat up and removed his sunglasses. Recognising the tall frame of his step-son, he raised a hand in silent greeting, and said, "Trish, we've got trouble - and it looks like it's brought company."

Trish woke from her comfortable half-doze and shading her eyes with her hand she squinted in the direction Frank had indicated and then almost leapt out of her seat, squealing "Harmon!" before she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely and then kissed him gently on the cheek. She then turned towards Beth, but as she had expected Harm's companion to be Jen, she stood in confusion for a second or two, before turning back to Harm, with a troubled look in her eyes.

Harm saw Trish's expression and before she could leap to any erroneous, and highly unflattering conclusions he made haste to introduce his companion, "Mom, Frank this is Beth Maartens, she flew back seat for me today. She doesn't know anybody in the area, so I've invited her to stay over until Sunday, when we have to take a transport back to DC."

Trish looked back and forth between them, but all she could think of was to say, "Oh… you're not making a long stay this time…?"

"No mom, just a short stay over…" He suddenly realised that while the facts were simple enough, explaining them may not be quite so simple.

Fortunately Trish's innate good manners swiftly overcame the reservations she was having, and with a smile she turned back to Beth and holding her hand out, she said, "Miss Maartens, I'm sorry; I must appear to be the most ungracious hostess ever! But it's entirely my son's fault; he didn't tell us that he would be coming, let alone that he would be bringing a guest! Frank, go and get a glass each for these two, please. Now, you two, sit down and tell me exactly what brings you here!"

Beth felt overwhelmed by this whirlwind of a mother and with weak smile she sat, "I'm sorry Mrs… Rabb?"

"No, no, child. It's Mrs Burnett, officially, but hereabouts my name is Trish."

Beth's smile grew even weaker, "I'm sorry; if it's too inconvenient, I can get a cab back to VOQs and…"

Her protest was drowned out by a three part chorus of denial and insistence that she stay right where she was.

Once that she was assured that Beth wasn't going to flee the scene, Trish sat back in her recliner and sent a mock-glare at her son, who had unzipped the top half of his flight suit and was now leaning back in his chair, a moisture-beaded glass of Sangria in his hand and a contented smile on his face.

"So, young man," Trish began, "Explanation please!"

"I couldn't call you Mom, because I didn't know I was flying today! I was at work, when I got orders to report to Andrews ready to fly. Apparently there's some sort of flu bug going around the BOQ that's temporarily KO'd half the flight personnel and I got called in as a last minute replacement. I didn't even know where I'd be flying to until I got to the flight line. So… really the people you ought to blame are _Skates_ and _Keeter!"_

"Oh, Frank! Isn't that just like him, to blame people who aren't here to defend themselves!"

"Mom! Frank, tell her! Beth!" Harm protested, appealing to his step-father and RIO in turn

"Hey, don't look at me for help Harm, I'm just as ticked as your mom!" Frank told him, but with a teasing gleam in his eye.

Harm turned a hangdog expression on his RIO, "Aw c'mon Beth, you were there, back me up… please?"

Even during this brief interchange Beth had caught the undercurrent of almost permanent teasing and good humour that seemed to be an essential part of this household, and had relaxed from the tension of her first two minutes when she had thought that she might be unwelcome.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Bur… uh… Trish. But the Commander's right… he didn't know, we didn't know, where we were headed until we were already on the flight line and getting our briefing. The whole board was shot to he… uh… the whole board had to be re-written at short notice, and nobody knew where they were going; and it was Commanders Keeter and Hawkes who settled the details."

Trish pretended for a moment to be unmoved by Beth's defence of her scapegrace son, but then allowed her smile to shine through, "Oh, alright then… you're forgiven… again! But, look you two, I'm going to have to add something to the pot for dinner, and that's going to take about forty minutes. So why don't you two make use of that time and go and get freshened up and changed - I can smell the airplane fuel on you from way over here! Harm you'll be in your old room, and Harm you can show Beth… you don't mind me calling you Beth, do you, dear? Harm, show her to Loren's room, that's ready for use!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Harm replied, standing, "Beth?"

"Yes, sir."

"Harmon!"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"What have I told you about pretending to be good little sailor boys and girls in my house?"

Harm thought furiously for a second or two, and then the penny dropped, "Yes, mom, I just haven't explained the house rules to Beth, yet." He smiled apologetically.

"Well, make sure you do - and before dinner!"

Harm picked up their bags and led Beth through the family room and along the hallway, "What's with the house rules, thing, sir?" she asked.

"Ah… just that… Beth. Mom isn't navy and she really doesn't like her guests calling each other sir and ma'am and Commander and Lieutenant. She says she doesn't care what we do outside the house, but as long as we're under her roof, we play by her rules."

"So… I should call you…?"

"Harm, and if it is not a problem for you then I assume it's Beth, or do you prefer Elizabeth?"

"Damn! I should have taken that bet! That's ten bucks I'd have won off myself!" Beth chuckled at his surprised look, "It's not Elizabeth, although everyone automatically thinks so, my full name's Bethany, but I do prefer Beth!"

Harm nodded in acknowledgement, as he opened a door for her. "This is where mom said for you to sleep. The bathroom's at the end of the hallway, and my room is just two doors short of it on this side. If you need anything else, just give me a shout, and if you can leave me enough time for a shower before dinner I'd be obliged."

"You got it… Harm," she acknowledged, trying the sound of his name on her tongue

Dinner turned out to be a seafood risotto which Trish had stretched with addition of vegetables and added a side dish of salad and tortillas wraps, for which she apologised to Beth, "Of course, if I had been warned to expect company, I would have had the time and made the effort to put on a proper meal, especially for a first-time guest," glancing pointedly at Harm.

"OK, mom, OK, mea culpa! I surrender!"

"Of course you do, dear," she said complacently dropping a huge stage wink at both Frank and Beth. "Of course," she continued, most unfairly in Harm's opinion, "It was a given that he'd forsake his family duties as soon he got a chance to sit in one of those horrible Topcats."

"Mom! That's Tomcat! And," he added shrewdly, "well you know it! And what's more I have _not_ abandoned my family duties. If anything, my family has abandoned me!" he finished with an air of justified grievance.

Beth's head was swiveling back and forwards between Trish and Harm as she followed the verbal rally, pretty much as if she'd been following a top class tennis match, while Frank just sat back and enjoyed watching and listening to two of the people he loved most in the whole world tease and spar with one another."

"So, Jen got fed up with you already and has left you then?" Trish ragged him.

"You know very well she has not!" an exasperated Harm exclaimed, "She's taken Loren and Alexandra up to Belleville to visit Grams for the weekend! And you know that too!" he said, remembering that Jen had told him she'd discussed the visit with Trish during one of their frequent 'phone calls.

"Thirty - fifteen," Frank intoned with a gesture towards Trish.

Beth who was rapidly becoming confused by the plethora of names, turned to Harm, "Jen and Loren and Alexandra, they're your wife and daughters?"

"Huh? Oh. No, no they're not. Well, Jen _is_ my wife…" he paused for a few seconds trying to define a succinct method of describing Loren's tie in with his family, "but Loren… well, Loren is my half-brother's ex-girlfriend, and Alexandra is their daughter…"

Beth was not much the wiser, but decided that with the time lag, it was by her body-clock's estimation gone twenty-two hundred hours, she was too tired to pursue the matter any further, and was looking forward to the end of the dinner, when she could, after a suitable period, make her excuses and get to bed.

Almost as if reading her mind, Harm glanced at his watch, it was almost twenty-hundred hours here on the West Coast, so that made it nearly twenty-three hundred hours EST, and Jen had promised to call as soon as she'd got to Bellville, and even allowing for the Friday afternoon traffic chaos around DC she should have reached Grams' by now.

Harm pushed his plate to one side, and asked, "Will you excuse me, please?" and rising from the table, he left the room in favour of the sun deck and taking his cell phone from his pocket, he dialed Jen's cell number. Instead of hearing the ringing tone on the other end there was silence followed by an automated message, "_The number you are trying to reach is either out of service or has been switched off. Please try again later._"

Swearing silently under his breath, he dialed the Rabb farm number. It only rang twice before it was picked up, "_Sarah Rabb_."

"Grams! It's Harmon. Are Jen and Loren with you yet?"

"_Harmon; no, they haven't arrived yet. There's no answer from Jennifer's phone and no answer from your home number. Harmon, where are you_?"

"Uh… I had to take a flight out west, Grams, I'm at mom's."

"_Oh, Harmon, I'm worried, dear, we've been hit by the worst summer storm in memory, it's come down from the lakes, and from DC Jennifer would be driving straight into it!_"


	32. In This Windy Old Weather

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 32  
>In This Windy old Weather<strong>

Harm returned to the dining room, his 'phone held loosely in his hand and his face dead white. Frank, who had been asking Beth about her career as a female RIO in a still-male-dominated career while Trish listened with interest, looked up casually as Harm walked into the room and stopped what he was saying mid-sentence.

"Harm?" he enquired, the anxiety in his voice plainly evident and bringing the heads of the two women round to stare at Harm.

Harm gestured helplessly with his 'phone, "I've just been talking to Grams. Jen and Loren should have called me from her place, but they haven't so I called…"

Trish gasped and covered her mouth with a hands, "Oh, Harm, no… please, no"

"I… I don't… mom, I don't know… there's a bad storm… they haven't arrived, Grams said, and there's no answer from her cell 'phone… and… I don't know…"

Beth stood, her face reflecting shock and sympathy, "I'm sorry… you must be wishing me well away. I'll grab my bags and get a cab back to Miramar…"

"You'll do no such thing!" Trish interrupted her fiercely, "You are our guest!"

"But…" Beth tried again.

Frank had guided a speechless Harm back to his seat and sat him down, and now turned to the young woman, "Beth, we might need you… Harm's in no real state to do anything, and there's 'phone calls to be made, as well as some checks that need to be done, and if you can help with the computer side of things, please?"

Beth, with her sense of duty appealed to, could only nod her head, "Well, if you're sure I won't be in the way, I'll do whatever I can…"

"Thank you. Trish, can you get a big pot of coffee going? I think we're going to need it!"

Harm suddenly seemed to wake up, "Frank, can you take me to San Diego, I need to get the first flight back to DC…"

"Harm! Listen to me! You can't go rushing off at half-cock… You don't have the faintest idea of what's happening back there!"

Harm sprang to his feet, "Frank! That's _my wife_ that's missing!"

"And you'll do her no good by rushing clear across the country without knowing what you're getting into, or without even the faintest idea of what you're going to do when you get there!" Although Harm towered over him, and was half his age, there wasn't an inch of give in Frank as he got in Harm's face.

Harm glared at his step-father, his face working, "Get out of my way, Frank." His voice was calm and quiet.

Frank shook his head, "Not going to happen, Harm," he stated flatly.

Beth stood slowly, ready to interpose herself between the two men, certain that neither of them would make a move toward the other if meant laying hands on her. "Harm… Harm!" she said, her voice rising slightly on the repetition of his name.

Harm turned his face towards her, and her heart ached for the agony she saw in his face and eyes. "Harm, Frank's right, you need to stand down; what would you say to a nugget who wanted to go-off half-assed because his wingman was missing? I thought I was flying with _Hammer_, this weekend, not _X-Man_," she added deliberately.

Harm drew a shuddering breath and a great deal of the tension seemed to go out of his body. He sank back into his chair and resting his elbows on the table, he buried his face in his hands for a long moment. Then raising his head, he looked at Frank, "I'm sorry, Frank. I just kinda…"

"Yeah I got it, Harm, it's OK, son." Frank's face was full of understanding, but he was relieved that he hadn't had to try and physically restrain Harm. He hadn't been too sure that he would have been able to do so, nor was he at all certain that Harm would have restrained his actions.

Harm nodded his acknowledgement, and with an embarrassed grin he turned to his RIO, "Thanks Beth. I needed that."

Beth too nodded, "You're welcome."

Trish who had been standing immobile in the doorway leading to the kitchen breathed a silent sigh of relief and returned to making a fresh pot of coffee, using the biggest pot she had in the house.

Frank laid a hand on Harm's shoulder. "Come on son, let's move this down to the office, and see what information we can get, and then try to work out where the girls might be."

Harm nodded his assent and turned to Beth, "If you're sure you want to help, you'd best follow on."

"Of course I'm with you _Hammer_, to hell and back, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember."

Ten minutes later saw Beth seated in front of Frank's top of the line home computer, her fingers flying over the keys as she logged into the US meteorological department's website and followed various links until she found the Storm Prediction Centre page. What was displayed on the screen brought fresh concern to the faces of all three.

A band of darkness crossed Pennsylvania from the north east to south west corners of the state, moving south eastwards. Beth looked at Frank, "Is it OK if I print this out?"

Frank answered, "Yes, yes, of course."

As the printer whispered into life, Beth followed a couple of more links and then her lips pursed in a soundless whisper, as she studied the screen.

Harm could no longer restrain his impatience, "Well?" he demanded.

Beth pushed her chair back from the work station. "There is a severe storm warning issued for Pennsylvania, Maryland, DC and Virginia. It's moving Nor' West to Sou' East, at about sixty miles per hour, but with gusts of up to ninety." She pulled the print out closer to them and with her finger followed the path of the storm. "Look, as of about ten minutes ago - that site updates almost in real time - it covered most of Pennsylvania. Umm, Harm, what time do you think they left home, and what route would they take?"

Harm thought for a few moments, although to Frank and Beth, and to Trish who now stood behind them with coffee pot in one hand and a bunch of mugs hanging from the fingers of her other hand, it seemed much longer.

"They should have left at about eighteen hundred…" he began slowly, "that assumes that Jen secured on time, and didn't get hung up in traffic on the way home. It can be a real bear getting around the Pentagon area on a Friday afternoon… any afternoon really… but Fridays especially…"

"OK, let's say that she left at… eighteen thirty? What route would she have taken…?"

"We've only been to Grams once, so I guess she'd have taken the same route I took, that's up to Hagerstown and then onto the PA… hell, I can't remember the route number!"

"OK, not to worry about that," Beth said as her fingers flew again, this time filling the screen with a route map of northern Maryland and southern Pennsylvania.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Jen, it's no good! I can't get a signal!" Loren almost wept as she tried for the seventh or eighth time to call the number Jen had given her for Harm's cell 'phone, Jen's 'phone, connected to a different provider, lay on the seat beside her, almost under her thigh, and had proved to be just as useless.

Jen turned her head from the road for an instant, her own face reflecting the worry she was feeling, "Dammit Loren, keep trying! Please!"

The Lexus was crawling along, almost on the verge at no more than about twenty miles an hour. The road was dead level and straight and totally exposed to the full fury of the storm which slammed against the side of the vehicle, and at one point it had seemed to Jen that the high-sided vehicle was about to be flipped onto its side by the force of the wind.

Almost in tears, Jen had to almost continuously wipe her eyes clear as she fought to peer through the murk ahead. At first she thought she was seeing things, but, no, there it was again!

"Loren, look! Look there! I think I can see something!"

Loren raised he eyes from the 'phone and squinted into the darkness, "No… I don't see anything," she started and then excitement rising in her voice "Oh God! Yes! Flashing lights!"

Jen breathed a heartfelt "Thank God!" as the SUV slowly approached what turned out to be two Pennsylvania State Police cruisers parked so as to form a chicane on the highway with their red and yellow roof flights flashing a warning to oncoming vehicles. As Jen applied the brakes, a State Trooper, well wrapped in a yellow oilskin suit over his uniform, but minus his 'Smokey the Bear' cover approached the SUV. As he neared, Jen wound down the window and squinted as the trooper's flashlight shone into her face and then swung it around so that he could see exactly who was in the car.

"Good evening ma'am," he grinned reassuringly, his white teeth in marked contrast to his dark skin. "Road ahead's closed ma'am! Where are you headed?" he shouted over the noise of the storm.

"Bellville, from DC," Jen shouted back.

The Trooper nodded his understanding and pointed to the gap between the two police cruisers, "There's trees down across the road up ahead at Shade Gap. We're pulling everything off the road until this bit.. uh… until this storm's passes over. Ma'am about a quarter of a mile ahead, there's a church, just short of the cross ways, Deacon Jarvis has opened it up to give travelling folks some shelter. It ain't much, but it's warm and safe. I suggest you go that far and no further!"

Jen nodded her thanks and wound the window closed and then gingerly edged the SUV between the two patrol cars and still at a low speed crawled towards the suggested shelter of the local church.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"OK," Beth said once she'd typed in a few more parameters. "According to this program there are three logical routes from Falls Church to Belleville, but only one of them goes through Hagerstown! Are you sure that's the route they would have taken?" She twisted around in her chair to look at Harm who had the landline 'phone pressed to his ear and an expression of frustration on his face.

"Dammit!" He swore as he slammed the 'phone back into its cradle, and ran his fingers through his hair, "Yeah, I'm sure…" he shrugged, "she might have taken one of the other routes, but I can't see that happening. She knows the roads from the DC area as far as Hagerstown - she was born and raised there," he quickly explained. And like I said, that's the route we took the only time we went to Belleville, you know Frank, that week after the wedding. We left you, mom and Loren to look at houses.. we had such a good time there…"

"You will again, Harmon Rabb!" Trish scolded him. "Don't you dare give up on that girl!"

"No, mom… of course not… it's just hope for the best but prepare…"

"Don't even think of finishing that sentence Harmon David Rabb! Look if anything had happened to Jen, or to Loren, they would have had their navy ID with them, right?"

"Yes…"

"So, the hospital or the police would have told the navy, right?"

"Yes ma'am, I suppose so…"

"And the navy, that is JAG and the air base, know where you are, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"So, if anything had happened, there would have been two officers banging on our door, to tell us the news, right?" Trish closed her eyes remembering the Christmas Eve when that had been her fate.

"Yes, mom," Harm agreed also remembering the night that killed his belief in the miracle of Christmas, as he took two steps across the room and folded his mother into his arms. Trish let him hold her for a few seconds, her head buried in his shoulder, until she regained control of her emotions, and then easing herself free, she smiled mistily up at him, "I'll just go and get some bear-claws to wash down that coffee," and then she whispered for Harm's ears only, "Thank you."

Beth had been waiting for Trish to finish her pep-talk before she continued, "So if they went via Hagerstown they'd have taken the PA-75, the PA-16 and then…" as she followed the route roughly northwards, "onto the US-522 all the way up to the US-22 and then the PA-655 right into Belleville. That sound about right?"

"Yeah, that's it," Harm agreed.

"And if they made it to Belleville, no matter how bad the roads or the weather, if they couldn't get up Greenwood Road Jen would have had the sense to ask for help, then someone would have either gotten them or gotten word of their arrival up to Grams!" Frank finished triumphantly.

Beth and Trish nodded their agreement, and for a moment Harm felt his spirits lift. It was difficult to remain despondent when he was surrounded by so much optimism.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen pulled off the road where she saw a man in a yellow slicker fighting to keep his feet against the force of the wind waving a flashlight to guide them in to the parking lot alongside the church. There seemed to be about two dozen other vehicles parked there, all close in to the lee side of the church to shield them both from the wind and any flying debris. Although on the sheltered side of the church there was still enough wind to be felt and the noise of the storm didn't seem to have dropped in the slightest, and the rain still came down heavily enough to almost instantly soak the two women as they struggled to unload their necessaries from the SUV, Jen grabbing their jackets and the diaper bag, while Loren busied herself releasing Alexandra's car seat from its fastenings.

Seeing that there were two women apparently alone with a baby, the roadside guide fought his way across the parking lot towards them and yelled, "Give me that bag, ma'am, and follow me!" and turned back towards the front of the building. Struggling against the wind, and both of them trying to protect a frightened and crying Alexandra from the worst of the weather Jen and Loren made it to the church door, where with an obvious effort the roadside guide, a burly African-American, heaved the door open enough for them to enter the peace, warmth and dryness of the building.

As they stood recovering their breath and letting their eyes adjust to the comparatively bright light they were approached by another African-American man. He was huge, taller by about four inches even than Harm and much broader through chest and shoulders. He appeared to have no waist; his body seemed to be the same width from chest down to his hips. But around his neck he wore a minister's white collar, and his eyes seemed particularly gentle. His voice reminded both of them of Sturgis Turner, it was as rich and mellow but deeper than the voice of Harm's old academy buddy. "Good evening ladies, I'm Deacon James Jarvis, welcome to our little church," he chuckled indicating the interior of the building which held about forty other people, "as you can see, you're not exactly our first guests this evening; the Good Lord in His infinite mercy has seen fit to remind us of our place in His scheme of things by sending us this little breeze, and the State Police in their infinite wisdom have seen fit to close the roads!"

Despite the circumstances both Jen and Loren were cheered by the Deacon's good humour and by his evident readiness not to take himself too seriously. Deacon Jarvis continued, "We don't exactly have recourse to loaves and fishes, but we have managed to gather up some scraps and a rather large pot of coffee," he indicated a table that seemed to be covered with trays of sandwiches and snacks, "so go ahead and make yourselves to home. Do help yourself, and if you do need anything else just ask myself or," he pointed out two other African-Americans, "Sister Agnes or Brother Richard. Brother Richard will come to you soon in any case. I'm afraid that the weather has wreaked havoc not only with the cell 'phone towers in the area, but also with normal telephone lines. Brother Richard will take your names and the 'phone numbers of anyone who might need to be told where you are, and we'll pass them along to the State Police who will make sure that your loved ones are told. But please, go ahead."

Rather taken aback by this welcome Jen and Loren could do no more than smile and murmur their thanks as they entered the main body of the church, casting about them for somewhere they could have a modicum of privacy, not so much for themselves, but for Alexandra who was beginning to cry as the discomfort of her full diaper made itself felt. Privacy would also be needed for Loren who would, before much longer, have to attend to Alexandra's need for feeding.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Yeah," Harm agreed, but after a moment he became sombre again, "Here's the thing though. They haven't made it to Belleville, because even if Grams only had word that they were in town, she'd have let us know the instant she did!"

Harm's words cast a spell of silence over the others in the room, until Beth, perhaps because she wasn't intimately connected with Jen and Loren coughed, bringing the other three's faces towards her. "Umm… people, standing around just looking at each other isn't going to help… we… uh… need to… try and figure out where they might have got as far as when they ran into the storm?"

Thankful for the young woman's good sense, and her tact, Frank smiled at her, "You're absolutely right Beth. Come on Harm, sit down son, and let's try and do some basic time and distance math!"

Harm nodded his acknowledgement and thanks to Frank and Beth impartially and perched on the very end of the work station, leaving the only other available chair for Trish.

Beth opened a new tab and called up a basic calculator, "Right, we said that they'd leave Falls Church at about eighteen thirty, right?" She paused for nods of agreement before she continued, and from looking at that storm centre weather map, we're pretty certain that they'd have been well into Pennsylvania before they hit it, or it hit them, right?" Again she paused, and again she received nods of agreement.

"Well, Harm, how long would it take for them to reach the Maryland/Pennsylvania state line?"

"H'mm I always reckoned an hour and half from the DC area to Hagerstown, and that's only a few miles short of the line, say an hour forty?"

"OK, that brings us up to twenty ten hours, and onto the…" she switched tabs, "PA-75, what sort of road is that?"

"It's two lane blacktop and pretty well flat, all the way from the state line to Belleville."

"OK… it looks like it's a pretty straight road?" Harm grunted his agreement, as Beth asked, "Is Jen a fast 'n' furious type on the road, what sort of speed would she be driving at?"

"No, she wouldn't be… not with Alexandra in the car… if anything, she might be a little slower than usual… say an average speed of forty."

"Right." Beth's fingers flew again as she made some further calculations, before she stopped, double checked her figures and then said, "OK, if - and I say if - Jen and Loren left Falls Church at eighteen thirty, and crossed in Pennsylvania at twenty ten, and drove at an average of forty to the hour, then the furthest north they could have gotten before they ran into the storm is… here." She pointed to a spot on the map on the US-522 just north of a small speck on the map labelled Shade Gap.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen and Loren found a space on one of the pews where Loren dragged the changing mat out from the depths of the diaper bag and laid it on the pew while Jen unfastened the crying Alexandra from her car seat and then passed her to Loren. Both young women recoiled as Loren opened Alexandra's one-piece, and although both wrinkled their noses in disgust Loren couldn't help grinning at Jen's expression, "Don't look so offended Jen, it'll soon be your turn!" and then she added with a provoking smile, "Babies aren't all sweetness and baby-powder smelling!"

Jen threw a murderous glance at Loren, "Yeah… thanks for reminding me! But… you know… I just can't wait!"

Loren knew exactly what Jen meant, but the relief she felt at getting out of the weather needed to find an outlet and she couldn't resist teasing her friend a little, "Oh, sweetheart, if you think you're impatient now, just wait another six or seven months, when you can't see your feet, you can't bend to shave your legs, your ankles are all swollen, your feet hurt and your back aches and… then you'll really want to get it over and done with!"

Jen sat back on her heels and asked a trifle anxiously, "But don't you feel she was worth it?"

Loren's face blossomed into a sweet, dreamy smile, "Oh yes, oh, so very yes… every damn minute of it!"

"Excuse me, honey." A warm voice interrupted them, "We don't 'xactly have a bath here, but mebbe a bowl of warm water might he'p out some?"

Loren looked up into the beaming smile on the face of Sister Agnes, who held a basin of water in her hands and towel draped over one forearm. "Uh… yes… thank you… thank you very much…"

"You're welcome, honey, an' jus' give me a holler when you're done an' I'll get rid of all the trash for you…" Sister Agnes smiled even more broadly, if that were possible, as she looked at Alexandra, "She sure is beautiful…" Loren smiled her acknowledgement of the compliment and turned her attention back to Alexandra, who with both Jen and Loren attending to her needs was cleaned, washed, dried, powdered and changed in next to no time. The two women looked at each as Alexandra started to fret again, "Someone's hungry," Loren muttered as she looked around trying to figure the best way to feed her daughter and retain some privacy.

Jen shrugged out of her jacket, and perching sideways on the pew, tried to stretch the jacket, so that with her body blocking one side, and Loren blocking the other, the jacket would act as a curtain to hide the front, while the pew's high back shielded them from view from the rear.

Loren looked around, it wasn't ideal, but it would have to do. Pulling her sweater up just enough, she unhooked her bra and put Alexandra to her nipple. Jen had seen Loren feed Alexandra before, but never at such close quarters, as she stared in fascination at the sight before her. They were both startled by an interruption, "The whole jacket thing you've got going there isn't really working ladies," said a voice from the pew in front, "This might be offer better protection."

The speaker was a youngish man who had slid into the pew in front of them, and seemed to be talking out of the side of his mouth as he started straight ahead at the altar at the front of the church, as he extended an arm backwards, offering the two women a long, dark blue raincoat. With a murmured "Thank you," Jen took the offered coat and draped it more securely around her and Loren's shoulders as Loren smiled too, appreciating the extra privacy the greater volume of cloth afforded.

As Loren readjusted her clothing Jen draped the raincoat neatly over one arm and leaning forward placed her hand on the pew back and said again "Thank, you, we're done. Thank you very much Mr…?"

The man glanced quickly over his shoulder, as if to assure himself that Loren was decently covered before turning half around and extending his right hand, "Medwick, David Medwick…" his voice trailed off as he looked more closely at Loren and a faint frown appeared on his face, and then as if he'd realised how hackneyed his introduction had sounded, he grinned, and added "Oh… I'm sorry, that sounded… but no, really, I'm not a double-Oh anything. Lieutenant David Medwick, Navy," he clarified.

"That's just as well," Jen chuckled, "we already know one spy, and that's one too many," especially considering the number of times he's nearly got Harm killed…

Loren glared at Jen for a moment, she'd just left them almost obliged to talk to this… stranger, even if he was a fellow officer. That did not mean that he was any more trustworthy than anyone else! "Loren Singer," she grudgingly introduced herself, "and Jennifer Rabb," indicating Jen.

David Medwick sat up as if galvanised, "Rabb? Any relation to Harm Rabb? Wait, of course you are! I danced with you, a couple of weeks back - at your wedding! I'm sorry I didn't recognise you… it was a bit dark in the Army and Navy Club… and you were… you weren't wearing jeans and sweater!"

Jen couldn't help laughing at his embarrassment, "And the wine was such an aid to clarity too wasn't it!" she teased him, "But I'm sorry too, it's just that I danced with so many of you guys, that I don't recognise you at all I'm afraid, and I didn't catch your name - you all used call-signs…"

David Medwick grinned even more broadly, "Yeah… I'm _Tuna_… I flew with Harm when he was on the PH, he was _Pappy_ then… and then we gave him his dad's call-sign…"

"Yeah," Jen smiled, "_Skates_ told me…"

"Uh-huh..." Medwick then turned to look at Loren again, and again the frown appeared on his face. "This is going to sound like the corniest pick-up line ever, but I'm pretty sure I recognise you too, but from somewhere else…"

Loren glared at him. He obviously wasn't going to give up on this, "I work with Harm at JAG. I'm a JAG attorney."

Medwick sat back with a relieved smile, "I knew I'd seen you somewhere... I was at JAG a couple of years back for _Skates_' Court-Martial; I must have seen you around then…"

"It's possible, I suppose," Loren said disinterestedly, turning back to Alexandra, who was now enjoying an after dinner nap.

"But I don't recognise this little one," Medwick persisted.

Loren shut her eyes briefly, "Well, no you wouldn't; she's neither been on the Henry, nor was she at _Skates_' Court Martial, nor was she dancing at Jen and Harm's wedding!" she replied in acidic accents.

Medwick winced dramatically, his protesting "Ow, that's harsh!" almost drowning out Jen's hissed "Loren!"

Loren had the grace to blush, but she remained silent. The silence became awkward and Medwick eventually felt compelled to ask, "What brings you ladies out on a night like this?"

"Ah…" Jen shot a glance at Loren, who appeared oblivious to everyone and everything else as she concentrated on her sleeping baby, "We… we're heading up to Belleville, visiting Harm's grandmother… but…"

"But mother nature intervened, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess. You?"

"Oh, I've been recalled from leave, got to head down to Andrews, seems like there's some sort of bug intent on wiping out the aircrews down there, so…"

Jen nodded, "Yeah, Harm's been called in to fly too… he was on a hop to Miramar." Her face became troubled, "He is going to be so mad at me… we were supposed to call when we reached Grams, but we were held up, and now I can't get through to him 'cause the damn storm seems to have done something to the 'phone network… He's going to be so worried and…" there was a catch in her voice, and her eyes filled with tears. Loren, proving that despite appearances she hadn't been totally preoccupied with Alexandra, sat up and folded Jen into her arms, while she glared at Medwick.

"Now see what you've done!" she said bitterly.

Medwick was taken aback, both by Jen's sudden emotional attack and by Loren's words, "Uh… I'll… I'll just…" he frantically looked around for inspiration, "I'll just go and get us all some coffee," he suggested with a strained smile.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Beth looked expectantly at Harm and Frank, but when neither spoke, she demanded, "Well… do you agree with me or not!"

Frank looked down quickly at Beth's calculations and then back up at the VDU, "Harm?" he asked.

"Yeah, looks good to me… great job, Beth, thanks…" he continued standing staring at the screen as if he could make Jen and Loren appear on it by magic.

Frank shook his head, "Beth, can you used that thing to find a 'phone number for the Pennsylvania State Police Headquarters?"

"Of course," Beth replied and again turned her attention to the keyboard. Within a couple of minutes, she stopped typing and scribbled a number down on piece of note paper and handed it to Frank, who immediately grabbed the telephone and started punching number at the same time as he spoke to Harm, "Quickly son, write down the vehicle particulars, and Loren and Jen's full names - it'll help the Police identify them more quickly if they have all the details when they find them!" 'especially,' was his unspoken thought, 'if it's bodies and not survivors they're identifying.' His unprofitable and depressing line of thought was broken as at last the 'phone on the other of the line was picked.

"_Pennsylvania State Police Headquarters, how may I help you?"_

"Good evening, I'd like to speak to someone about some missing people."

"_Please hold the line one minute, sir." _Frank fretted for what seemed an age, thank God that at least the Pennsylvania State Police didn't have canned music playing while their callers were placed on 'hold'

"_Sergeant Fisher."_

"Sergeant, good evening, this is Frank Burnett, Executive VP for Chrysler, USA. I need some information, and if possible some help, please."

"How can we do that Mr Burnett?"

"Uh… my daughters-in-law and my granddaughter left the DC area this evening, at about six-thirty, we think, heading for Belleville, via Hagerstown, Maryland and the US-522. They haven't arrived at their destination, and we can't raise them on their cell 'phones. We've looked at the situation you've got back there, and we're afraid they've run into some sort of trouble because of the storm. Is there any way that you can get us any information? I have the vehicle details, and my daughters-in-law details, if that's any help. Sergeant," and his voice dropped at least half an octave making his next remark almost a plea, "My granddaughter is just six weeks old."

"_Sir, I do appreciate your anxiety, but you must understand we're getting hundreds of calls, all asking the same thing you are." _The Sergeant paused,_ "You need to understand too, sir, that the storm has knocked out practically every cell 'phone tower in the eastern half of the state, as well as having brought down a lot of ordinary telephone lines and power cables. Half the roads in the eastern counties are blocked by fallen trees, and the weather conditions are making radio communication difficult."_

"Are you saying you can't help us, Sergeant?"

"_No, sir. Not at all, but what I'm trying to tell you, is that things are just a bit chaotic back there. We've had to close a lot of routes - and the US-522 is one of those routes we've closed - and direct people on those routes to places of safety, but we can't speak to our patrols out there for the moment, so we have no idea of how many people have been affected, let alone who they are. So we maybe won't be able to get news to you as quickly as we'd like. But as soon as we do hear anything, we will keep you informed. You just need to sit tight and be patient, sir."_

"Thank you, Sergeant. I'm sure your men are doing their best."

"_Thank you, sir. Sir, do you have a contact number, your family members' names and the vehicle details?"_

"Oh… oh, yes… yes, of course…"


	33. Stormy Old Weather

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 33  
>Stormy Old Weather<strong>

"Well, you all heard that?" Frank queried as he replaced the handset on its cradle, and looking around to see the three nods of agreement. "I don't suppose any of us will get any sleep until we've heard something, but I would suggest that we try and get some rest."

"Frank, if you think I'm going to move more than six feet away from that 'phone…" Harm began to protest, but he was interrupted by Frank.

"Harm, no, I don't expect you to move at all. But…" Frank regarded the other three levelly, but more especially Harm, "We've got the two armchairs and the couch in the AV room. I'll connect an extension to the 'phone and run it through into there, and we can wheel the office chair through as well. That will give us the chance to stand watches - if that's OK with you Beth?"

"Yes, yes, of course…"

"Thank you. So… let's split the night into three watches, four hours per watch…"

"I'll take the middle watch," Harm immediately volunteered.

"I stake dibs on the last watch!" Beth chimed in hastily

"Leaving me with the first watch, huh?" Frank mustered a grim smile, "I know exactly what you two are doing - mollycoddling me! But, OK, if that's the way you want to play it!"

"And what about me, Frank Burnett?" An indignant Trish stood by the door, her hands on her hips, "Do you think that I'm too weak, frail or stupid to be able to sit by a telephone?"

"Not at all, darling," Frank replied crossing the room to his wife and taking her gently in his arms, and taking the opportunity to whisper in her ear, "You've got the toughest job of all." And as Trish looked up at him with a question in her eyes, he added "You've got our son to look after."

Trish's eyes locked on to Harm as he sat on the edge of the work station, the fear and helplessness he felt plainly written on his face. "Yes, I see what you mean," Trish replied slowly, "Well, I'll just have to see what can be done!"

Frank's suggested arrangements were swiftly made and he took up post by the telephone while Beth dozed in one of the two stuffed and padded leather covered armchairs, while Harm at Trish's urgings returned to the dining room where he sent half an hour helping her clear away the wreckage of the meal and load the dishwasher.

He returned to Frank's den with his arms loaded with blankets, one of which he draped over Beth, disturbing her just enough for her to realise what was happening and thank him with a smiling murmur, two more blankets he dropped on the couch for Frank and Trish and taking the last for himself, dropped into the second armchair where he tried, without much success to get some rest before he took over the watch from Frank.

Trish brewed another fresh pot of coffee, before returning to the den, where curling up in the corner of the couch, she hugged her coffee-mug and anxiously watched over her son's restless attempts to sleep.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Gradually the hum of conversation that had overlain the interior of the little church eased as those taking shelter there tried, with varying degrees of success, to get some rest. David Medwick had brought coffees for the three of them, and although he had stayed near them, he didn't quite feel up to dealing any further with Loren's sharp tongue. He was sure he hadn't said or done anything out of line, and was at a loss to account for her attitude. Still, even when she was being shrewish, she was an attractive woman, even now as she dozed with her mouth hanging open just a little… And the baby… the baby is really cute… And she's not wearing any rings…. David Medwick's eyes begin to close, and as he dozed off his mouth too drooped open.

It was sometime later, how much later, he wasn't sure, but he'd been awoken by something… oh, yeah, the tall, skinny black guy… brother something, was moving down the aisle with an armful of blankets, handing them out to people. The sight of the blankets made Medwick shiver, as he realised that it was getting damn chilly here in the church. He sat upright and raised a hand, brother… brother Richard, yes that was it, saw and came across, "Do you want a blanket, sir?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"Three please," Medwick answered, and in reply to the other man's unspoken question, he indicated the dozing figures of Jen and Loren in the pew behind, who although wrapped up in their jackets had instinctively snuggled up against each for warmth, with the baby in her car-seat between them. Brother Richard nodded his understanding, smiled and peeled three blankets from the stack he carried. Medwick knelt up on the pew, and leaning over gently draped two of the blankets over both Jen and Loren. As gentle and careful of his movements as he was, he still managed to disturb Loren, who gazed dully at him for a moment with uncomprehending eyes, before murmuring, "M'mm… thanks" and falling back into her doze.

David Medwick sighed, and once more pillowing his head on his rolled rain coat drifted off into a doze. Once again however, he was awakened, but this time by the unmistakable sound of a fretting infant. Knuckling his eyes, and with grimace of distaste, wiping a smear of drool from the corner of his mouth, he raised his head to see Loren lifting her baby from the car seat, and groaning in dismay, as she realised that once again Alexandra needed a change, and probably a feed. Jen had also woken, and the two women, shivering in reaction to their bodies' sleep-lowered temperature laid out the changing mat and rummaged in the diaper bag for wipes, powder and fresh diapers.

David Medwick rapidly evaluated the situation and took the command decision that his presence was not required, and would not be appreciated, and quietly headed over to the trestle table to see if there was any drinkable coffee left.

Sister Agnes smiled as he asked, and poured three mugs, "Fresh brewed not more'n ten minutes ago," she earnestly assured him.

Medwick returned her smile with a grin of his own, "Thank you, sister, I'm sure the ladies will really appreciate it."

Sister Agnes continued to smile, as he walked away, and she heaved a sigh. 'He sure is a fine lookin' young man; an' if I was just twenty years younger…' Sister Agnes shook her head in disapprobation of her thoughts. 'To be thinkin' of such things at my age, an' me a married woman too! Serve me right if the Good Lord saw fit to strike me dead!'

Carefully balancing the three coffee mugs, Medwick made his way back to the pew, where an eye-knuckling Jen and a yawning Loren were stowing Alexandra's necessaries back in her diaper bag. "Here you go, ladies," he murmured quietly, out of deference for those around who were still trying to sleep, or at least, rest.

Both Jen and Loren nodded their thanks, the former with a real smile of gratitude, and the latter with just a quick lift of the corners of her mouth, before she intercepted a glare from Jen, and mustered a muttered, "Thank you, Lieutenant."

All three sat sipping their coffee in silence, until Loren said to Jen, "That just goes to show how tired and out of it I really am! I've only just remembered, you didn't ought to be drinking that!"

Jen glowered at Loren, and replied "Thank you for reminding me! And the rest of the world!" as she shot a swift sideways glance at Medwick, who assumed an expression of total disinterest, "And if it comes to that," Jen continued furiously, "you shouldn't be drinking it either!"

Loren cast a guilty look in Medwick's direction, and an apologetic look at Jen, "Sorry," she mumbled, "Not really back with the world yet… But, if you don't tell Harm about you drinking it, then I won't say a word to him about me drinking it. Deal?"

It took Jen a few seconds to work through Loren's unexpected twist in her answer, and then giggled briefly, "Deal!" she agreed through her smile.

Then as the thought struck them, they turned to the seemingly oblivious Lieutenant Medwick, "And you didn't see us drinking it, either," Jen suggested.

"See who drinking what?" Medwick asked straight-faced.

Jen smiled, "Good man!" she grinned.

Loren just contented herself with a brief look at his face, before she nodded, a slight smile appearing on her face, but as she was turning her head towards Alexandra who had started to fuss, neither Jen nor David Medwick were sure whether he or the baby were the intended recipient.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Frank gently shook Harm's shoulder, not to wake him up, the older man was well aware that Harm hadn't really slept, just slipped into and out of an uneasy doze, but to let him know that it was midnight, and time for Harm's stint sitting next to the telephone.

Frank waited until Harm was on his feet and had oriented himself in the now dimly lit room before he whispered, "There's a thermos of coffee your mother fixed before she went to lie down, and if you want it there's another thermos - over there - of hot chocolate in case you want a mug before you try and sleep again."

Harm stretched and nodded his acknowledgement and turned towards the office chair, but as he did so, a flicker of movement caught his eye and turning back, he saw to his surprise that his mother was lying on the couch, and had held up the blanket covering her so that Frank, once he'd kicked his shoes off could join her. But what struck Harm was the smile she directed at her husband; totally oblivious to Harm and Beth's presence, it was filled with so much love that Harm could almost feel it where he stood on the other side of the room. And for some reason he found that seeing his mother with such a loving expression on her face, brought hastily swallowed tears to his eyes.

For Harm, the next four hours dragged, seemingly interminably, the 'phone, despite his frequent glares at it stayed obstinately silent and he had to fight down the temptation to call the number for the Pennsylvania State Police that Beth had scribbled on a Post-It and stuck to the VDU's frame, but although it might have helped if he could at least vent, he knew that by calling unnecessarily he could be preventing an urgent message to be passed to someone, somewhere, perhaps even to him via the phone he found himself glaring at yet again.

In an effort to occupy his mind, he wheeled the chair back nearer to the computer and spent fifteen minutes finding the weather program that Beth had found seemingly in seconds. Justifying, as if it needed it, he told himself, his long held belief that it really was the RIOs, with their computer know-how, that were the important half of a Tomcat's crew, and maybe there was more truth in the description than anyone liked to admit when they referred to their pilots as 'Drivers'.

When he did discover, more or less by accident, he grinned mirthlessly, the same site that Beth had used earlier, he saw that the storm centre was now well south of Pennsylvania, with its trailing edge on a line running from Philadelphia through Baltimore and down through Washington,

So the roads from Hagerstown up to Belleville were now clear of the worst of the weather, so why, oh, why had they still not heard anything! Once again his hand reached for 'phone, but this time it was Beth Maarten's voice that stopped him. "That won't help. Ace," she cautioned him quietly.

Harm sighed, and sat back in his chair, running his fingers through his hair, "I know, I know," he groaned in admission, and then as the awareness of the situation sunk in, he turned around to look at the still-blanket-draped figure in the other armchair, "What are you doing awake?" he asked softly.

"Getting ready for my watch," she smiled reassuringly at him. "I've got about four minutes left before I'm due." And she suddenly gave a mighty yawn. "Oops, sorry about that, guess I'm not quite as awake as I thought I was. It's been a while since I pulled a late watch."

Harm nodded towards the thermos, "Coffee."

Beth nodded in appreciation and stood and stretched before she picked up her mug to fill it from the flask.

"So, how long since you last pulled a late watch, Beth?" Harm asked.

"About… seven years ago," she confessed with a grin.

Harm looked at her in some surprise, "Seven years ago, you were standing watches?"

"Yeah…" Her grin now stretched clear across her face, "At the Academy! We… uh… had a bit of a disagreement with one of the instructors, involving a skateboard and his new ride…"

Harm suppressed a snort of laughter, despite his worry over Jen and Loren, the mental image of Midshipmen skateboarding around the Academy grounds, was too ridiculous, and so inappropriate that it was hilariously funny.

Beth smiled, "That's a bit better, Harm. I know you're worried, we all are… but if you don't get some rest, you'll be useless later on…"

Harm nodded. "You're right," he agreed, "and I'll try. But I can't promise to succeed."

"Try not… do" Beth intoned.

Harm stopped re-arranging his blanket… he'd heard those words quite recently, or something very similar. Then it came to him, Jen, with her 'think not… do'.

He glared across at Beth, who suddenly felt she might have crossed a line somewhere, "Sir…?"

"It's alright Beth," he reassured her, his face relaxing. After all she wasn't to know how Jen had teased him. "But just don't call me Ham Solo, or anything."

"No… I won't," she promised fervently, 'but the way he just growled at me, Chewbaca might be more appropriate… or maybe, _Harm Solo'_. At that thought she couldn't stifle a giggle, which brought Harm's head, turtle-like from under the blanket, as he gave her another glare.

The look of total innocence on her face didn't fool him for a second, but he just grunted, continued to glare for another couple of seconds, before turning away from her and pulling the blanket back up around his ears. Beth watched his performance and had to bite her knuckle to prevent herself from giggling again.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Loren could hear the quiet murmuring, it kept breaking into her conscious mind just when it felt that she might be able to let go of her worries and frustrations and forget about how uncomfortable the pew was and finally get some sleep. At length, giving up on the idea of sleep, she sat upright and irritably snapped, "What? What is so damn' important that you two have to keep…" and then trailed off in embarrassed silence as she saw that Jen was talking to a State Trooper, and then realised that the howl and rush of the wind past the building had faded to near silence.

"Oh… is it over?" she faltered.

"Yes, ma'am," the Trooper replied with a sympathetic smile. "I was just explaining to this lady," he indicated Jen, "that the storm has passed, but a lot of roads are still blocked, and that telephone lines and cell 'phone towers all over the state are out. Right now, the only communications that are working are radios, and them only since the storm passed. What we're doing right now, is taking down the details of folks like you, all over the state, who've had to take shelter, so if anyone asks after you, then once we get the information back to Pittsburgh, we can let your kin-folks know that you're OK."

Jen nodded, her eyes shining with relief, "What about the roads to the north?" she asked, "We need to get to Bellville today."

"Well, I can't speak for everywhere ma'am, but the county people here have already got clearance crews out, dragging fallen trees and such off the roads. I'd say give it until full daylight, so you can see what's what and where it's at. If you run into a blocked road, then I figure you'll just have to sit it out. But like I say," he shrugged, "the county authority 'round here is already working on it, and I 'spect the other counties hereabouts will be doing the same thing. Power lines and 'phone lines may take a little longer, but if you get lucky, you might a cell 'phone tower that's come back on line. Might be worth giving your cell 'phone a try every twenty miles or so…"

Despite her tiredness and discomfort, Loren found a smile from somewhere, "Thank you, officer. I'm sorry for… well, I was such a bear!"

"Ma'am, I don't blame you, not with a little one with you. I got two of my own, and I know that if I were caught out on a night like with either of them, and to try and sleep on a church pew, I reckon I'd be just a little more than a touch grouchy myself!" With a final smile, he touched the brim of his hat, and turned to David Medwick, taking down his details to pass on as Medwick asked to the authorities at Andrews air base.

Medwick added his thanks to Loren and Jen's and when the Trooper moved on to the next party, he turned to them, "Are you sure you're doing the right thing heading on out?"

Loren stared at him suspiciously, "Why wouldn't we be? The storm's moving South, so if anyone needs to keep his six safely planted right here, it would be you!"

"Yes, ma'am, it would and it will be. I'm not planning to move until I've given that mother f… of all storms plenty of time to move on past DC. Hey," he suddenly grinned, "Do you think that if it hit Norfolk hard enough it might make some home improvements!"

Both Loren and Jen had sufficient knowledge of Norfolk Navy Yard, and how depressing the place could look that neither could resist a giggle.

"Could anything short of complete demolition make that place look any homier?" Loren suddenly and to her own surprise heard herself say, and added acerbically in attempt to recover ground she's thought she'd lost, "Well, could it?" And then she immediately turned her attention Alexandra, who for the moment was sleeping peacefully. 'Oh baby' she thought, 'what a little traitor you are! Just when I_ need_ you to start fretting, you just lie there!'

Loren had no idea what had prompted her to make her remark about Norfolk she certainly hadn't meant to engage that Lieutenant… Fishname, in any conversation, let alone allow herself to indulge in his whimsy, and now she didn't even have the excuse of needing to attend to Alexandra! In an attempt to cover her confusion, she turned back to Jen, "What time do you reckon we should be able to set out, again?"

Jen thought for a moment, "Sunrise is about oh six-thirty, isn't it _Tuna_?" she asked, with just the hint of a smile as she tried to draw the navy pilot back into the conversation, for no other reason than to yank Loren's chain. For some reason the blonde had decided to take against the aviator, and Jen was well aware that she had no real grounds to do so, other than a wilful recurrence of her previous prickly ways.

Tuna thought for a moment, "Yeah, oh six-thirty sounds about right…"

"So it should be full light by what… oh six-fifteen?"

"Yeah, should be."

"Well, then, Loren. Movement at oh six-fifteen hours!"

Loren glared at Jen, "Aye, aye ma'am!" and her scowl becoming deeper as Jen's only reaction was a hastily stifled laugh, as she looked around guiltily to see if they had disturbed anyone.

The remainder of the short time that remained before Jen wanted to be off was spent in securing Alexandra's necessaries, and again the rigging of improvised screens so that Loren could get some measure of privacy as she fed her daughter. This time, however, the church-provided blankets made the task much easier.

Finally ready to leave, Jen turned to _Tuna_, "Thank you very much for keeping us company Lieutenant, we are _both_ very grateful! And I'm sure harm will want to say thank you too!" She rummaged in her purse and came up with her notepad and a pen. She hastily scribbled their home telephone number on to a sheet of paper and tearing it off handed it to the surprised Lieutenant Medwick, with a wink. "Here, give us a call next week, and we'll arrange an evening for you to call round and take a bite of supper with us. I know Harm would love to catch up with you!"

Tuna smiled, "I'll do that, thank you, ma'am!"

Settling Alexandra into the car-seat was the work of on a few minutes, and Jen took the opportunity of those minutes while Loren was busy to inspect the damage to the near-side of the Lexus. 'It could have worse - a lot worse,' she told herself, and shrugged, there was, after all nothing she could do now to fix the damage, and there was nothing she could have done last night to avoid whatever it was that had hit the side of the car. There was a four-inch long dent in the door pillar, and about six inches of paint over and around the dent had been scraped away by whatever rough-edge object had hit them. Looking at the damage, Jen was inclined to think that it must have been a broken tree branch, and could only shudder in relief as she realised that a fraction of a second's difference would have sent the missile, whatever it had been, crashing through the side windows of the SUV and into either Loren or Alexandra. Fighting back the pang of nausea that realisation had provoked Jen resolved that those thoughts were something that she would never tell Loren.

Jen gave herself a mental shake and settled behind the wheel, "All set?" she asked Loren. Loren stayed silent. "I'll take that as a 'yes', then." Jen declared, and engaging the drive she rolled cautiously out of the shelter of the church's lee and back on to the highway. Although they had made an early start, they weren't the first of the stranded travelers to head out towards the North, and Jen found it somehow comforting that, despite the storm's passing, that they wouldn't be the only vehicle on the road.

They drove on in silence for a little way. Jen occasionally glancing sideways at Loren, who seemed strangely put out about something, although Jen had an idea what was bugging her friend. But what Jen couldn't figure out was why it was bugging Loren. However, before the atmosphere in the SUV became too tense, Loren twisted sideways ion her seat and demanded, "Jen, what did you think you were doing?"

"Doing, what, when?" Jen asked

"Encouraging that fish guy all night!"

Jen smiled, 'yep, I was right; somehow _Tuna_ is what's niggling her!'

"I wasn't encouraging anything, Loren, Jen objected, "I was just being polite to someone who is not only a friend of my husband and with whom I danced at my own wedding, but also who stepped in when he needn't have done so, to help preserve _your _privacy. Help, which I gotta say you weren't exactly grateful for!"

"Well… maybe not…" Loren agreed reluctantly, "but once we'd said thank you, he didn't need to keep hanging about…"

"No, he didn't," Jen agreed, "and he didn't need to get us cups of coffee, nor those blankets - but he did!"

"No…"

"Besides," Jen added with a wicked grin, "he was kinda cute!"

"Jen!" gasped a shocked Loren.

"What?" Jen demanded, "Hey, Loren, I'm married, not dead! I can still look! And anyway, I'm right aren't I? And you think he's kinda cute too, don't you!"

"No!" Loren denied emphatically, "He didn't do a thing for me!"

"Riiight!" Jen smirked.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

It was only Frank's solemn promise that he wouldn't stir from his post by the telephone and a strongly worded suggestion from Trish that finally persuaded Harm to leave the basement and go take a shower. On his return he found the other three adults now gathered next to the telephone extension in the family room, and apparently engaged in a heated discussion.

The situation seemed a trifle unbalanced to his critical eye as he paused in the doorway. Beth was sitting in an armchair, her hands gripping the end's chair's arms and her face set in what Harm could only describe to himself as a mulishly mutinous mask.

Harm propped himself against the door frame, and surveying the suddenly silent trio he raised an inquiring eyebrow, "So?" he asked.

Trish answered first, "We're trying to get this infuriating girl to admit that she's tired and go and get some rest!"

"And I've been trying to explain to your mom, that while it's nice that she wants to look after me, it's not really necessary, I've stood watches before - and you're an Academy graduate; you know how you get used to long hours and how little sleep you get there, so I'm used to losing a couple of hours here and there!"

Harm winced; that was one aspect of Annapolis life that he had managed to keep concealed from his mom and step-dad, and now Beth had let the cat out of the bag. He hoped that Trish was so wrapped up in her argument with Beth, that the reference might have gone unnoticed. That hope was soon dashed. Trish twisted in her seat to glare at her son, "And is going without sleep a regular occurrence at… that place?" she asked sarcastically.

"Mom, the Academy is the best university in the world." Harm tried to placate his parent, "And that makes it a tough course, so yes, sometimes Middies have to put in all nighters to keep their grades up. Just like other colleges - in fact," he continued with an air of discovery, "when a Middie puts in an all nighter, it's for study, it's not like some frat house keg party in a regular college, and probably far less often!"

"Harmon Rabb! Don't you dare try and pull the wool over my eyes!"

"Mom!" The word was a wail of indignant denial mixed with distress, "I'm not trying to fool you… Beth! Tell her!" he demanded.

"He's being honest… Trish, Middies do really pull less late nights and all nighters - for whatever reason - than most college kids!"

Trish continued to eye her son doubtfully for a moment longer, before she turned her stare on Beth, "Alright, then, but just because you _can _go without sleep, it doesn't mean that you _have_ to go without sleep, young lady! I still say you should go to bed!"

Beth turned to Frank in a bid for support, "Frank, please tell her that I'm fine. Look it's going to be a lovely day, and I know that you and Trish must have scads of things to do. Between us, Harm and I can keep an ear open for the 'phone… If what that State Trooper told us is true, they won't be restoring comms very quickly, so it only needs one of us at a time to listen for the 'phone…"

Frank and Trish exchanged glances and seemed to communicate with each other without the need for speech. "Well…" Trish said reluctantly, if you promise to rest…"

"Oh, I will. Umm… I know it's going to sound a… a bit off maybe, but would it be alright if I just rested on the deck?"

"Of course you can use the deck, dear. Just mind you don't get burned!" Fixing Beth with a cautionary glare, Trish then turned to Frank, "and darling, I really do need to get to the gallery for an hour or two… Harm, do you mind?"

"No… no… of course not, mom. There's no need for all of us to perch on the 'phone… like Beth says, it's like to be a while before we hear anything, anyway!"

Trish smiled her thanks for his understanding and flitted away to get ready to leave, and in a remarkably short time, they heard her cheery "'bye!" and the sound of the front door closing behind her.

Frank had returned to his home office in the basement leaving the two naval officers by themselves for a few minutes. Harm gave Beth a quasi-hard look, not unmixed with amusement as he asked "What the heck was all that about all nighters at the academy?"

"Ummm…I was just dropping chaff, Harm. I didn't mean for it to put you in your mom's sights!"

"H'mmm…" He continued to stare at her suspiciously for a few more seconds before he relaxed. "Had breakfast yet?"

"No…" Beth answered cautiously, "Why?"

"I'm offering to make it," he said, "Pancakes, coffee and OJ a specialty!"

"You don't have to spoil me…" Beth started to protest.

"No. I don't and I'm not." And for an instant his face clouded over, "But I do need to do something…"

Beth smiled her understanding and nodded, "OK, then. Thanks, pancakes would be great!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen's initial good humour had been whittled away by the frustrating nature of the drive up to Bellville. What should have taken no more than an hour and a half had turned out to take the best part of four hours. Twice Jen had had to take the SUV onto the verge to by-pass fallen trees and branches and three times they'd had to sit and wait in a tailback while road crews used power saws to cut up fallen forest giants in order to pull them out of the road with huge tractors. And then she'd had to stop and pull off the road to allow Loren to change and feed Alexandra

As a result of the strain she was feeling she had become snappy with Loren when on a couple of occasions the blonde tried to instigate a conversation. Recognising that circumstances were taking their toll on the usually sunny-natured Jen, Loren bit her tongue and resolutely fought down her almost instinctive desire to snap back.

Accordingly, when the SUV finally lurched to a halt in front of the farmhouse, Jen turned the ignition key and killed the engine, and then with a sigh of heartfelt relief let her head droop forward onto the steering wheel and sobbed.

The car however had barely stopped when the door to the farmhouse flew open and Sarah Rabb, hobbling as quickly as she could, hurried down the steps and across to the car, calling "Jen? Jen?"

Jen opened her teary eyes to see Gram's age-worn features twisted into an expression of deep concern and relieved worry, and hastily unsnapping her seat belt, she almost fell out of the car and into Sarah Rabb's arms.

"Oh… Grams!" she wept.

Sarah folded the younger woman into her arms and held her for a minute while Jen let her overwrought nerves find solace in her tears. But then sniffling, and trying to smile, she raised her head from Gram's shoulder and said, "Grams, my manners deserve to get me shot! Grams, please come and meet your Great Granddaughter, Alexandra, and her mom, Loren…"

Sarah Rabb drew herself up, and keeping one arm around Jen's waist, she let herself be walked around to the other side of the car, where Loren having given Jen time to greet Grams, had now slid out of the car and was busy unbuckling Alexandra from her car-seat. Feeling Grams' eyes on her, she turned and , still unassured by the repeated encouragement given her by Harm and Jen, offered a shy, uncertain smile, saying doubtfully, "Ma'am?"

Sarah Rabb looked at the blonde woman holding her baby in her arms and her face creased in a warm smile, "Welcome, my dear, welcome. He was right."

"Uh… I beg your pardon, ma'am?"

"That rascal Harmon; he said you were beautiful, and he was right!"


	34. When the Wind Blows

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 34  
>When the Wind Blows<strong>

Jen froze at Gram's words, 'Oh lord! I'd forgotten all about Harm saying that when he praised Loren to the skies!' she thought as she took a step forward to try and avert what, from the expression on Loren's face, she was pretty sure was coming. Loren's face had assumed the pinched expression that had been habitual with her before Alexandra's arrival.

"I'm sorry," she said coolly, "but would you mind repeating that?"

"Not at all, dear. When Harm visited with me last time, when he brought Jennifer to meet me," she clarified, "he told me all about you and Alexandra. He said that Alexandra was beautiful, just like her mother!"

"He did, did he?" Loren's eyes glinted with anger.

Sarah cocked her head to one said and the nodded decisively, "Yes, he did say that the both of you were beautiful. He also said that you were proud, and fierce, like an eagle, he also said that you were as prickly as a cactus and that if you were riled that you had a temper like a grizzly woken too soon from hibernation. And it seems that he was right about all of that too!"

Jen giggled, and then bit her knuckles to try and prevent the sound escaping, but she had been too slow. Loren's eyes turned towards her, "And just what is so damn funny, Jennifer Rabb?"

"Well, I was just trying to picture you as Harm described you," Jennifer said, still with the laughter in her voice, "like some sort of weird cross between an eagle a bear and a cactus! I was just trying to figure out whether you were a feathery bear and the spines grew at the end of your feathers, or if you were a furry eagle with a row of spines down your back!"

"Jen! This is not funny!" Loren exploded.

"Yes, it is dear." Sarah Rabb interrupted, "I can see where Harmon got his idea of you being an eagle," she added.

Her second sentence seemed to Loren to be such a non-sequitur that she was thrown off her stride and closed her mouth, which she had opened to hurl another verbal blast at Jen, and instead turned back towards Grams, "Pardon?" she asked blankly

"But why he should compare you to an eagle, I'm not sure." Sarah said severely. "He could have used any sort of bird, really; a hen, even, perhaps a wet one. Although why a wet hen should be mad, I don't know. But that's what people say. After all, what do I know?" she shrugged, "I've only been around chickens my whole life… But what I do know, is when I'm seeing a whole lot of unnecessary fuss and feathers over a sincerely meant compliment." She fixed Loren with her bright blue eyes, and suddenly it seemed to Loren that elderly lady was the eagle, and she was no more than a feather-brained goose.

Loren gulped, the feeling she was experiencing was an unusual one for her, and not one that she particularly enjoyed and she could feel the blood mount to her cheeks as Sarah Rabb continued to stare at her. Eventually, she mustered enough nerve to speak again, "Yes, ma'am. I… I… I'm sorry, ma'am. I shouldn't take my temper out on you…"

Sarah's face split into a familiar-looking smile, that clearly showed she was Harmon Rabb's relative and she said, "There, that wasn't so difficult was it? Now, come on indoors, and I'll make a pot of tea, and something to go with it. I've no doubt that you're as tired and strung out as Jen… Besides, I'm dying to see my Great-Granddaughter - if that's alright with her mom?"

Loren, now completely deflated, could only sigh and attempt a smile, "Yes, ma'am, if you please…?"

"Good… well come along inside, and we'll see about that tea…"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm had stretched out as much as possible, lying back in his chair with the 'phone on the occasional table within easy reach. He and Beth had breakfasted on the promised pancakes, washed down with copious draughts of coffee, but in the Californian warmth he was still having trouble keeping his eyes open.

A tentative "Harm?" roused him from his drowsiness and he opened his eyes to see Beth looking at him, a strange sort of half-embarrassed, half fearful, half yearning look on her face.

"What's up, Beth?"

"Umm… look I don't want to be insensitive or presumptuous… but would it be OK if I took a swim? I mean if you'd rather I didn't then I can take a walk down to the…"

"Whoa, there lady! I told you it was liberty hall here. There's no need for you just to sit around, waiting for your watch, if you want to swim, just go right ahead!"

"Thanks, I'll just go change… if you're really sure?"

"Yeah, of course I'm sure, go, go!"

With a grateful smile, Beth headed off down the hallway to return in a very few minutes wrapped in a bathrobe and carrying a change of clothes. With a nod of acknowledgement and thanks to Harm she walked out on the deck and dropping clothes, towel and bath robe onto one of the recliners she revealed a very severely cut one-piece swim suit, and then pulling a swim-cap onto her head, and without posing or posturing and with a look of intense concentration on her face she stepped up to the pool's edge, paused and pushed off in what Harm's opinion was a perfect racing start.

Smiling, he returned his attention to the local newspaper he had been sleepily browsing through as he waited for the 'phone to ring. Coming to the end of the news section, he sighed and tossed the paper to one side, inwardly debating whether or not to brew a fresh pot of coffee, when he realised that it must have been twenty or more minutes since Beth had dived into the pool - and that he hadn't seen or heard anything of her since.

Alarmed, he shot to his feet and rushed out on to the deck, half dreading that he'd have to dive in and pull her body out of the water, only to skid to a halt as he reached the pool to see the source of his worry racing halfway down the length of the pool in a fast, powerful and stylish Australian crawl stroke, then completing the lap she performed a flawless racing turn and headed back up the pool towards Harm, breathing, he noticed, to one side only, and that on every alternate stroke.

With a sigh of relief, he dragged a chair across the deck to where he could sit and watch her. Although he was a confident swimmer, he knew that he was watching an exhibition of talent, style and expertise that he would never in a million years be able to match and as always he thoroughly enjoyed watching somebody else demonstrate their mastery of a skill.

It was only about ten minutes later that Beth instead of turning at the end of a lap back up the pool towards him, reached out and touched the wall and let her feet drop to the bottom. Breathing heavily, but not as if she was winded, she pulled off her swim-cap and ducked her head under the surface and with a couple of lazy strokes swam to the side and pulled herself out of the water, twisting as she did, so that she ended up sitting on the edge of the pool with her feet still dangling in the water. She wrung most of the water out of her hair and turning to Harm asked, "Could you throw me that towel, please?"

Harm leaned over and grabbed the towel of the recliner and then wadding it up into a ball he tossed gently towards Beth, "That was quite some swim there. I didn't realise you were that serious about it. In fact you were out of sight and so quiet for so long that I got a bit worried, that's what brought me out…" He broke off suddenly as he heard the 'phone ringing in the family room. Beth heard it too and stopped rubbing her hair, "Go, go!" she yelled, but Harm was already on his feet and running towards the 'phone.

"Rabb!" he snapped as he picked up.

"_Hey_, Hammer_? This is Dave Medwick_, Tuna_. I hope you don't mind, but I got your number from Bud Roberts?"_

"Yeah, what is it, Tuna? Can you make it quick? I need to keep this line free!"

"_Oh. OK… It's just that I met Jen last night and…"_

"You saw Jen? When? Where? Was she…"

"_Power down, _Hammer_, she's fine. We were in a church on the US-522. There was a helluva storm and the Pennsylvania State Police had closed the road, and a local preacher opened his church at Burnt Cabins for us refugees. I met Jen and another girl, a Laurel someone or other; she had a baby with her… Anyway, we all spent the night in the church, and then this morning when the storm had passed, Jen and the other girl headed out up North to Bell… something or other. She'd said that you were in California, and that you'd be worried about her. I tried to call my folks in Pleasant Gap, but all the 'phone lines are down, and the cell towers seem to be out too, at least my provider's towers are! So, I figured that maybe Jen wouldn't be able to get through. So I spoke to Bud Roberts - well I spoke to his wife first - and they suggested I try this number, and I thought that I'd let you know that as at oh six thirty hours EST, Jen, Laurel and the baby were all fine and heading on up the 522!"_

Harm went weak at the knees as he listened to his old squadron-mate's voice, "Oh, thank God!" he breathed, and then pulling himself together sufficiently to answer, he said, "Thanks, _Tuna_. Jen was right. I was a bit worried. I owe you pal, big time!"

"_Nah, owe me for what? Just passing a message, pal, that's all."_

"It's a big message,_ Tuna_, and it's taken a load off my mind. Thanks again!"

"_No need. Hey, take care and I'll maybe see you down the trail someday!"_

"Yeah, thanks, buddy. 'bye'

Harm slowly put the 'phone back on its cradle, and supporting his elbows with his knees, he slumped forward and covered his face with his hands. Beth, who had been carefully watching him, feared the worst, and hastily wrapping herself in her bath robe came in from the deck, saying hesitantly, "Harm… is, everything…"

Harm looked up at her, revealing eyes that were more than just slightly moist, and Beth seeing the tears moved towards him, dropping to one knee beside his chair, "Oh, please, Harm, no…"

"No, no, it's alright Beth. That was a guy from my old squadron on the _Henry_, he bumped into Jen and Loren in a church last night. The police closed the roads, and a reverend opened his church. They were there all night. And as at oh six thirty this morning they were fine, and still heading on up to Belleville!"

Beth gathered her wits and sat back on the couch next to Harm's chair, and smiled saying simply, "Thank God."

"Yeah," Harm agreed with a wavering grin, "Or at least one of his servants!"

"Yeah," Beth confirmed, and then in an effort to dispel the suddenly intense atmosphere asked, "Do you think that there might be a chance of any more coffee?"

"I was thinking about that myself, just before you decided to do your Little Mermaid impression!" Harm joked, "Sure, I'll get it started."

Beth took advantage of his absence from the scene quickly to strip off her damp swim-suit and pull on the T-shirt and shorts she had carried out to the deck, and slipping her feet back into her flip-flops she re-joined him in the kitchen while they waited for the coffee-pot to fill.

"So, where did you learn to swim like that, Beth? It was an impressive display!"

"Not impressive enough, I'm afraid," Beth grimaced, "I blew the try-outs, so these days my competitive swimming is over, I just swim because I love it, and it's good exercise… as for where, I learned to swim, well, that would be back home in Florida. We always had a pool as kids, and we learned to swim just about the same time we learned to walk, and I used to spend almost every free minute I could in the water." Beth smiled at a memory, "You just said I did a Little Mermaid impression. Well, when I was a kid, my Dad used to call me that, and the Hans Christian Andersen story became my favourite, just because of the Little Mermaid."

Harm's brow furrowed as he fought to remember a story that had never really appealed him, his own reference had been to the Disney version of the story, "But… wasn't that a sad story… didn't she fail to find love and then die?"

"Yeah, she did in a way… but after she died she became a Spirit of the Air, and was able to fly…" Beth grinned a little self-consciously, "so I guess that explains Lieutenant Maartens," she finished with a shrug.

Harm nodded. "Seems to me," he added thoughtfully, "that the US Navy owes a debt of gratitude to Mr Andersen!"

Beth flushed slightly, "That's a bit extreme; I'd have probably joined the navy even without Mr Andersen's story."

"Well, maybe. But would you have flown?"

Beth laughed in honest amusement, "I guess we'll never know!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Umm… Grams, would you mind if I used the 'phone?" Jen asked almost the same second that she stepped through the door.

"You can try, Jen, but the last time I tried… oh… 'bout an hour ago it was still dead. I reck'n last night's breeze musta brung down a line or two along the way."

Jen stifled a giggle at Sarah's understatement, which she was positive was deliberate, as was the older woman's adoption of a rural dialect. Jen remembered clearly just how well spoken Harm's grandmother usually was, and guessed that this was one method she'd chosen to try to dispel the still somewhat stiff atmosphere that had been occasioned by Loren's taking offence at being called beautiful. But assumed rural accent or not, Sarah Rabb was right on target, there was still no 'phone connection, and as both Loren and Jen had tried their cell 'phones repeatedly all the way north, it was apparent that the local cell 'phone towers too were still pout of commission.

"Nothing?" queried Loren as Jen turned away from the 'phone with a disconsolate pout on her face.

"No… dead as nail! C'mon, you, you want to give me a hand get the car unloaded?"

"On your six!" grinned Loren.

"Well, sit you both down at the table, and I'll get the tea brewed" Sarah Rabb said once the performance of unloading the luggage from the Lexus had been completed, and the various bags and baggage stowed safely out of the way. "It's nothing special, mind," she reminded Jen and cautioned Loren, "just some stuff that my granddad dredged up out of Boston harbour! In the meantime you can tell me what happened so that you couldn't get here last night!"

"From Boston harbour? After the tea party, ma'am?" Loren asked with a sly look from under her lashes.

"Oh for the Lord's sake, child." Sarah chuckled, as she placed a platter of cookies on the table, "You get to choose what you call me - within limits - and 'ma'am' ain't within those limits! I may be old, but I don't feel old, and calling me 'ma'am' might just start to make me feel thataways! You choose whether you call me Sarah or Grams, I don't really mind which! And as for your cheek! Well, I may be making pretty old bones, and my granddaddy before me, but even he wasn't around at the time of the Boston tea Party!"

"Tell you what, Grams, you sit down and get to know Loren and Sasha, while I make the tea!" Jen suggested.

"Are you sure you know how, dear?"

"Yes, I know how, Grams… you showed me last time. Warm the pot, one teaspoon of tea per cup, so that's six for that pot, and one teaspoon for the pot, that's seven. And then, when the kettle's boiled, take the pot to the kettle and make sure the water is still boiling when I pour it into the pot. Simple!"

"Well, just you make sure you do it that way… I shall know by the taste, if you don't!" Sarah told her before turning to Loren, and nodding towards Alexandra asked, "May I hold her?"

Loren smiled, she was not only feeling a bit ashamed of her sense of humour failure outside, but she was beginning to warm to the older woman and was beginning also to understand why Jen spoke of her in such glowing terms. "Of course you may hold her… Grams… we brought her all the way up her especially so that you could meet her… Alexandra, this is Grams, she's your Great Grandmother, come and say hello," Loren lifted her daughter out of her porta-crib and offered her to Sarah.

Sarah Rabb took her Great Granddaughter in her arms for the first time and looked down into two deep blue eyes that seemed to be studying her with equal intensity. Sarah felt her breath catch in her throat and her vision suddenly blurred as tears flooded her eyes and ran unheeded down her cheeks.

"Jen!" Loren called in alarm and made ready to take her baby back in case the older woman let her slip.

Jen rushed to Sarah's side, "Grams? Are you…"

Sarah looked up her smile creating diversionary lines down which her tears now had to run, "Hush up, now, both of you. I'm fine, just so very, very, happy. That rascal grandson of mine was right again, she is beautiful, so very beautiful, and she has the Rabb eyes. I never met Sergei," she told Loren, her voice becoming firmer, "and after the way he's treated you, I don't believe I would care to. But Harm did say he had his father's eyes, and this little one seems to have inherited them too. But she has your golden hair, dear."

"Maybe," Loren said a little dubiously, "but Sergei has light brown, almost sandy-coloured hair, so she could end up like that…"

"Well, she could have bright purple hair, and tattoos and a pierced nose, and I'd still love her," Sarah smiled, holding out her little finger for Alexandra to make a grab for, "But you, well one of you, called her something strange?" she queried.

"Yes, Sasha," Loren said and explained, "It's a Russian unisex name for people called Alexandra or Alexander, and you know what kids are like, they're always shortening their names, so we thought if we got her used to being called Sasha, it might stop her wanting to be called Alex or Lexi, or some such name… Besides, even if Sergei did let us down… I don't want her to not know about her Russian heritage…"

Sarah nodded in understanding as Jen brought the tea-pot to the table, "I know, I know, let it steep!" she protested with a smile as she caught Sarah looking at her. Satisfied that her supervision of the tea-brewing process had done all it could to ensure a good brew, Sarah turned back to Loren, "It's going to be hard on the little one, growing up without her father…"

Loren looked Sarah straight in the eye and said firmly, "Better no father than a bad one."

Sarah was about to protest when she saw to her surprise that Jen had reached out, grasping Loren's wrist and said "Oh, you are so right…"

"Jen!" Sarah gasped, "Whatever do you mean, child? That's a terrible thing…"

"No, no it's not Grams," Jen denied, her own brown eyes now tearing up fast. "Let me tell you what happened on our way home from here last time. We stopped off at Hagerstown, to let my dad know that I was married…"

Jen told Sarah what had happened that evening, and recounted her father's words in detail, as best she could remember them, and they were engraved forever on her heart, and as she did so, Sarah's face went white with shock and then with anger.

"Oh, Jennifer, I'm so, so sorry… How could anyone…?"

"I don't know Grams," Jen replied with a defiant sniff, "But I do know one or two things, the first is that I shall never willingly speak to him again, and secondly that he will never be a part of my children's lives, and as long as I live they shall remain in blissful ignorance of a mean spirited, spiteful old bas.. Sorry Grams!"

"I should think so too!" Sarah answered, "But I wouldn't go so far as to say you were wrong!"

The three women exchanged smiles and Sarah allowed her attention to be distracted by Alexandra's squirming and gurgling, and her face lost the fierce hawk-like expression it had taken on as Jen had recounted her story and softened once more as she concentrated on the baby in her arms.

Loren, still not recovered from her chagrin over her first meeting with Sarah felt the last remnants of that emotion fade away as she took in the love and the immediate acceptance that her daughter had found in her Great Grandmother's heart and was so apparent in the lined face that smiled down at the infant.

Sarah looked up from her scrutiny of Alexandra and smiled, "By the way, dears, that was a nice attempt at putting me off, but you still haven't told me what happened to you to make you so late getting here?" Although the rising inflexion of her voice made her words into a question, neither Jen nor Loren were under the misapprehension that they had just been given a command.

So, with Jen taking up the main burden of the story, "Because Loren slept all the way from Hagerstown!" - a fact denied by Loren - the two young women recounted the story of their overnight adventure, careful to play down the fright they'd had and to emphasis the more comedic (in hindsight) episodes. "Including," Jen said with the mischief plain to see in her eyes, "the fact Loren's acquired a new beau!"

Loren blushed furiously, "I did no such thing Jennifer Rabb!" she denied furiously.

"Really?" Jen replied cynically. "What's the betting then that_ Tuna_ doesn't call the number I gave him by Tuesday evening!"

"That's just because you encouraged him!" Loren countered hotly.

"Well somebody had to! The way you treated him was shameful! But besides that, when he does come to dinner, the first thing he'll do is look around to see if you're there!" Jen laughed.

"He can look all he likes. I'm sure I'm completely indifferent. Besides, you were the one he said he was cute!"

"But you didn't exactly deny it." Jen reminded her with a smile.

Loren scowled at her in return and said, "I should have gotten you sixty days, not thirty!"

Sarah, had been enjoying the interaction between the two young women, easily seeing the depth of their affection for each other, chimed in at that point, "Sixty days, dear?"

"Yeah. Do you remember how Harm told you that when we first met, he was my defence counsel?"

"Of course I do dear… Oh" the penny dropped, and she looked towards Loren, "you mean_ you_ were the prosecutor?" she gasped.

"Yes I was! And you can have no idea, how much it grieves me to be related to a felon," Loren said piously, shooting a triumphant glance at Jen.

"It was a misdemeanor!" Jen protested laughing even harder.

Sarah sat back and smiled happily, whatever ill-feeling might have arisen on their arrival was now clearly long gone.

At length tea finished and the remains of the cookie platter returned to the jar, Sarah reluctantly allowed Alexandra to return to her mother and said, "I suppose I had best show you two where you're sleeping, and give you a chance to clean up and change. I guess that you slept in those outfits last night!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Attracted by the sound of Beth's laughter, Frank climbed the stairs from the basement, and entered the kitchen with a grin, "Sounds like someone's had their funny-bone nudged," he declared, and without waiting for an answer he said, "Oh, thank God! Is that real coffee?" and seeing Harm's nod of assent he grabbed a mug and lifted the coffee pot and then froze as a thought occurred to him, "Harm… is your mom home yet?"

"Not yet, Frank. It's safe to drink it!" and seeing Beth's puzzled frown, he explained, "Mom insists that Frank drinks decaf coffee only. Frank hates decaf, so whenever he can, he sneaks in the odd cup of real coffee, but if mom catches him, then there's hell to pay!"

"Yep, and Harm isn't beyond blackmailing me over my little indulgences from time to time," Frank complained in an aggrieved tone. "The boy's got no gratitude - when I think of all his dark little secrets…" Frank took a sip from his coffee and sighed with pleasure. Leaning back against the work surface behind him, he looked at the two naval officers in turn and his face becoming serious he asked, "Do I take it then that seeing as how you're laughing and joking that you've had good news from the Pennsylvania Police?"

"No," Harm said, the laughter fading from his face, "nothing from the police. But, it's proving to be a small world," he added, "The police closed the roads in eastern Pennsylvania last night, and herded everybody into shelters along the way. Seems there was a local preacher who opened his church, and Loren and Jen ended up spending the night there, along with a whole lot of other folk, including Dave Medwick, a pilot from the _Henry_, who was at our wedding. You might remember him they called him _Tuna_?" At Frank's shrug, Harm continued, "Anyway he sort of looked after them while they were there, and then when he got to an area with 'phone service, he got your number from Bud Roberts and called here to let us know… but we're still waiting for the police…"

"Don't be too hard on them son. From what that Sergeant said last night, they had maybe hundreds of people to account for, and with no communications working, it would take them a time, and then knowing how these office types work, Rabb is a long way down the alphabet... Did your friend say what Jen and Loren were going to do?"

Harm gave a bark of sardonic laughter, "Oh, yeah, they're still heading on up to Gram's place!"

"Have you tried to call her?" Frank wanted to know.

"Uh-huh, number still unavailable."

"Well, the girls probably tried too, and without any means of letting Grams know, they probably decided to go on up there to stop her from worrying too much."

Harm considered his step-father's words as both the older man and Beth watched him closely. Eventually with something very much akin to an expression of resignation on his face he shrugged his shoulders and nodded, "Yeah, I guess… But I just wish they'd found some way to call here…"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Having settled into their rooms Loren and Jen played a quick game of paper-scissors-rock to see who would get first turn in the bathroom. The entrance of triumphantly smiling Loren followed by a pouting Jen some twenty minutes later bore ample witness to the winner of that contest, but both settled down in Sarah's living room to talk to the older woman while she, true to her promise started to teach Jen how to ply knitting needles.

Loren was surprised that Jen wanted to learn to knit, and said, "Why on earth didn't you ever tell me? I would have been happy to give you a start!"

Jen turned accusatory eyes on the blonde, "You never said you could knit!"

"Well, you never asked, either!" Loren defended herself.

Sarah cocked her head on one side, "Can you knit, Loren?"

"Yeah, back to home, with a gaggle of girls in the family, it was one way of keeping down the cost of clothes. We had hand-me-downs, but a farming life is hard on clothes, and sometimes some of the clothes my elder sisters had never made it as far down the line to the youngest. So we knitted. Mom started teaching me, oh, when I was about seven, I guess…"

"So, you're from a big family, then Loren?" Sarah asked, her needles clicking at a furious rate, although she hardly seemed to pay attention to what her hands were doing.

"Yeah." The unpromising answer was enough for Sarah to concentrate on Loren for a moment or two, and it didn't take Jen's warning shake of the head for Sarah to realise that she was on the verge of treading on very thin ice. With a nod, she signified her content with Loren's flat, monosyllabic reply and returned her attention to her knitting and to Jen's lesson. She was unable however, to prevent a smile when Loren with a look of inquiry picked up a pair of needles and a ball of yarn.

As the light began to fade, Sarah sighed, and gently placed her hand over Jen's, "That's enough for this afternoon, dear. You have beautiful eyes, we don't want to strain them by trying to do fine work in this light!"

"Fine work? Jen laughed, holding up an unevenly sided rectangle of wool, "Just look at it! I've never seen such a mess in my life!"

"Well, I've shown you the basic stitches, Jen, all you need now is to learn how to keep an even tension on the wool, and that will only come with practice. Don't worry about that sampler, there, I can easily unpick it and re-use the wool. But in the meantime, if you two set the table for me in the kitchen, I'll I set about fixing dinner. It's only yesterday's re-heats, but a day-old stew is better they tell me that a fresh one!"

One day-old or not, the beef stew that Sarah set in front of her guests was more than welcome, and on top of a nearly sleepless night and a stressful day, it wasn't long after the two younger women had washed up the pots and dishes and tidied up the kitchen and then joined Sarah in the living room that first Jen and then Loren, who had also changed and fed Alexandra, were fighting to stay awake.

At last at about nine o'clock, Sarah put down the book on which she'd been trying to concentrate, and said, "Alright, that's it for you young ladies! Bed, now, the pair of you, get going and no arguing!"

"Of course, not Grams," Jen smiled, bending to kiss Sara good night, "I wouldn't dream of arguing with you! I'd far rather dream about Harm and…"

"Jennifer Rabb! That is entirely too much information, get to bed!" Sarah exclaimed in mock outrage, and then turned her piercing blue eyes on Loren, "And what about you, Loren, are you going to argue?"

"I wouldn't normally, I'd be a good little sailor and obey orders, but it seems… wrong… ungrateful to leave you down her all by yourself…"

"Hush, now child," Sarah said in a much more gentle tone, "the Lord love you for that, but I live here on my own 'most all of the year round, dear. I'll be fine. You go on and get some rest, because I won't believe you if you try and tell me that Alexandra won't wake you at least once during the night!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Finishing their coffee, Harm Frank and Beth passed away the rest of the day until Trish returned home in a three cornered backgammon contest, which Frank with years of playing the game behind him not only won but dominated from the start. Of course, as he shrewdly noted, Harm's mind wasn't entirely concentrating on the game, as his frequent impatient looks at the telephone were mute witnesses, and Beth was a novice at the game, only having started to play late on during her last deployment on the _Coral Sea_.

The game wound down at about three pm when Trish returned from downtown La Jolla, laden with parcels, and full of concern over the fate of Jen and Loren. Harm once again had to relate the story of Tuna's phone call, only interrupted at the mention of his call-sign, by Trish's exclamation, "Oh, I remember him! I danced with him at your wedding, Harm. He's a nice young man, with a wonderful sense of humour and a gorgeous smile. Is he still single, dear?" she asked her son, and then embarrassed both him and Beth by a not-so-subtle-nod in the direction of her son's temporary RIO, and then answered her son's pained complaint, with a wide-eyed and ingenuous, "What? What's wrong?"

Fortunately - probably for the sake of Harm and Beth's blushes, more than to save Trish from reprimand - the 'phone chose that moment to interrupt the conversation. Frank was the first to reach it and lifting it from the cradle he said crisply, "Burnett!"

Frank listened intently for a minute before he spoke again, "Thank you, Lieutenant. We are very much obliged to you and to your men. No, that's perfectly alright, yes, we understand; I said pretty much the same to my family earlier. Do you know if there are any later reports of any incidents on the road from there up to Belleville? No, no, I understand… When do you expect them to be back… Oh, not until Tuesday… Well, thank you again Lieutenant."

Frank put the 'phone down with a sigh of relief, and turned a beaming smile on his waiting audience. "That was the PA State Police, confirming your friend's message, Harm. Jen and Loren were fit and well this morning having stayed in a church overnight, and told the State troopers that they were continuing up to Belleville. And there are no reports of any vehicle involved incidents on that road, as far as the State Police are aware. The bad news is that although the phone company is working hard to get everything back on line, they have to wait for the power company in some areas to get the grid going again."

"But it is good news, isn't it Frank?" Trish sought reassurance.

"Yes, it is good news; very good news!" Frank replied.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Grams had been right, Loren was woken in the small quiet hours to attend to Alexandra's needs, but it was a routine to which the blonde officer had become accustomed and she soon had her daughter settled and was on the verge of sleep herself when she was jolted awake by the unmistakable sound of a shot, very loud and so very near. Blessing the thought that had made her pack pyjamas instead of a nightdress, Loren hastily pulled on a sweater and then from the bottom of her go-bag pulled out her S&W Sigma, and checking the magazine, shoved her feet into her moccasins and cautiously made her way downstairs, keeping to the shadows where possible. Seeing the front door ajar, she drew a deep breath and then on hearing movement on the porch she pulled the door open and spun through the doorway, levelling her pistol in the direction of the movement and yelling "Freeze!"

Sarah Rabb, turned her head in the direction of her visitor and said, "Hush child, you'll wake Jen and the baby!"

Loren stood open mouthed. Sarah Rabb was sitting in the old porch swing, dressed in flannel nightgown with woollen shawl around her shoulders, a blanket across her knees and covering her legs, and holding a still-faintly smoking twelve-gauge shotgun across her lap.

"Well don't stand there with your mouth open child, you'll catch no flies this time of night," she said acerbically.

"I… I heard a shot…" Loren stuttered.

"Yep, I been after an egg-stealing raccoon varmint! Been a-waiting for him these last four nights or more! I got him tonight, and I don't reckon, he'll be back in a hurry - eggs or no eggs!"

Loren scanned the yard between the house and the barn, "I don't understand… you got him… but… but there's no body? And he won't be back in a hurry… but…?" she gestured helplessly at the shotgun.

Sarah grinned wickedly, "Rock salt, honey. Stings 'em up plenty enough, but shouldn't do him any lasting damage!"

Loren laughed weakly and fearing that her legs wouldn't support her any more, she carefully uncocked her weapon and made it safe before she plumped down in the swing next to Sarah. "I thought there was trouble, she confessed sheepishly as she saw Sarah's raised eyebrows at the presence of the hand gun, "I thought maybe…"

"You thought mebbe them no-good Johnsons was a-comin' over the hill to get the last of the Rabbs?" Sarah asked in a serious voice, although she had adopted her exaggerated rural dialect again.

"Well, no… I don't know…" Loren floundered, "I mean, are there any Johnsons feuding with the Rabbs?"

"Of course, not!" Sarah's voice was cutting, "We 'sterminated the last of the Johnsons, oh, about thirty, maybe thirty-five years ago!"

Loren may have been half asleep a short while ago, but the cool of the night air and the scare she'd received had by now woken her up pretty thoroughly. She looked askance at Sarah, and said in a conversational tone, but with a smile on her face, "Has anyone ever told you that you are a wicked old woman?" she demanded.

"Oh, many a time and often!" Sarah acknowledged with a smile, "but it's getting kind of late, so how about you give an old woman a hand up off this seat, and we go and make some hot chocolate." Her voice lost its teasing edge, and she turned to Loren and said, "Actually, I'm glad you came down dear, I've been cudgelling my brain to find a way to have a private talk with you, if you don't mind?"

Although she would have liked to get back to bed, there was something in Sarah's voice, and her whole bearing that intrigued Loren. "OK, yeah, a hot chocolate sounds good right about now."

Loren followed Sarah into the kitchen and sat in silence while Sarah heated the milk and melted the chocolate in to it. Placing the two mugs on the table, Sarah smiled wryly, "No marshmallows, I'm afraid!"

Loren sipped appreciatively, "M'mm, when the chocolate is this good, it doesn't need marshmallows!"

They sat in silence for a while, until Sarah said, "Loren, please don't take offence at what I'm about to ask, but why did you record Alexandra's name as Rabb?"

"It was Trish's idea. She said that it didn't matter that Sergei's name was Zhukov, he was Harm senior's son, and so he was a Rabb, and that Alexandra deserved to have that name as his granddaughter."

Sarah nodded, "Yes, that's a fair argument, and one with which I have no quarrel. Had you thought how awkward it might be for Alexandra growing up with a different name to her mother? Other children can be very quick to pick up on anomalies like that and they can be very cruel."

"It's a cruel world out there, Sarah," Loren was non-committal.

"Yes, it can be, child, can't it? And you know that at first hand don't you?" At Loren's gasp of shock, Sarah reached a hand out to rest it gently on Loren's wrist. "No, dear, no-one's been telling tales out of school, except you. I could tell this evening when you stiffened up when I asked about your family. It's a long time since you've even thought of them as family isn't it?"

Loren nodded numbly.

"And is Singer their name? Their real name?"

Again Loren could only nod.

Sarah too nodded, but in her case in satisfaction that her suspicions had been upheld. "You got all fired up when I told you that Harm had said you were beautiful," she held up a hand as Loren made to interrupt, "But he also said that you were very smart, very ambitious, and a damn good lawyer, with the potential to become a great lawyer. He even confessed that at first he didn't even like you very much, but that despite an 'Ice Queen' front that once he started to get to know you he found that underneath you are really quite kind and loving, and I've seen that today with the way you are to Alexandra and even to Jen. You know, when you two were pinching at each other earlier, you sounded just like sisters, loving rivals!"

Sarah drew a deep breath, "I know I've only known you a few hours, and that we didn't exactly get off to a good start, and that this question is going to come as a shock to you. But would you consider giving up the name of a family to which you feel you no longer belong, and take the name of a family that has come to love you and want you to become a full member. Would you consider changing your name from Singer to Rabb?"


	35. We All Pull Together

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 35  
>We All Pull Together<strong>

Loren's jaw dropped open and she froze for a few seconds, and then as she felt the colour drain from her face, with a shaking hand, she carefully placed her mug on the table. "Wha.., what?" she stuttered.

Sarah smiled at her comfortingly, "Yes, I said it would shock you, but given that you haven't thought of your family as family for a while, would it be such a bad thing?"

"I… I don't know… I don't really know what to say… it would mean… It would feel like I'm giving up a part of my identity… a part of myself," Loren faltered.

Sarah nodded sagely, "There's a lot in what you just said there, child, but how old are you now? No, no… don't answer that, but it's my guess somewhere around thirty. Now, how old were you when you left home, the truth, now…?"

"Uh… seventeen…"

"H'mm, and have you had any contact with your family since?"

"No, ma'am…"

Sarah gave her a few seconds' worth of glare before saying, "What did I say about that word?"

Loren felt her lips tug upwards in the beginning of a smile, "Sorry, Sarah… but it just feels right to me…"

"H'mph!" Sarah snorted, and then continued, "Well, then, for almost half your life you've had no contact with your family. Now I don't know what happened to you back to home, and I don't really want to know the details. But I'd say you had a pretty unhappy childhood to cut all family ties. Now, after the way Sergei treated you, and I am sorry for that…"

"You have nothing to apologise for, Sarah," Loren interrupted her, "Sergei may be your grandson, but you had nothing to do with the way he was raised. Besides," she shrugged, "with the age difference between us, I don't think we could have made a go of any sort of a life together… but I do wish he hadn't run off and left Sasha… But, if there's one thing that my… getting to know your family has taught me, it takes more than just DNA to be a parent, or a grandparent…"

"What on earth do you mean, child?"

"Well, Trish was the prime mover in getting me to accept the Burnett family's help, but once I was with them, it was Frank who really made me feel part of the tribe… Oh, it wasn't that Trish didn't welcome me into the family, but it was Frank, who has no connection whatsoever with Alexandra, that stepped up as her Grandpa without hesitation, and although I've only known him a very short time, he welcomed me too, and acted more like a father to me than my own father ever did, and all without any fuss or feathers." Loren essayed a half-grin as she used Sarah's words from their first meeting against her.

Sarah too smiled; it seemed that Loren was just as bright and brave as she was beautiful.

Then Loren sighed and said, "But…"

Sarah nodded again, "Yes, but… there's always a but, isn't there? Now listen, don't try and give me an answer right here and now, not one way or the other. Just do as I asked you please, Loren, consider the question before you make up your mind."

Sarah gathered the two mugs and rinsed them under the faucet, before she walked around the table, and laying one hand on Loren's shoulder, she stooped and placed a gentle kiss on the younger woman's cheek, and with a soft "Good night, dear," she disappeared in the direction of her bedroom.

Loren sighed as she watched Sarah leave the kitchen, despite the lateness of the hour, she had a funny feeling that she wouldn't be getting much more sleep this night.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The afternoon and evening at the Burnett household had been one of relaxation and relief. Not that Tuna's report had been disbelieved, but confirmation - almost word for word - from the Pennsylvania State Police had provided much needed emotional comfort. Well, for a while anyway, before Harm had started pacing up and down, mumbling to himself.

"What on the Good Lord's earth is wrong with you now Harmon Rabb?" Trish demanded looking up from the backgammon board, where she had been trying - in the face of a barrage of counter advice from Frank - to give Beth some tips on the more advanced aspects of the game.

"Jen," he replied shortly, without breaking stride.

"For the Lord's sake, Harmon Rabb!" Trish expostulated, ignoring a frantically waved 'shut up!' signal from her loving husband, "Aren't two phone calls telling you that she's alright enough?"

"She won't be!" Harm muttered through gritted teeth, "When I get hold of her tomorrow… I'll… I'll…"

"Do absolutely nothing, except kiss her and hug her until her ribs squeak!" his exasperated mother interrupted him.

Harm shot his mother a look of disgust and wheeling away stalked out onto the deck. Frank rose as if to follow him, but this time it was Trish that waved him off. Turning to Beth with a smile she said, "I'm going to have to call a recess to our lesson, dear. Don't you go listening to anything that wicked old man," she shot a teasing glance at Frank, "tells you about playing this game! He's a shocking player you, but he just gets so damn' lucky at times! Now, that's you put in your place," she said complacently to Frank, "So all I have to do now is sort out that pig-headed son of mine!"

With a smile to both Beth and Frank, Trish scooped up a light sweater and swung it over shoulders as a counter-measure to the comparative chill of the evening air and walked out onto the deck. Looking around for her son she saw him at the far right hand corner of the deck at the far side and end of the pool. 'If that wasn't just typical of his perversity', she thought fondly as she navigated past the table, chairs and recliners until she arrived at his side as he stood leaning with his elbows on the wooden rail that surrounded the two open sides of the deck.

"Well, I'm waiting!"

Harm knew that tone too well to argue with it, and he didn't even have to ask for what his mother was waiting. In a choked voice he managed, "I'm sorry ma'am. I apologise for my ill-mannered behaviour."

"I should think so too!" Trish shot back at him, and then in a milder voice asked, "now, do you want to tell me what sort of bug just bit your butt?"

Harm turned to face her and in the last light of the sunset Trish could see his reddened eyes and the tear tracks on his face, "Oh, mom… I was just so scared… and then when I found out she… they were OK, I was so relieved, and then I just got so angry at her for scaring me… and…"

Trish's mind flashed back to Harm's sixteenth summer, when he had somehow managed to get himself to Vietnam without a word to her or Frank, and the terror she had endured while he was gone, and the relief and the anger - no, the fury - with which she reacted when he had been brought home in nearly one piece. For a split second it was on the tip of her tongue to tell that now he knew how she had felt. It was an impulse she stifled immediately, the careless teenager her son had been had turned into a man all too ready to accept guilt, even where none was merited, and to re-open that old wound now would be unspeakably cruel. Instead she opened her arms to him and said, "I know, Harm… I know…"

Harm took his mother into his arms and bent his head until it rested on hers, "Oh God, mom, I was so damn' scared…"

Trish could feel his body shudder and hear his gasps for breath as she held and comforted her son.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

It was a calmer, more settled Harm who, freshly showered, rejoined Frank, Trish and Beth in the family room just prior to dinner. He managed a rather shame-faced grin and mumbled, "Uh… folks, I'm sorry about tearing off like that… I just needed a few moments…"

The other three accepted his remarks without comment, Frank moving to the sideboard and asking who wanted what as an aperitif, before handing the drinks around. Re-taking his seat, he quirked an eyebrow at Harm, "I've tried calling Grams again, but the lines must still be down, and there's still no answer on either of the girls' cell 'phones, so I guess the towers must still be out too."

Harm nodded, "Yeah well, the police did say it could be Tuesday before the lines were back… as for the towers?" he shrugged, "Who knows?"

Conversation at the dinner table was general until Trish and Harm cleared away the remains of the first course and returned to the table with a large bowl of fresh fruit salad and an almost equally large bowl of natural yoghurt, and as Trish dished up the dessert, Frank turned towards Harm and asked, "What's your programme for the morning?"

Relieved that the conversation didn't appear to be returning to the nightmare topic of Jen and Loren's trip to Belleville, Harm dabbed his lips with a napkin and answered, "Well, Beth and I are under orders to report to Air Movements at ten hundred hours. I understand it's a C-17," he grimaced at Beth, who shrugged her shoulders in reply as Harm continued, "So, I guess I'll call for a cab to pick us up at oh nine hundred, just to be on the safe side."

"No need for that, son," Frank told him. "Your mom and I had planned to go out for lunch tomorrow in any case, so we'll drop you off at Miramar on our way."

"Frank… you don't have to do that," Harm objected, looking at Beth for support.

"Harm's right Mr Burn... uh… Frank, I'm a big girl, I can make sure we get there on time…" she added with a teasing glance at Harm.

"You see?" Trish chimed in triumphantly, "Your reputation precedes you!"

"Reputation? What reputation?" Harm demanded indignantly, his outburst nearly drowning out Beth's question.

"What reputation would that be… uh… Trish?"

Trish sat back and smiled to her left at Harm, before turning towards Beth and tilting her head slightly to one side, "Well, being the stubborn, unreasonable type that he is, Harmon was nearly three days late in making his debut to the world. And according to all the friends he's ever had, he seems to have studied making an art out of unpunctuality," she smiled, "Unless of course, it's something to do with his Navy career, and then I'm given understand he's only ever a minute or so late!" she added darkly.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Loren had been right in her supposition that she wouldn't be getting much sleep. She kept replaying her conversation with Sarah Rabb time and time again. All of what the older woman had guessed and said was true. Loren had had no contact with her family since she'd left Berlin, Ohio. And by her own admission, Trish and Frank had treated her more as a daughter than she had been treated at ho... no, in Ohio, and Jen... Jen on whom she had never even wasted... spent the slightest hint of politeness had welcomed her as a sister, and had treated Loren with far more affection than she had ever received from her real sisters, and who obviously loved Alexandra. Even Harm, who despite his encouragement of her professionally had never treated her with more than surface politeness had turned around that day in the car and said he wished she was his sister-in-law - well not in quite so many words - but still...

Loren slipped in and out of a restless doze, still wrestling with the question. Yes, all she had thought about was true, but she was still a Singer... True she would happily change her name for the man she loved and married - if she could ever find one, but where would she find the kind of man she wanted, who would happily accept a thirty-something single mother, with all the emotional and financial baggage that simple description entailed? But until then she was, and had thought she would remain, a Singer.

Sure, it didn't sound like much a sacrifice to repay the family that had taken her in, almost adopted her, and provided a better home for Alexandra than she could have managed on her own. In fact, if she had been lucky enough to find family like that while she was still a minor she'd probably have been more than happy to let them adopt her, and if she had been adopted, then she would have taken their name without a second thought... so why did it seem such a problem now? Was it really a fear of losing her identity that made it seem so difficult, or was it just stubborn pride? Loren punched her pillow with far more force than was strictly necessary and closed her eyes again, hoping to catch another hour's sleep before Alexandra woke and made her demands known.

Barely had her eyes shut when they flew open again! Was this really Sarah Rabb's idea alone, or had Harm or Trish also had a hand in it? If that was the case then the answer was going to be a definite no! She was tired of being manipulated by the Rabbs! If this was some sort of plot they'd cooked up, then by God they'd cooked their own damn' goose!

Satisfied at having come to one conclusion, Loren sighed sleepily, turned over in bed and closed her eyes again.

It didn't seem more than a few minutes however before she was dragged back to consciousness as Alexandra started to wake to her normal accompaniment of cries of discomfort and hunger. Groaning with tiredness, Loren dragged herself out of bed and lifted her red-faced daughter from her porta-crib, and slinging the diaper bag over her shoulder, she jog-walked her baby to the bathroom, "Shush, shush, shushing" to her as they took the few steps along the hallway.

Laying the changing mat on top of the old-fashioned dresser, Loren quickly removed Alexandra's soiled diaper and cleaned her off, but even relieving her baby of this discomfort failed to put an end to Alexandra's wails, so laying mat and baby on the floor she ran a couple of inches of tepid water into the bath, and satisfied that the water was neither too hot or too cold, she laid the still crying child in the water and gently, using her cupped hand ladled the water over the squirming body.

Alexandra usually loved her bath, her normal reaction was to gurgle with happiness and wave her arms and kick, ensuring thereby that Loren was almost as soaked as she was, but today, it seemed that nothing pleased Alexandra and her cries far from diminishing seemed to increase in volume. Loren, tired by two nights of broken sleep wasn't far from crying, herself, when the door to the bathroom flew open and a white-faced Jen, frantically trying to thread her hair into a scrunchie held pony-tail almost threw herself across the bathroom to fall on her knees in front of the toilet and with a succession of heaves emptied her stomach of its contents, slumping into a sitting position with her back to the wall and staring ruefully at Loren who was now slumped with her back against the bath and holding a towel-wrapped and still-fretting Alexandra.

It was Jen that broke the silence, "You look like crap," she told Loren bluntly.

Loren managed a tired half-smile, "Right back at you. This being going on long?" she asked nodding at the toilet.

"About a week," Jen admitted climbing to her feet and flushing away the evidence before turning to extend a hand to Loren.

Loren scrambled to her feet and batted Jen's hand away with an admonishing, "Jen! What are you thinking! Harm would kill you if he saw that!"

"Well it's damn' good job he didn't see it then!" Jen asserted angrily. "If he didn't want me to act like a healthy girl then he shouldn't have damn' well knocked me up in the first place!"

Loren looked at Jen more closely, the younger woman seemed tense, her face was still pale, and her fists were clenched by her side. Loren sat on the edge of the bath, and opening her pyjama jacket she offered her breast to Alexandra, who at first fussed and seemed disinclined to take the nipple, but finally succumbing to hunger, rooted and started feeding. Battling her own tiredness-induced short-temper, Loren made an effort to speak softly, "What's wrong, Jen? This isn't you."

"I'm fine! Thank you." Jen snapped.

"No, Jen, no you're not, something's wrong, you don't normally act like me. What's wrong?"

Jen couldn't help a snort, "Loren, even you don't act like you!"

"So, tell me, Jen, please?"

Jen seemed to deflate as she leaned back against the dresser, "Bad night? Bad dreams? Hating feeling like this. The damage to Harm's car, the storm, being scared shitless and trying not to show it. Knowing that Harm's going to be worrying about us and not being able to tell him we're OK, even just missing him in bed with me and not waking up next to him...Oh, I don't know, Loren, it's nothing and everything," she finished with a helpless shrug.

Loren nodded, "OK, why don't you finish up in here, and then when you're ready, you can come and let Sasha spend some quality time with you while I take a shower, and then we'll find you some crackers and see if Grams has got any ginger ale."

"Crackers and ginger ale? What...?"

"It'll help settle your stomach," Loren assured her.

"Yuh think?"

"Hey, it worked for me!" Loren grinned at Jen as she shifted Alexandra to her other breast.

"Well, it's worth giving it a try, I s'pose..." Jen finally conceded.

By the time Loren, in her turn, stepped out of the shower and returned to her room to dress, Alexandra had worked her magic on Jen who sat on the end of Loren's bed holding the now contentedly gurgling baby in her arms and smiling gently down at her. Loren pretended no more than casual disinterest as she plied her hair-dryer, "Has she been good?"

"Yes," Jen smiled, "a perfect little angel."

"Huh! You wouldn't have said that if you'd walked - oh, sorry- erupted into the bathroom five minutes earlier than you did! Anything further from angelic would have been difficult to find!" Loren replied with a wry grin as she sat on the bed next to Jen, pulling her hairbrush through her blonde tresses as she continued to dry her hair.

"Oh..." Jen's voice filled with surprise, "look, she's falling asleep... but she's only just woken up!"

"Oh, don't you believe it!" Loren grinned, "The little monster's been awake for ages! But she often does that while I'm dressing..." A sudden thought occurred to her, and she fell silent while she looked at Alexandra, and then with an air of a great scientist carrying out an experiment, she switched off the hair dryer. In a very few seconds Alexandra's eyes opened and she signified her opinion of her changed circumstances by blowing a huge bubble and screwing up her face in preparation for bursting into tears. Both Jen and Loren grinned, and then Loren quite deliberately switched on the hair dryer again. Within a minute Alexandra had yawned and her eyes had started to close.

Jen and Loren looked in wonder at Alexandra and then at the hair dryer and then back at the baby. "Well, that certainly saves on lullabies!" Loren exclaimed.

"I wonder if that works on all babies?" Jen mused, "Maybe we should call Harriett Simms and ask her?"

"What? Harriett Roberts is the fount of all wisdom when it comes to babies?" Loren asked acerbically, and then her voice changed, "No, we can't remind her..."

"No! Of course not, it would be too cruel... Oh God, Loren, what if..." Jen's hand fluttered towards her stomach.

Loren gently took the sleeping Alexandra from Jen's arms and laid her carefully in the centre of the bed before turning back to the white-faced and trembling brunette, then taking her in her arms, she rocked her gently back and forth, whispering all the while into her ear, "It's going to be fine, Jen. You and your baby are going to be fine. Hush now, sweetheart, everything's going to be OK, you'll see. You're going to have a beautiful, perfect little daughter." Loren was perfectly aware of Jen's conviction that she was carrying a girl under her heart.

Jen sniffled for a few minutes and then eased free of Loren's hold, dabbing at her eyes and trying to smile, "I'm sorry, Loren, I didn't mean to dump on you. It's just that ..."

"Yes, I know," Loren smiled, proffering a Kleenex, "It's a good job we haven't bothered with make-up this morning, you know, otherwise we'd both look a mess!"

Jen managed to giggle at that, "I'd best go and splash some cold water on my face, and then I'll meet you downstairs. God, I would kill for a real cup of coffee, but I suppose we'll have to make do."

"Yeah," Loren smiled, "but didn't that coffee in the church taste real good though?"

"Oh, yeah," Jen agreed with a happy sigh, "but remember what happens on the road stays on the road!"

"Of course, of course!"

"Yeah. And Loren," Jen's voice became grave again, as she waved a hand in the general direction of the bed, "Thank you"

"Hey that's what friends are for!" Loren replied, disclaiming any credit.

"Oh, no, Loren, you are so much more than that!" Jen said stopping half-in and half-out of the door.

Loren watched the door close behind Jen and wondered if there was a hidden significance in Jen's words. Was she part of a plot to persuade Loren to agree to Sarah's suggestion that she might want to change her name? There was only one way to really find out, and that was to take the bull by the horns. Placing the still sleeping Alexandra in the porta-crib, Loren made her way downstairs and into the kitchen, where her instincts told her Sarah Rabb would be. Her instincts had not led her astray; Sarah was seated at the table stirring eggs in a large brown earthenware bowl.

"Good morning Loren... Oh... I was just going to ask if you'd slept well, but by the looks of you that would be a pretty dumb question."

"Yeah, it would. You gave me a lot to think about, Sarah." Loren replied.

"Ah, so you did think about what I asked?"

"Yeah, I did. And in return, I have a couple of questions to ask you."

Sarah dipped her head in acquiescence "Go on, dear."

Loren took a breath, "Was this your idea, or were you put up to it by somebody else? And if it is your notion, have you discussed it with anyone else, Trish, Frank, Harm or even Jen?"

"Loren, I haven't mentioned this idea of mine to a single living soul, other than yourself."

Loren heaved a sigh of relief and mustered up a weak smile. "I am so glad to hear you say that," she confessed.

"Oh, why?"

"Because the Rabb-Burnett alliance seem to past masters in manoeuvering people into the most outrageous situations and then explaining why their solution to any given situation is by far and beyond the most reasonable, even if the most unconventional; and I was beginning to feel the urge to kick over the traces!" Loren explained.

Sarah smiled fondly at some of her memories, "Yes, that is definitely an axis of the unconventional," she agreed, and then looked inquiringly at Loren.

"Sarah, I need to speak with Harm and Trish about this... and if neither of them vetoes the idea, then, yes, I'll go through the process and legally change my name." She paused for a moment considering the likely reaction at Falls Church, and as she mentally reviewed the characters of her co-workers a smile spread across her face, which gradually broadened, until she burst out laughing.

Sarah eyed her critically during this episode until Loren had regained some of her composure. "What's so funny, Loren?"

"MacKenzie!" Loren gasped, "Oh, God, she'll have a cow! Oh, mind now," she said to Sarah in an apparent inconsequential aside, "Not a word to Jen, please?"

"Oh?"

"No, not a word, if you please. I don't want her to put any pressure on Harm, one way or another."

"Of course not, if that's what you want, dear," Sarah said, well satisfied with Loren's decision. "Now, did you want scrambled eggs or an omelette this morning?"

"Oh, eggs are fine, thank you, Sarah," Loren smiled.

Sarah again nodded in satisfaction, "Good, well there's some fine home-cured bacon to go with them, and I managed to pick a whole slew of mushrooms this morning while you and Jennifer were messin' about upstairs! Ah, and speak of the devil, good morning Jennifer, sleep well?"

"M'mm," Jennifer replied non-committally, "Well, at least until somebody decided to refight Gettysburg outside my bedroom window! What was it, a fox after the hens?"

"Nope, an egg-stealing raccoon varmint! I just tickled him up a mite with some rock salt. Did I wake you?"

"M'mm... mind now, I probably wouldn't have slept for much longer..."

Sarah's raised eyebrow was enough of a suggestion - or command- for Jen to continue, "Well, first off, it doesn't feel right being on my own at night... well, not any more, and then this young lady, keeps putting pressure on my bladder. Over the last ten days or so, it's been a rare night that I haven't had to go to the head at least twice!"

Sarah smiled, "I'm told it happens, from time to time to time. Now, how about breakfast?"

Jen blanched, "Oh... no... no thank you, not right now," she managed.

"Uh-huh, got you that way too now, has it? I remember not so very long ago somebody telling me, pretty smug too they were, that she was fine and didn't have a twinge of the morning sickness!"

"Uh, Sarah, would you have any crackers and ginger ale hidden away somewhere?" Loren asked.

"Bless you child! This is a farmhouse! Of course I have crackers, and I might have some ginger ale too. Let me have a look in the pantry!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm groaned as he woke. It had taken him the best part of the two days in La Jolla to adjust to the different time zone, now just as his body clock was getting used to life on the Pacific coast, he as headed clear across the continent back to DC. Suck it up sailor! He told himself, this was just one more of the joys of being in the military.

Mindful of the chance of encountering Beth in the hallway, he pulled on his robe and took the few steps to the bathroom, where showered and shaved, he packed his toilet gear and giving the bathroom a quick visual sweep he satisfied himself that he'd left none of his gear littering the bathroom, before he headed on back to his bedroom to dress and finish packing.

Now in his peanut butters he made his way to the kitchen to find Trish at the stove, "Toast, eggs and tomato, OK for you darling?" she asked as he sat at the breakfast bar.

"M'mm, yeah, please. That and coffee."

"Well you know here that is, Trish indicated the coffee jug. Help yourself!"

Pouring himself a mug of the mild brew that Trish preferred, Harm asked "Any sign of Beth, yet?"

"You just missed her," Trish told him as she set a plate in front of him, "she's just gone back to her room to put her hair up and get dressed. She's been for a swim, says she's like to keep in trim."

"Yeah I saw her yesterday while you were at the gallery, she's pretty good."

"Yes, so I noticed... ah, here she is our little Ariel!" Trish chirped merrily, failing to notice the grimace that passed over Beth's face as she, now also in peanut butters, entered the kitchen.

Taking advantage of Trish's temporary pre-occupation with the pan of eggs, Harm turned to Beth and murmured "I take it from your expression that 'Ariel' is a non-flier?"

"Damn straight!" she agreed with a wry grin, before she turned her attention to the bacon eggs and toast on her plate. "The one advantage of swimming each day is that it does burn off the calories!" she quipped.

"As does an early round of golf!" Frank agreed, walking up behind Trish and placing a kiss on the cheek she had turned towards him for that purpose. Frank grinned and grabbed a mug and then looking at Harm he asked wistfully, "I suppose it's too much to hope that you made some decent coffee, this morning?"

"Oh hush up now and never you mind complaining about my coffee, Frank Burnett. Sit down and eat your breakfast! We're all sat here waiting for you, and don't forget you volunteered to drive these two to Miramar!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

At Loren's insistence she and Jen cleared away the breakfast wreckage while Sarah spent those twenty or so minutes sitting in her armchair and gently rocking Alexandra in her arms. Alexandra woke during those minutes and Sarah waited for a hungry or dirty infant wail of protest but instead found the baby staring up at her with eyes that reminded her so much of her son and her grandson that she felt her own eyes fill with moisture. As they did Alexandra stretch a hand out towards her great grandmother, and although Sarah knew it was a totally random movement, just for a moment she entertained the conceit the baby in her arms was holding her hand out in a gesture of comfort.

When Loren and Jen joined them in Sarah's living room the two Sarah was still rocking Alexandra gently, but she lifted her head to smile at the two young women, and once again they could see the tear-tracks on her lined face. With her smile still in place, she looked at Loren and said "Thank you."

Jen sat on the couch, and took hold of Loren's hand, tugging on it gently until Loren started, as if woken up from a daydream, and smiled, sinking gracefully to sit next to the brunette. "I do believe that your daughter has conquered another heart," Jen murmured to Loren.

Loren smiled back, "As long as the heart belongs to family, she can break as many as she likes. But she's not going get the chance to break anybody else's heart." She lost her smile however as she added, "And I'll take damn' good care that nobody gets the chance to break hers!"

Sarah heard Loren's use of 'family', and felt her heart grow even warmer. This stranger with her fierce independence and tough but brittle exterior had touched her in a way that not even the gentle Jennifer had.

Jennifer grinned at Loren's fierce determination to protect Alexandra, and looking at the other woman asked, "Have you and Harm been conspiring?"

Loren looked at her in surprise, "No, why?"

"Well you sounded just like him for a moment. He swears that our daughter is going to go girls' only schools and colleges, and isn't going to be allowed to start dating until she's 30 - at least!"

Both Sarah and Loren laughed at Jen's comments, until she reddened, "It's not funny," she insisted, "the way he said it, I think he means it!"

Sarah chuckled as she answered, "Yes, dear, at the moment he does mean it, but do you have any doubt in your daughter's ability to totally wrap him around her little finger? The second she wants to go to a movie with a boy, she'll flutter her eyelashes and look at him with puppy-dog eyes, and he'll surrender."

"Do you think so?" Jen asked with a giggle.

Loren chimed in, "Of course he will! But then he'll have the boy come into the house so he can meet him, and explain in words of one syllable what is and what isn't acceptable behaviour - oh, and he'll probably be cleaning his sidearm while he does so!"

Jen laughed at the image that Loren had conjured up, and gasped out, "Oh God, yes! I can actually see him doing just that!"

Sarah agreed with a chuckle, "I'd say you just about got that right, dear!"

Jen nodded, "But the thing is, he'll be just as over-protective of Sasha too! Remember what I said at Trish and Frank's place, when you said he was going to be overbearing and pushy, and I said it was going to be worse than that?"

"Oh, Lord, yes! You said he was going to be a pain in the... neck!" Loren stumbled to a halt while Jen remembering precisely what she had said during that conversation on the Burnett's sun-deck, laughed mischievously, while Sarah although not privy to what had been said on that occasion, gathered from Loren's momentary hesitation that the version she had just heard had been censored, and contented herself with yet another chuckle and an admonishing finger waved impartially at both the younger women.

Sarah let the merriment die away, turning her attention back to Alexandra before she turned to Jen and Loren, "Now don't think for a moment that I'm trying to get rid of you, you are both welcome to stay as long as you like. But it would be good to know what your plans are."

Jen nodded, "Well, I have to be back on duty tomorrow morning, and I need to prepare a uniform... and I'm not really sure what time to expect Harm home... so I think if we leave early afternoon? I know it should only take about three and a half hours, but I don't know how clear the roads will be yet, and I do want to get home before dark..."

Loren nodded, "I've got interviews with a couple of child-minders tomorrow, and I don't want to be out too late on the roads with tonight, not with Sasha with us. The drive up played hell... uh... havoc... sorry Grams... with her routine, so I'd like to get back to normal as soon as... so, early afternoon works well for me, too."

Sarah nodded, "Yes, that's good for me too. I'll be going to the three o'clock service down in town, so I figure to leave at about half-past two! Now then young Jennifer, that pot of tea you brewed yesterday wasn't too bad, but you still need a bit of practice..."

"OK, Grams, I can take a hint... Coming, Loren?"

"No, I want a word or two with you young lady; so off you go Jen!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

Sarah waited until Jen was out of earshot and smiled wickedly, "Now, that'll give her something to think about rather than just fret about getting home before Harmon! Now, dear, tell me all about Alexandra, how big was she when she was born, and what did she weigh and, oh, everything..."


	36. Homeward Bound

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 36  
>Homeward Bound<strong>

"Now, you be sure and drive carefully, Jennifer Rabb!" Sarah warned her grandson's wife as Jen closed the cargo hatch on the Lexus.

"Oh, I will be absolutely careful, Grams," Jen smiled, "but I'm still not sure that the suspension is going to take the weight of everything you loaded us down with!"

"Oh, hush, now, child. A couple of sandwiches and a piece or two of pie, just to keep you fed on the road. It isn't much at all!"

"You are a wicked old woman," Jen told her, giving Sarah a hug and a kiss on the cheek, "and you're also a terrible liar! I swear I won't have to do any baking for at least a month!"

"Oh, you're the one telling fibs now, Jennifer! You told me the last time you visited with me that you don't bake, at all; you just buy in!"

"Oh, damn! I am so busted!" Jen admitted with a laugh and then stepped back to allow Loren and Alexandra to make their own farewells.

Sarah smiled as the blonde , cradling her daughter in the crook of her arm stepped in to give her an awkward one-armed hug, "Thank you, Grams," Loren smiled, although she had tears in her eyes, "Thank you for welcoming Alexandra into your family."

Sarah shook her head, what was it going to take to convince this young women that she, Sarah Rabb, welcomed her for herself and not just because she was Alexandra's mother. "Now, you listen to me young lady," she said in mock severe accents, "any welcome is for you just as much as for this little one here, and whether or not you do what we talked about, you remember that you are always welcome in my house. Do you understand me?"

Loren nodded, "Yes, ma'am. Uh… Grams."

"Good. Now let me kiss this one goodbye," Sarah added holding out her arms as Loren transferred Alexandra to her Great Grandmother's hands, the movement sufficient to upset the infant who started to grizzle.

"Now, now," Sarah crooned in gentle tones, "Just you hush up that nonsense, and you be a good girl for your mommy and auntie Jen." Whether it was the words, or just the tone of voice, the effect was instantaneous, the threatening tear storm dissipated and Alexandra blew a huge bubble and gurgled, her eyes seemingly locked on the bright blue eyes in the lined face looking down on her.

Sarah smiled and gently wiped the drool from Alexandra's face before she handed the infant back to Loren who turned and secured her daughter into the car seat and after a final hug with Sarah the two young women climbed into the Lexus and with Jen driving slowly and cautiously on the unpaved surface, headed off down the dirt road towards town and the highway to the South.

Sarah Rabb watched them go, and as her vision blurred, she dug into her pocket for her handkerchief, and dabbing at her eyes muttered, "They shouldn't drive so fast… kicking up all this damn dust!" before she turned and leaning on her cane walked across to her battered pick-up to drive to church for Sunday Meeting.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm leaned against the counter while he waited for the Air Force Corporal to process their travel orders, and grinned at his companion, "Well, Beth, it could be worse," Harm joked as he saw Beth's cheeks beginning to turn pink, although he did feel for her predicament.

"And just how do you figure that out, Hammer?" she snapped, already unsettled by the attention that she, as the only woman in the air transport section was attracting.

"We could have been travelling in service dress; you'd have been in a skirt." Harm explained not unsympathetically, although he had to admit he was deriving some amusement from Beth's embarrassment, "Just think about it, if you're feeling uncomfortable now, how do you think you'd be feeling with a hundred plus Jarheads leering at your legs?"

Beth winced, "Thanks, Hammer! I really needed that mental image!"

"Well we won't be here much longer, and we'll soon be rid of them!" he tried to console her.

The 'them' to whom Harm was referring were about a hundred and twenty Marines, all laden down with sea-bags, personal equipment, helmets and weapons.

"Uh, excuse me, sir, ma'am?" the Air Force Corporal interrupted them.

Harm turned back towards the younger man, a quizzical eyebrow raised, "Yes, Corporal?"

"Your orders check out, sir, you are cleared to board when the Loadmaster calls you forward.

"Thank you Corporal, which flight?"

The Corporal, who had overheard the two officers' conversation, seemed to have developed a sudden inability to look either Harm or Beth in the eye, "Uh, there's only the one flight out this morning, sir..." he admitted reluctantly.

Beth groaned and raised her eyes to the heavens, "And I suppose all these... Marines are on the same flight?"

"Uh... yes, ma'am."

"Perfect, just perfect!" Beth muttered between clenched teeth, and then as Harm barely managed to restrain a snort of laughter, she glared at him, "Something funny... sir?"

"No, nothing funny, at all Lieutenant," Harm snickered in reply, and then taking pity on her suggested, "Come on, Beth, I'll buy the coffees."

Beth grinned weakly and nodded her appreciation, "But that doesn't get you off the hook for enjoying all this!" she retorted, glaring at one obviously over-appreciative Marine.

"Oh, c'mon Beth, it's not without its funny side. Suck it up, sailor!"

Although the vending machine coffee may have been the usual low quality beverage, it did much to restore Beth's mood, although she wasn't quite prepared to forgive and forget, well, not just yet.

"You were much nicer when you were my driver!" Beth grumbled as she swallowed the last of the bitter brew, just as, and fortunately for the state of her temper, and composure, the C-17's Loadmaster picked up the microphone at the MCCP Desk and clicked the pressel switch twice before speaking, "We are now ready for you to board. Would Commander Rabb, Lieutenant Maartens and Captain Philips, please come forward and make yourself known."

Harm and Beth picked up their carry-on bags and walked towards the Air Force NCO, where they were joined by a Marine Corps Captain.

"Sirs, ma'am," the Loadmaster greeted them, "We're ready to board, so if you sir," indicating Harm, "and ma'am, go right ahead, right up to the front of the aircraft, and if you sir, can get your men ready to board, then we can get this show into the sky!"

Harm and Beth nodded their appreciation to the Loadmaster and walked across the stretch of asphalt and then on up the ramp into the cavernous interior of the giant transport aircraft, while behind them they could hear the Marine Corps captain calling for his First Sergeant to get the company saddled up and ready to move.

Taking their seats at the forward end of the C-17, Harm and Beth settled themselves as comfortably as they could on the palletised seats, Harm at least grateful that there were no other seats in front of him to cramp his long legs. Beth laid her head back and closed her eyes, but in response to Harm's, "You think you're going to sleep all the way from here to Andrews?"

She grinned wearily and answered, "Nope, this is my version of the ostrich sticking its head in the sand. If I can't see them ogling me, then I won't get ticked off with it!"

Although Beth's eyes were firmly closed Harm smiled in sympathy but as the noise of the Marines filing on board and seating themselves grew in intensity he felt compelled to add, "With all that racket going on, you're not fooling anyone, you know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, well... what can I say?" she shrugged with a half-grin.

The other seats in the row were quickly filled by the Marine Company Commander, his XO and platoon leaders. The Captain introduced himself as Mike Philips, and explained that his company, Bravo Company of the 1st/6th Marines were headed for Iraq, or as he described it, 'the sand box' as part of a reinforcement programme. Harm looked across at him, to his eyes the Captain hardly looked old enough to be in uniform while his platoon leaders two 1st Lieutenants and two 2nd Lieutenants looked absurdly young, as did he discovered, when he craned his neck to look around, a lot of the Marines sitting in rows behind him.

He was distracted from his thoughts as he became aware of a figure standing over him, and looking up he saw a young man in an Air Force flying suit embellished with aviators' wings and Captain's bars, "Commander Rabb?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"Good morning, Sir. I'm Captain Edwards, the second pilot, Major Andrews' respects, sir, and once we're airborne she would like to invite you to come up into the cockpit if you wish."

"My compliments to Major Andrews, and I'd like to accept her invitation on behalf of myself and my RIO, Lieutenant Maartens." Harm finished his sentence with an inflection that clearly said that if Beth wasn't included in the invitation, then he wouldn't accept it.

"Of course, sir," Edwards replied, "I'll come back and let you know when the Major's ready for you."

Harm nodded his acknowledgement as the Air Force pilot returned to the cockpit.

Eventually the uproar in the aircraft's hold subsided as the last the Marines took their seats and the last of the loose gear was tied down. The Loadmaster made a final walk round and at length satisfied, he powered the ramp closed and spoke briefly on the intercom. The engines, that had been quietly idling, increased revolutions and decibels and the lumbering airplane taxied to the runway before the pilot pushed the throttles wide open and the C17 rumbled down the runway at ever increasing speed until its wings generated sufficient lift for the airplane to haul itself off the ground and into the air.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen sighed with relief as she turned off the street and on to the gravelled area in front of the garage, "Just short of seventeen hundred, not bad, at all," she remarked to Loren.

"Not bad for you, maybe," Loren replied with a sigh of resignation, "but the little monster here slept practically all the way from when we hit the black-top in Belleville, and she's only just beginning to wake up now. She'll never sleep tonight!"

Jen winced, but not entirely in sympathy; a sleepless Alexandra tonight meant a tired and cranky Loren Singer tomorrow. And tomorrow's date on the calendar had a big red ring around it as a reminder that it was the day for interviewing the three child-minders that had survived Loren's first cut. Jen could only hope that by the time the women arrived in the evening that Loren had had the chance to rest, perhaps while Alexandra took her afternoon nap!

"OK, let's keep the disruption to a minimum then," Jen fumbled in her pocket and dredged out her house keys, "Take Sasha straight in to the living room while I make a start unloading everything that Gram's piled in here. I figure we can just load it all into the fridge and sort out what's what later. And while I'm doing that..." she tilted her head to one side and looked at Loren with puppy dog eyes, "you could perhaps put the kettle on to boil - I could cheerfully murder for a cup of tea!"

Loren chuckled, "Nice try, Mrs Rabb, you open up and let us in and then you put the kettle to boil while I carry the stuff in. If I let you unload the car, Harm would cheerfully murder _me_!"

"Loren, I'm only pregnant, I..."

"You won't break, I know. And before you say anything else, I was even more stubborn and pig-headed and independently minded that you are, than you could ever be... but Jen... there were times I wished I had someone to help out, yes, even with the little things..."

There was just enough of a hint of sadness, or regret in Loren's voice that it tugged at Jen's heart, and impulsively she leaned across and drew the blonde woman into a hug. "You know that you've got someone now, don't you? You've got two someones... me and Harm and it might just be..." Jen's voice took on a teasing note; "there might just be three someones..." she ended mysteriously.

Loren sat upright and stared across at Jen, "Who's the third?" she inquired with a baffled yet suspicious expression on her face.

"Why, that nice Lieutenant Medwick," Jen grinned.

"Jen!" Loren exploded, torn between indignation and amusement, "It's no such thing! He doesn't even know me and we barely exchanged more than a dozen words!"

"And whose fault is that?" Jen riposted, still with a grin on her face.

"Well, if he hadn't been so damn pushy..."

"Oh, Loren! What you mean is if you hadn't been so damn prickly! You never gave the poor man a chance!"

Loren glared at Jen and then said defensively, "Well, if he can't take a hint, it's hardly my fault! Besides, he did push himself on us!"

"Oh, Loren..." Jen sighed, "he was at my wedding reception. How was he to know whether I recognised him or not, and if I had recognised him and he hadn't offered to help us, what sort of an officer and gentleman would he have been?"

"Oh, God! That damn film is responsible for so much crap and so many misconceptions..."

Jen grinned even more broadly, "Nice try at deflection, counsellor! But... nope, not working!"

"There are times Jennifer Rabb," Loren pouted, as she swivelled around to get out of the Lexus, "When I hate you!"

"That may be true. But there are times when you love me too!" Jen countered.

"Assuming facts not in evidence!" Loren snapped back but with a grin on her own face.

"True, but facts, nevertheless!"

Loren breathed a silent sigh of relief, as she lifted Alexandra out of the car seat, despite Jen's recognition of her diversionary tactics, it seemed that they had worked after all!

Loren transferred Alexandra into her porta crib and carried her into the living room while Jen made a bee-line for the kitchen and lit the burner under the kettle, and by the time the kettle had boiled and the tea had been brewed - in accordance with Gram's method - Loren had unloaded the car, although apart from Loren and Jen's sea bags which lay at the foot of the stairs, the multitude of containers that contained Gram's baked goods were still piled high on the kitchen table. The two young women looked at heap and then at the tea-pot and almost in chorus decided aloud, "tea first!" and then looked at each other and giggled.

The tea poured they both headed for the living room where Alexandra was beginning to shows signs of waking, Loren sighed in resignation and nearly scalded her mouth as she took too big a sip of the too-hot tea, while her hands went almost of their own volition to her blouse buttons.

Jen watched in fascination as Loren placed Alexandra at her breast, and in response to the blonde's cocked eyebrow, she gestured with her tea-mug, "I can't help it, it never gets old, and I..."

"Yeah, I know," Loren replied softly, returning her full attention back to her daughter. Jen watched for a minute or so more and then at the prick of a guilty conscience she picked up the 'phone and dialled.

"_Burnett_."

"Frank, hi, it's Jen, do you know what time..."

"_Oh, thank God! Trish! It's Jen. Jen where are you? Are you alright? We've been going mad out here_!"

There was a click as Trish picked up the extension, "_Jen, darling, where have you been. We've been so worried about you_!"

Jen was taken aback as the two voices clashed with each other, "Oh, wow! Hold it, please people, I can only understand one of you at a time! What's happened? Is Harm alright? Why didn't you call?"

"_Oh Jen, darling._.." Trish's voice became clogged with tears, scaring Jen.

"Trish! What is it, what aren't you telling me? Frank? Please, you're frightening me?"

Loren who could only hear Jen's side of the conversation looked up, and seeing the arrested expression on her face felt a stab of fear and could feel her own face drain of colour, leaving her white and looking shaken.

Frank took up the reins of the conversation, his voice deliberately soothing, "_Nothing's wrong here, Jen. We've just been a bit worried about you, Loren and Sasha. Harm spoke to Grams on Friday evening, and you hadn't arrived at Belleville, then we got word of the storm, and we were concerned about you. We, or rather Harm, had a call from a guy called Tuner saying that he'd seen you Friday night and that you were OK and were continuing on to Gram's on Saturday. And we've been trying to call Gram since Friday, but all the lines are down_."

Jen swallowed to clear her throat before she asked, "But Harm's OK?"

"_He was worried, darling_," Trish cut in, "_we all were, and I'm afraid you're probably in for a bit of a scold when he gets home._" Jen heaved a sigh of relief and the colour returning to her cheeks, glanced across at the still-pale Loren, giving her a reassuring grin and a 'thumbs up' gesture. Loren took a breath and then relaxed back against the squabs of her armchair and transferred Alexandra to her other breast.

"That's why I was calling," Jen admitted, "To find out what time he left?"

"_He had to report to Miramar for ten o'clock this morning," _Frank said_, "He and his RIO were booked on a transport to Andrews, he reckoned to get home at about six o'clock this evening - our time, so that would be.._."

"Twenty-one hundred," Jen automatically calculated the time difference and translated Harm's ETA into military speak, sneaking a glance at her watch as she did so.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm pulled up the cuff of his flight suit and checked his watch, giving an exasperated sigh at the lack of speed with which the hands were circling its face.

"At a rough guess," Beth said, "I'd say it was only three minutes later than when you last checked, three minutes ago, and looking at your watch every two to three minutes doesn't make the time go any faster."

"Ha, very funny!" Harm responded but mentally acknowledged that his RIO was right. He had been obsessively checking his watch at ever more frequent intervals.

"It's just that I hate being a passenger, and I really hate not being able to see where I'm going!" he told her by way of explanation.

"Hey cool your jets, Harm. We're here; we can't go anywhere until we go wheels down, so we might as well make the best of it." Beth couldn't resist teasing him a bit, after all, she thought, it was only payback for his crack about her being lucky not to have to wear a skirt on this flight.

Before Harm could think a suitably crushing response to Beth's sally the two of them became aware of the shape of the second pilot looming over them. "Major Andrew's respects, sir, Lieutenant, but she suggests that you might like to visit the flight deck now?"

Harm nodded his appreciation and had his lap strap undone almost before Edwards had finished speaking. Turning to Beth, he raised an inquiring eyebrow, "Oh, yes," she said in answer to his silent question, "wild horses wouldn't keep me away!"

Making their way up the ladder to the flight deck they were welcomed by the airplane's captain, who introduced herself as Kendra Andrews.

"I figured that an aviator would be getting pretty bored just sitting back there," she grinned, "What do you fly?"

"Tomcats, normally" Harm replied.

"OK," Kendra Andrews drawled, "Well... this baby is a little bigger than an F-14, and maybe not quite so agile, but it does what it was designed for!" Major Andrews grinned and indicated two fold-up seats behind the pilot and second pilot's positions. "I invited you up so you could share the highlight of the flight," she announced. "We have an RV to make - we'll be refuelling from a KC-135 out of Tinker AFB. Thought you might like to see how the professionals do it."

"Flying boom?" Harm asked, his interest piqued.

"Yeah, delivers more gas and quicker than drogue and probe, and when you've got gas tanks the size of this bad girl's then speed in delivery is a good thing."

"Uh-huh, but isn't manoeuvring a bird this big into position a slow job?" Harm asked.

"It can be," Andrews admitted, "That's why we try to get it right first time every time!"

Harm nodded, he could see the sense in that, and as he and Andrews stopped talking he could hear that Captain Edwards was speaking on the radio. Finishing his conversation, he turned to his pilot, "He's at Angels three-five, forty miles ahead of us and on the same course, so all you have to do boss-lady is keep this thing straight and level and fly right on to his boom."

It wasn't many minutes before a speck in the sky ahead of them turned into the shape of the tanker aircraft, and the second pilot started to call the range and closing rate.

Although Harm had frequently disparaged the flying skills of Air Force pilots, especially those that fast jet pilots dismissed as 'bus drivers' he was forced to admit to himself that Major Kendra Andrews had skills - different skills maybe - that placed her in the top flight of fliers as with miniscule adjustments of the stick she guided her huge charge into position below and behind the tanker and then held it steady, allowing the tanker's boom operator to make the connection, and then with further tiny adjustments to the controls, she compensated for the constantly changing weight of her aircraft as the fuel gushed into its enormous tanks.

As the fuel tanks reached capacity and the tanker's boom was withdrawn, Kendra Andrews breathed a sigh of relief, "It's not quite as tricky as drogue and probe," she admitted, "But it still takes a bit of concentration!"

"More than a bit, Major," Harm agreed with a smile, "that was some pretty damn' good flying." He paused for thought for a few seconds, before his grin became broader, "Of course, if you ever tell anyone I said that, I shall deny it."

"Of course!" Kendra Andrews laughingly replied.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"So what happens now, Major?" Harm asked as he and Beth watched the marines deplane, noting that their baggage remained tied down on the pallets that occupied the rear third of the aircraft.

"Well, while the Jarheads are stretching their legs, and chowing down, we refuel, load 'em up again and then head out into the wide blue yonder. Ultimate destination: Iraqistan."

Harm nodded, "Well, good luck and clear skies, Major!"

Kendra Andrews drew herself up into the position of attention, "Thank you, sir!"

Harm adopted the same position, "No, thank you, Major." He waited for a couple of more seconds before turning and with Beth Maartens on his heels he headed or the Flight Operations building for his debrief.

The board was being run by a Lieutenant Commander he didn't recognise, but who introduced himself as Tom Findlay, and in answer to his query as to the whereabouts of Keeter or Skates, told Harm that they were still in Florida, there was nothing due in from Pensacola until the morning at the earliest, and they hadn't yet received the manifest, so although it was probable that Commander Keeter and Lieutenant Commander Hawkes were scheduled for that flight, he wasn't yet in a position to confirm their ETA.

Harm nodded his acknowledgement and then he and Beth produced the signed receipts for the F14 they had delivered to Miramar and left Ops, Harm escorting Beth on her way to the female BOQ, before he returned to the parking lot to find Jen's escort and head for Falls Church.

As they reached the door to the female BOQ, Harm turned towards his temporary RIO and extended a hand, "Beth, it was a pleasure flying with you," he told the young woman, "I'd be more than happy to have you as my back-seater at any time".

"Thank you, sir. The pleasure is mutual, sir, but the privilege was all mine."

Harm nodded and grinned, "Well, any time I'm flying, I'll let you know! Goodnight, Lieutenant!"

Beth snapped to attention, "Goodnight, sir!"

Harm waited until she closed the door behind her before turning away to look for the Escort. Throwing his sea-bag in the trunk, he seated himself in the old Ford before he fished his cell 'phone out of his pocket and scrolled down to the speed dial menu and called the first number on the display...

"_Rabb residence..."_

"Jen, sweetheart?"

"_Oh, Harm...!"_ Jen cried in a cross between a sob and a wail.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Harm asked in alarm.

"_No, nothing... I just missed you, and I'm just so happy to hear your voice again!" _Jen sobbed.

"Hey, hey, hey, power down, beautiful... if you're so happy, why are you crying?"

"_These are happy tears, stoopid!_" Jen sobbed, and this time Harm could hear the smile in her voice.

"Well, surprise, surprise, I'm on my way home. I'm at Andrews and I should be back in Falls Church in about..."

"_Forty-five minutes_," Jen sniffled, finishing his sentence for him.

"How...?"

"_Did I know?_" Jen asked with an audible gulp, "_Simple; as soon as I got in I called Frank and your mom to find out what time you left, and then did the math. Besides, I know how long it should take to get from Andrews to here. So just hurry up and get home... and drive carefully, OK? I love you_."

"Oh, not as much as I love you, sweetheart!" Harm grinned and closed the 'phone with a snap, before turning the key in the ignition and peeling out of the parking lot.

The forty minute drive back to Falls Church was sufficient to convince Harm that he and Jen really needed to talk about getting her a replacement car - among other things, and that Loren needed to replace the Miata might just make it easier to persuade Jen of the necessity of trading in the Escort.

The front door opened just as he pulled in alongside the Lexus and he had barely stepped out of the car when Jen's arms were around his neck, her body moulded against him and her mouth devouring his. Harm returned her kiss with interest until finally the need to breathe broke them apart.

"Wow," he murmured, as Jen buried her face in his shoulder, "If that's the sort of welcome home I get, maybe I should spend more weekends away from home!"

"Don't even think it about it, sailor!" Jen admonished him, "If I had my way, I'd never let you out of my sight again!"

"Yeah... but given the sort of welcome home I just got, what sort of incentive could you offer that would make me not want to repeat the experience?"

Jen reached up, and balancing herself with her finger-tips on his shoulders, she rose on tip-toes and kissed lightly, "That demonstration will have to wait until after lights out, sailor! In the meantime, there's pizza keeping warm in the oven, and Alexandra's waiting to say goodnight to her favourite uncle."

Harm kept his hands on her waist for a moment and looked at her levelly, "Nice try, Jen, but we need to talk, seriously. You just about scared me out of three years' growth!"

Jen dropped her eyes, "I'm sorry about that, Harm, really. But it wasn't totally our fault."

"No, I know it wasn't," he admitted as he dragged his sea-bag out of the trunk, but I was so scared when I couldn't get hold of you, and I was so mad at you!" he added as Jen closed the front door behind them.

Jen and Harm walked through into the living room, where Loren had put Alexandra back in her porta-crib, and standing, walked across the room to stop and hold both her hands out to him, "Welcome home, Harm," she said calmly, but carefully watching his reaction.

Harm took both her hands in his, "I am so glad to see you all in one piece!" he told her, as he released her hands and sank down onto the couch, snagging Jen around the waist as he did so and pulling her down onto his knee.

"We're just as glad to be home safely, too!" Loren declared, "Almost as glad to be home as we were to reach Grams' place on Saturday!"

"Grams, huh?" he questioned with a lift of an eyebrow, but then he felt the sense of relief that was still in her voice. "Was it that bad?"

Loren nodded, "I went through some bad weather when I was deployed on the _Tarawa_, but that was in the open sea, with nothing near us for hundreds of square miles, but that road... scared me" she admitted frankly.

"Why didn't you turn round, and come home?" he asked his face creased in honest puzzlement.

"Well..." Jen said uncomfortably, "the storm was moving north to south, so if we'd turned round, we'd have been travelling with it, and I thought it would be over quicker if we travelled through it..."

Harm nodded, yes, that did make sense, but Jen hadn't finished, "And then when we couldn't get any cell reception, we couldn't get hold of Grams to say we... we weren't coming, and I figured we'd be able to make it that evening, except that the State Troopers closed the roads, and besides..." she hesitated.

"Yes, go on..." he encouraged her

"I didn't want anyone to think that I might be afraid of a bit of bad weather," she finished lamely.

"Were you afraid?" he asked.

"Not really... there were one or two scary moments, like when the car was hit..."

"The car was hit?" Harm almost yelled.

"Sssh," Loren hissed, indicating the porta-crib, "I've only just got her back to sleep!"

"Sorry, Loren," Harm apologised, but continued to glower at Jen, "What do you mean the car was hit?"

"We were just driving - well, crawling along the road - and something, maybe a bit or broken branch or something else caught by the wind just knocked into the side of the car. It was a bit scary, but there's only some paint scraped..."

Harm looked at them both in turn, "H'mm..."

"It's true, Harm," Loren confirmed Jen's story, "it did give us a fright, but there's no major damage to the car, and none at all to us!"

Harm sat in thought for a moment or two. Given the circumstances he knew he would have done the same as Jen and Loren, it was just unfortunate that the same bad weather that had put them at risk had made it impossible for them to tell anyone that they were alright. By their own admission, they'd had a scare or two, and it might be that was enough to teach them a lesson.

He pulled Jen in a bit closer, and planted a soft kiss on the side of her neck before he let her pull back, "OK, you did what you thought was best. I wasn't there, so I shouldn't try and second-guess you! Now, did someone mention pizza in the oven?"

By mutual consent they move through to the kitchen where they split an extra-large roast vegetable pizza and a wheel of garlic bread between the three, and Jen and Loren brought Harm up to date with things in Bellville, while he, to an accompaniment of their somewhat shame-faced giggle explained the telephone watch that he Frank and Beth had shared on the Friday night.

Jen shook her head in mock-sorrow, "So you inveigled this poor Lieutenant to La Jolla under the pretext of being able to enjoy herself on the sun-deck only to make her stand watches! You ought to be nearly as ashamed of yourself as Loren!"

"Me?" Loren exclaimed indignantly, "What did I do?"

"Oh, Harm, you should have seen her!" Jen declared, her eyes dancing with laughter, "Poor David Medwick, she sighed, "It's a wonder that Loren didn't give him frostbite!"

"It was no such thing!" a furiously blushing Loren protested over Jen's laughter, "I was perfectly civil to him!"

"Yes, you were so civil that you nearly bit my head off when I gave him our number!" She turned to Harm, "He was very good to us, and looked after us all night in that church, so I told him to call sometime this week when he found out what his schedule was, and I said we'd invite him to dinner!"

"Yes, of course we must!" Harm enthused, "Did I ever tell you that he and I shared the same cabin on the _Henry_?"

"Can we please change the subject?" a still red-faced Loren interrupted.

"What, getting all embarrassed, Loren?" Jen teased her and then started to chant, "David and Loren sitting in a tree..."

"Jen! If you finish that, I _will_ kill you. And," she paused for emphasis, "there's not a court in the country would convict! And there is actually, something serious that I need to ask."

Harm and Jen exchanged looks and then turned their attention back to Loren. Jen reached out a hand to cover Loren's as it lay on the table.

"Go on, sweetheart," Jen encouraged her.

Loren nodded and drew a deep breath, "Saturday night, the shooting woke me up too... and I did go downstairs..."

"Shooting?" Harm interrupted his voice alive with worry.

"Ssh. Later!" Jen told him.

Loren smiled, "Thanks Jen. anyway, Grams and I had a bit of talk, and then..."

"Then what, Loren?" Harm encouraged her.

"Then she asked me if I would consider legally changing my name to Rabb," Loren finished with a rush of breath.

Harm blinked, "Wow!"

Jen sat looking, open-mouthed, between her husband and her friend, while the silence grew and Loren dropped her gaze to the table top while she drew aimless finger doodles on the surface and fretted silently.

"Wha..." Jen cleared her throat and tried a second time, "What did you say?"

"I... I said that I'd have to run it past Harm and Trish, and if they had no objections, then, yes, I'd change my name..."

Jen gasped and tears sprung to her eyes, she looked once at Harm and read his expression and then turned back to the blonde officer, "Oh, Loren, sweetheart," she choked out.

Harm silently stood and looked Loren, his face unreadable, but Jen could tell that he was fighting his emotions. He stood silently for a good few seconds before he knelt on one knee next to Loren's chair, and opening his arms, he said softly, "Loren, I would be proud, honoured and delighted if you saw fit to change your name to ours."

Loren looked at him through her own tear misted eyes, before she let herself slide forward into his embrace and bury her face against his chest.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Later in the dark, warm comfort of their bed, Jen raised her head from her husband's chest, "Are you sure you're alright with Loren changing her name?" she queried.

"No, I'm fine with it. Do you have a problem with her taking our name?"

Jen sighed, "No, I don't have a problem, and in a way I get it..."

"Oh?"

"Yeah... Loren had a crappy childhood - she told me a lot that first weekend in La Jolla - and, well I guess, she's fought so hard for so long and was so ruthless about it as Loren Singer, well, now that she's changed, she needs to be somebody else, you know? Like she's put the past behind her, and your - our - family have been so instrumental in effecting that change, and for perhaps the first time in her life, making her feel loved, and Frank and Trish and you have all told her, and shown her in so many different ways, that she's part of the family, that she now wants to be a part of the family..."

Harm considered Jen's words and smiled, "I knew when I married you that you were smart and beautiful, but where did you suddenly get to be so wise?"

Jen chuckled softly, "Psych 101, The Human Mind - the course I'm studying on line!"

"H'mm... well I'd rather study Physiology 101, hands-on, right now," Harm murmured suggestively as he slid the said hands under Jen's T-shirt.

"Right backatcha, Commander!" Jen replied eagerly as she raised herself above him and lowered her head for a kiss.


	37. Step Into My Parlour

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 37  
>Step into My Parlour<strong>

Harm shoved his chair back from his desk, linked his hands behind his head and stretched. He had been six-up and nose-down in the case-file on his desk for far too long, he decided. It was time, and past time, for a coffee. Securing the file in his desk drawer, he reflected on the pristine condition of his desk, it was hard to believe, but he was actually up to date with his case load - alright, there were some trifling reports that need his attention, but he'd get on to them just as soon as he'd spoken to prosecution counsel for this case - Captain Phillips, charged with wilfully or recklessly hazarding his vessel, an offence against Article 110 of the UCMJ, and potentially a capital charge. Phillips was the Captain of the _USS_ _Breed's Hill_, a Ticonderoga Class Cruiser, which had become stranded at the entrance of Plymouth Harbour, England. Phillips was alleged to have refused the services of a local pilot, declaring that he didn't "need any Godddamned Limey to teach me how to handle my own damn' ship!"

Harm had spent the best part of the last week reading and re-reading not only the statements from the bridge watch at the time leading up to the incident, but also the _Breed's Hill's_ signal log. The evidence was quite clear; Phillips had made not one, but two errors of judgement. He had refused the services of a pilot and had ordered the ships navigation officer to plot the entry to Plymouth Harbour using chart and compass and refused to allow the unfortunate Lieutenant Commander to make use of the GPS array to confirm the ship's position. Now, Phillips was blaming all and everybody for his lapses of judgement that had culminated in the embarrassing spectacle of a United States warship having to be towed off the Draystone Rocks by a civilian salvage tug.

As the defence attorney, Harm knew that he was in a no-win situation. Apart from the long-standing naval tradition that the Ship's captain was always responsible for the safe navigation of his vessel, the weight of evidence was overwhelmingly against Phillips, including statements from the Plymouth Harbour Authority, as well as notarized copies of their signals traffic log. Additionally, Phillips could also have faced British charges by entering a Pilot Controlled Area without having a qualified pilot on board, although the British authorities were content under the SOFA to allow the US Navy to handle the case in its entirety. No, Harm reflected, all he could realistically hope to do was hammer out a plea bargain with the prosecutor, and then try and persuade the stridently defiant Phillips to accept the bargain.

Getting up from his desk, Harm strolled along the edge of the bull-pen to the Ops galley, smiling as he saw Harriett Sims sitting with one of the new hands, a young Seaman, and instructing him in his duties. What struck him as amusing was her tone, the Seaman had obviously not quite grasped what he was supposed to be doing, and Harriett's voice as she explained his duties to him, probably not for the first time, sounded more like an exasperated mom than that of a navy Lieutenant! Harriett still needed all the support she could get as she in turn was forced to divide her attention between little AJ and Bud, whose confidence was fading as he waited to hear the results of the foot-dragging Medical Review Board which would decide whether or not he would be permitted to remain in the Navy.

Harm entered the galley just as Loren poured herself a cup of coffee, and looking over her shoulder and seeing Harm, she asked "Coffee?"

"Please," he replied, gratefully accepting the cup and cautiously taking a sip.

"It's OK," Loren smiled, "I made it! Not Tiner, nor the Colonel!"

"Nor the Colonel, what?" Mac asked in a cool voice as she too entered the galley.

Harm felt the temperature drop as the two women silently acknowledged each other's presence and hastily intervened, "Not the Colonel who made the coffee," he explained.

"Oh, damn… is that squid-wash?" Mac asked in almost pretended disgust.

"No, Mac, it's pretty good coffee," Harm replied, "Almost as good as I make it," he added with a sidelong glance at Loren, who immediately bristled and then caught the teasing gleam in his eye.

"Well, sir," she said in tones of offended dignity, "If you don't like my coffee, then perhaps I shouldn't make you any more - ever!"

Harm winced, Loren's jibe referred to Jen having banned coffee from the house as an anti-temptation measure, so the only coffee he could get at home was the one cup an evening that Loren allowed herself at the ranch house. Loren's threat to cut off that supply alarmed him.

"I… uh… didn't say it was _bad_ coffee Loren…"

"No, just that yours was better!" she scowled at him as she drained her cup and rinsed under the faucet. "Sir, ma'am, by your leave?" she requested as she passed them both on her way to the door.

"Thank God," Mac breathed as she busied herself at the coffee machine.

"Oh, give her a bit of a break, Mac," Harm requested.

Mac switched the machine on, and settled back to wait for her 'marine grade' coffee to brew, crossing her arms in front of her as she leaned back against the worktop. "Harm, I know I promised not to hate Jennifer, and I don't, honestly. But, you can't really expect me to start cosying up to the Wicked Witch of Washington..."

Harm sipped his coffee and nodded his head in acknowledgement, "No, Mac, I don't expect that… but… Loren has changed since Alexandra's birth… she's much less edgy and driven than she was. She's actually said that she's given up on her ambition and that she thinks being a good mom is now much more important than being the first female JAG…"

Mac gave him a level look, "Yeah, I've noticed that you've become very friendly with Lieutenant Witch..."

"Mac…" he interrupted, the note of warning clearly discernible even in that one word.

"Oh, no…" Mac protested, "I'm not implying any impropriety… it's just that I'm not certain that the leopard_ can_ change its spots, even granting that in this case it might want to. But what I was about to say was that anybody who doesn't know your somewhat unique situation might think they have grounds for suspecting something improper… I mean, I know she's only been back on duty since Monday, but you arrive together in the same car, you leave together… the relationship between you has changed so drastically from the way it was before she went on leave.. and now that Jen isn't here in the office…"

Harm put his cup down on the worktop and stiffened, and when he spoke, his voice had become equally stiff and cold, "Loren Singer is now the mother of my brother's child; of course our relationship has changed. She is also my next-door neighbour, who works in the same office as myself. It makes sense to car-pool, and if you think…"

"No! Not me Harm. You are too honourable and I know you far too well to think that you would ever betray your wife, with anyone!" Mac hesitated a few seconds, debating whether or not to alert her friend that although it had only been a few days, scuttlebutt had already kicked into overdrive, and unpleasant gossip was already being shared behind concealing hands and closed doors, but once again Harm's legal mind picked up on her choice of words and led him to beat her to the punch.

"Not you, h'mm?" he queried, "but somebody, or some people, do think that. Don't they?"

Mac didn't answer, but her silence spoke volumes.

"Who Mac? Who's spreading those sorts of filthy lies?"

"Harm, leave it, please," Mac asked him, "As Chief of Staff, I've already dealt with… with the offenders…, and if I tell you who they were, then you'll only go storming in, all guns blazing, and despite all, Harm, you are still my best friend and I really don't want to see you torpedoing your career over some stupid scuttlebutt!"

Harm continued to glower at her while he considered her words and then took a deep breath, finally nodding his acquiescence, "Ok, I'll leave it as you've left it… this time… but Mac, if I hear anyone repeating that sort of lie, I'll…"

"You'll come to me, or got to AJ, right?" Mac had heaved a silent sigh of relief as she'd seen his shoulders relax, taking it as a sign that the tension was leaving his body, but his last sentence only filled her with renewed anxiety, especially as he maintained his silence. Mac moved between Harm and the door, as she repeated herself, "Come to me, or go to AJ, please, Harm," she almost begged him.

Harm eyed her as she took position between him and the door, and smiled grimly, "And I suppose you are going to keep me in here until I say I won't take direct action?"

Mac grinned in return, "Well, you could always _try_ to get past me," she suggested lightly, in an attempt to divert some of Harm's displeasure.

"Huh, what makes you think I couldn't?" he challenged, but the smile was back in his eyes, and Mac breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh, you probably could," Mac smiled back, "but to do it, you and I know that you'd have to hurt me, and like I said, I know you too well, you just wouldn't… no, you couldn't do that!"

"Oh, damn! Busted" Harm said with a mock groan.

"Yep. But I on the other hand would have no such scruples! So... you're not getting out of here until you promise me that if you overhear any rumours concerning you and Singer, you won't take direct action!"

"Alright. I won't."

"Promise?" Mac challenged him.

"All right, I promise!" Harm said in the voice of a man goaded to his limit.

Mac smiled warmly, "Great! Because we know that you don't make promises you don't intend to keep!"

"H'mph!" Harm snorted, "I hate it when you use my own words against me!"

"Aw, bless, did I bruise your flyboy, ego?" Mac teased him as she turned to accompany him out of the galley.

"Not as much as I'm about to stomp all over yours, jarhead!" Harm returned with a grin.

"Oh, how?" Mac challenged him, her eyes sharpening in interest.

"I'm just about ready to wipe the floor with your marine green six in the Phillips' court-martial," Harm goaded her.

Mac laughed as she led the way into her office, indicating that Harm should take a seat, "Oh yeah? And what sort of magic rabbit are you going to pull out your hat this time, squid?"

"Oh, sure," Harm drawled, "like I'm going to tell you my tactics ahead of time, but I'm in a generous mood this morning, so if you come up with a reasonable offer, I'll take it to my client and see if we can work something out, and we'll save you the embarrassment of losing in court!"

Mac laughed again, "You have got to be kidding me flyboy! You wouldn't come anywhere near asking for a plea bargain if you thought you had a hope in hell of winning this case!" Recovering from her amusement, she eyed him seriously across her desk, "OK… I'll make an offer, considering this has the potential to be a capital case…"

"Oh come on, Mac, it's not like any judge would hand down the death penalty for this!"

"No, you're probably right, but it is on the books! So… let's say, dismissal from the service, loss of all pay, pension and benefits, and fifteen years confinement."

"Ouch! Mac! One year!"

"Harm, he put four hundred lives at risk! Ten years!"

"But there weren't even any injuries, let alone fatalities! Two years!"

"Five!"

Harm nodded, "OK, dismissal, loss of pay, pension and all benefits plus five years confinement?"

Mac nodded in turn and extended her hand, "Agreed!"

Harm took her hand and said, "OK, I'll take it to my client, and hope the hell he has the sense to take the plea. I'll get back to you as soon as I've spoken with him!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen paid for her lunch and carried her tray across to the table she was sharing with Petty Officer Personnelman Second Class Angela Hartmann. Angela was almost Jen's antithesis in appearance, both women were beautiful, but where Jen was of average height, Angela was tall, where Jen was rounded, Angela was slim, Jen was a brown-eyed brunette while Angela was a green-eyed blonde, Jen's hair, when unbound, hung way down her back, while Angela's was kept in a short bob, not unlike, Jen had reflected, the style sometimes adopted by Colonel MacKenzie. Physical differences apart, Jen and Angela were the only two married enlisted women in the department, and not unnaturally their interests differed from the single women's seemingly all-important preoccupation with fashion, grooming, appearance and dating.

Angela's eyes twinkled as she looked at Jen's lunch, "More rabbit food?" she quizzed her friend.

Jen sighed, "I don't really eat much meat," she confessed to her friend, "and with this young lady here on her way," she patted her just-beginning to round tummy, "I just think I ought to be eating even healthier, unlike some I could mention," she continued with a slight chuckle as she looked pointedly at the wedge of shepherd's pie on Angela's plate. "Although, I gotta say, that looks pretty good!"

Angela grinned unrepentantly, "What can I say? They have ground beef in one sort or other on the menu practically every day and this one of their better options. Even the inveterate carnivores know better than to tackle their meat lasagne, although I'm told that the veggie lasagne is pretty damn' good!"

Jen chuckled again as she loaded her fork with shaved carrot and lettuce, "It'd have to be better than pretty damn' good to come up to Harm's standards!"

Whatever Angela was about to reply was forestalled as a shadow fell over the table. Looking around Jen and Angela were about to stand as they saw the shadow belonged to a bespectacled Commander wearing the mill-rindes of a JAG, and whose sandy-coloured hair was beginning to thin.

"No, don't get up, ladies, I was just passing and thought I'd take a second to ask how you were settling in Legalman One?"

"It's going good, thank you, sir," Jen replied, barely restraining herself as Angela under the cover of the table, gave her a gentle kick.

"Good." The commander agreed, "I'm happy for you; after all it's such a change of pace from Falls Church."

"Yes, sir, quite different."

"H'mm… yes… it's not quite so… family-like here, is it?" he observed.

"No, sir," Jen replied, feeling uneasy, and that the man's questions and comments were not as innocuous as they sounded.

"Well, I'm sure you'll adjust," the officer commented, "but, we'll just have to see. Ladies." With a final nod of his head the officer made his way across the floor of the cafeteria and chose a seat at an unoccupied table.

Jen turned to Angela, "Ow!" she complained, "What was that kick for?"

Angela frowned, "Just a friendly warning, Jen. I don't like that man."

"Who is he? I don't think I've seen him before." Jen asked.

"Commander Lindsey, he's one of SecNav's legal advisors… he's been away on assignment, but Jen… he's got a bit of a bad rep with the enlisted women… and I think I've heard one or two junior officers having a gripe about him too."

"Oh?" Jen was no more than politely interested.

"Yeah, he has a habit of hitting on women junior in rank to himself, so just watch yourself round him, Jen."

"Angela, you shouldn't pass on scuttlebutt like that, besides I'm married."

"So am I Jen, but that didn't stop him trying! So, it's not exactly scuttlebutt!"

Jen looked at her friend open-mouthed, "But… but why hasn't someone reported him?"

"Because he's careful and sly… he never does or says anything where there might be any witnesses, so it would always be a case of his word against the woman's, and when it comes to a Commander and a Seaman or Petty Officer, who do you think the authorities are going to believe? And, anyway, apart from the fact that he's creepy, I get the feeling that if you cross him he could get physical, you know? And not in a nice way."

Jen put down her fork and looked at the remains of her lunch with a disgruntled look, "You know, Angela, between him and you, you've managed to put me off my lunch!" she complained

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm finished loading the last of the grocery sacks into the rear of the Lexus and turned to Loren, "All done now?"

"Ummm… not quite… I need to call at the courthouse, hopefully before it closes. Would you mind…?"

Harm looked at his watch, "No, I don't mind, but we're going to have to be pretty damn' quick. I wish you'd mentioned this before we went shopping."

"Yeah," Loren grimaced and shrugged in apology and then reached for the passenger door, "Sorry, 'bout that, but I didn't think we were going to get done so quickly. If it's a problem, I can wait until Monday?"

"No… I think we can make it… unless we get unlucky with the lights," Harm replied turning the key in the ignition and knocking the gear selector into 'Drive'.

Less than ten minutes later Loren hit the ground running as Harm stopped briefly opposite the Municipal Courthouse steps before moving away to find an open slot in the fast emptying parking lot, where securing the Lexus he strolled across to one of the benches that studded the stretch of lawn in front of the courthouse and which in turn separated the courthouse from the parking lot. He was not kept waiting long, a slightly bemused Loren exited the courthouse and having seen him from across the drive crossed to where he was seated and almost plumped down alongside him.

"Well?" He asked cocking an eyebrow.

"I can hardly believe it!" she exclaimed, "It's a simple, two page document that a child could complete. All I have to do is bring it back to the courthouse, pay the fee and wait."

"Umm… yeah… but you haven't actually said why you wanted to come here…"

"Oh!" Loren blushed, "It… it's to get the application to change my name," she said somewhat hesitantly.

"Ah." Harm sat in silence for a few seconds before he continued, "You do know that you can download that form from the net, don't you? Or you can even complete it on-line and just download a hard copy?"

Loren blushed even more, "Umm.. yeah.. I know there's a boiler-plate for Virginia out there in cyber-space, but when I looked there was the ordinary form, but also a special form for Fairfax County, which says it's no good in other counties, so I wanted to make sure that I used the right form, right from the get go. You know how red-tape-tied some of these damn bureaucrats get! And I wanted to make sure the information on the web-site was completely up to date."

Harm nodded, he still wasn't convinced by Loren's explanation, but hell, it was her decision, her life, her choice, and he wasn't about to tell her how to go about implementing it. Not just because he thought she might turn back into the pre-Alexandra Loren, but because she was a fully capable, reasoning, adult, intelligent young woman as well as a friend - a close friend now, he smiled inwardly - and one who deserved her friends' confidence in her judgement and their willingness to allow her freedom of choice.

Loren looked up at Harm, half expecting him to point out how much easier it would have been to make a 'phone call to the courthouse, get the information, and then complete the correct form on-line, but he surprised her by saying only, "OK, well, if you're done, then let's get the groceries home before the ice-cream melts. Trust me, you do not want to be anywhere in the same state if we let Jen's rocky road melt!"

"Well, yeah…" Loren half-agreed, "but it re-freezes."

"Look, Loren, you know that, and I know that, but Jen swears it isn't the same, even if it does re-freeze after it's once been melted." He sighed regretfully, "She never used to be this damned picky!"

Loren gave him a despairing sidelong look as he fished the Lexus fob out of his pocket and unlocked the doors by remote, "She never used to be pregnant, either!" she said dryly.

Harm stopped, stunned by the fact that he hadn't really incorporated that vital piece of information into his consideration of what he had considered to be Jen's aberrant behaviour.

He turned back towards Loren and said slowly, but with a wry grin, "No… she never used to be did she!" then his grin grew into what Jen had described as, and what Loren had no hesitation in identifying, his sappy smile.

"Oh… get in the car!" she scolded him, fighting to keep the smile off her own face, "It wasn't that difficult a job, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't unpleasant!"

"Loren!" Harm wailed in protest, going beetroot red to the very tips of his ears.

It was at least ten minutes before Harm's blushes finally faded and the Lexus was just turning into Annandale Road when he glanced across at Loren and growled, "You're getting too good at this teasing game!"

"Well, I had good teachers," Loren replied primly.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, Trish, Frank, Jen... oh… not forgetting Grams, of course, oh… and Skates!"

Harm knew when he was beaten and stayed silent until he pulled off the road and came to a halt beside Jen's Escort on the gravel standing in front of the garage and the two of them started unloading the groceries from the Lexus. Loren's arms were full, as were Harm's. but he had less distance to walk and almost without thinking, he made the offer, "Bring them in through the house, Loren, it'll cut off a bit of the walk!"

"Thanks," Loren puffed, as she tried to hold all three bags, "I'll take you up on that!"

They were intercepted at the door by Jen, who had arrived barely a few minutes before them and with the exception of her shoes which she had kicked off the second she got indoors, was still in uniform. Almost dragging Harm through the door, she barely waited until Loren was inside before she kicked the door shut as she looped her arms around Harm's neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

"H'mm… Now that's a welcome home, I could go really go for!" Harm smiled down at her, "but you took unfair advantage of me, I can't hug you back, when I'm loaded down with shopping!"

"Well, we'll just have to fix that, won't we?" Jen replied with a laugh.

The bags all dumped on the kitchen table, Harm 'fixed' the situation with a hug of his own and an equally enthusiastic kiss, while Loren watched and shook her head indulgently. "Will you two stop fooling around, please? I need to get this stuff down to the ranch house and take my daughter back, before Alison charges me for an extra shift!"

"Ok, OK," Harm said with a smile, "Sheesh! You wouldn't believe how much she's been nagging me Jen!"

"Nagging you?" Loren interrupted him indignantly.

"Yeah, but it's OK," he reassured her, "after all you did run interference for me in the produce section!"

"I did?" Loren asked in surprise, "How?"

"Oh… I think I'll let Jen tell you that later… you are stopping by after dinner, I take it?"

"Of course… but running what interference…"

Jen smiled as Harm and Loren's voices trailed away as they carried her groceries down the length of the yard to the ranch-house.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm returned to the house after saying hello to Alexandra to find that Jen had stowed away their groceries and had gone to change out of her uniform. She had also found time to collect the mail and had laid the three envelopes addressed to him on the kitchen table. Harm examined the envelopes, two from City Hall and one from the US Mail, Harm guessed the subject of the letters, and hoping for positive responses to the applications he had made, he slit open the first envelope just as Jen reappeared, dressed in a very old pair of Navy jogging bottoms now faded to a soft grey and his brand new, never-before-worn Naval Academy T-shirt, which almost hung off her shoulders and down to her knees.

"Jen! That's my new T-shirt!" he complained.

"You haven't quite got the grasp of the communal property thing, yet. Have you?" Jen asked him, her eyes alight with laughter, as she slid on to his lap and looped a loving arm around his neck

"Oh, I have, I have," he laughed, "you keep rubbing my nose in it. It's just that I have this huge problem whenever I try to imagine myself in any of your t-shirts!"

"H'mm… good point counselor!" Jen grinned, scrunching up her nose in pretended thought, "So… instead… how about I distinctly remember something about 'with all my worldly good I thee endow'?"

"Oh, dirty pool, ma'am!" Harm laughed and Jen knew she'd just acquired another t-shirt.

"Yep, she smiled, "and now, can we exchange the day's news?"

"OKaaay, let's see… Good! City Hall have agreed to a separate street number for the ranch house. It's the same as ours but with an 'A' after the last digit! And… yes! The US Mail has acknowledged the City Hall letter and OK'd the setting up of a second mail-box," Harm opened the last of the envelopes, "City Hall again, zoning committee…" he read rapidly, "they've granted permission for a second driveway for the ranch house!" He grinned in triumph, "It looks like I'm going to be busy this weekend!"

"Second driveway?" Jen queried.

"Yeah… it kinda struck me the day Mom and Frank flew back to SoCal, and like today, if Loren's got groceries as well as Alexandra and all her gear, it's a long struggle from the garage 'round to the ranch house. So I'm fixing to lay a second driveway the other end of the property, and take it up to the fence to the back yard and then put a gate in the fence."

Jen leaned back against the circle of his arms, "I knew I loved you for a reason! That is so thoughtful! But, you'll need to stop work by sixteen hundred tomorrow."

"Why?"

"Well unless you want me to cook our first dinner night meal?"

"Dinner night?" Harm asked in surprise, "Who… when… how many?"

"Oh, just the six of us," Jen replied in an off-hand manner.

"Jen…" Harm's voice came alive with suspicion, "What six?"

"Oh, well, there's us two, and Angela Hartmann and her husband - he's a Chief in logistics at the Navy Yard, and Loren of course, and David."

"David who?" Harm asked in very real alarm and with a sinking feeling that he knew the answer.

"David Medwick, of course!" Jen said in a matter of fact tone that only served to confirm Harm's worst fears, "I told you I had invited him for dinner to say thank you for looking after us last weekend and tomorrow is the only night he's got free this week!"

"Jen… does Loren know about this?" Once again he felt that he knew the answer.

"Oh, no, not yet, Jen answered nonchalantly, "but she'll be fine!"


	38. The Spider and The Fly

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter ****38  
>The Spider and the Fly<strong>

Jack Keeter pulled up outside the Andrews Naval Air Facility Female BOQ precisely at eighteen hundred hours, and tapped out a rhythm on the horn of his new toy. Summoned by the blast for which she'd been waiting, Skates grabbed her jacket and sea-bag and smilingly giving him credit for punctuality she made her way along the hallway to the main door, where opening it, she stopped dead as an expression of pure disbelief swept over her face.

Jack was grinning inanely as he leaned casually against the side of the hood of a gleaming, black, gold accented Trans Am Firebird Convertible.

Skates almost stumbled down the steps and then recovering her poise she marched briskly across the grass and stood in front of Jack, her hands planted firmly on her hips. "Jack Keeter, just what have you done?" she demanded.

"I… uh... sort of found this car for sale, dirt cheap, and it just sort of spoke to me, so I 'phoned the guy up on Wednesday, and I drove down to Lexington yesterday evening – Tuna took me over there, and we came back together last night. That's why I had to cancel our date for last night.

"You… you…. you cancelled our date, so you could drive to Lexington and buy a _car_? Are you insane? What were you thinking, Jack Keeter?"

"Well, it's the kind of car, the right make, model, year, for which I've been looking for a while, and… well… the price was right…"Jack said defensively, taken somewhat aback by Skates' onslaught.

"Oh, Jack," Skates said her voice suddenly subdued and her head drooping, "honestly, at times, you are still such a kid!"

"Ah… no, no I'm not. If I was a kid, I wouldn't have this car. That's who I got it from, "Jack grinned in remembered excitement. "There's this kid, see, at VMI. His parents bought him this car for his seventeenth birthday. He only drove it a few times, he says for less than a hundred miles, but it was too much car for him, and after one of his buddies got banged up in a muscle car, he decided to wait until he's had more driving experience to get one, so he bought a small Toyota, and advertised this one for sale. It was a snip, Beth, and come on look it at! A 2000 Firebird WS Convertible, with less than two thousand on the clock."

"Ohhh… boys and their toys," Skates groaned quietly to herself, but allowed Jack to walk her around the car, pointing out to her, its estimable features, but quickly glossing over minor details such as fuel consumption and insurance costs.

Jack finished his glowing endorsement of his new set of wheels and taking Skates' sea bag from her, he stowed it in the trunk which he gently closed with a loving pat, and then opened the door for her to settle herself into the passenger seat.

Skates buckled her seat belt and looked around the interior of the car, it was certainly well appointed, almost luxurious, and strapped into the leather upholstered bucket seat she felt at once spoiled and secure. Jack slid behind the wheel and checking that both seat belts were properly secured, switched on the ignition, engaged the gears and smoothly pulled away from the kerbside, the Firebird's engine growling with latent power.

About ten minutes into the journey, as Skates realised that they were heading north on the I-95, she turned to Jack and said, "OK, this car isn't the only thing you've been secretive about, where exactly are we headed?"

Jack grinned but kept his attention focussed on the road ahead, this stretch of the I-95 was no place to lose concentration on a Friday evening. "Well, you know last weekend, your Mom and Dad were telling me all about the family beach house down in… in… in Florida…"

"Yeah, Firefly Cove." Beth responded in answer to his obvious prompt.

"Well, although it's not quite on the beach, they're not the only ones with a holiday property. I've got a little place on Tilghman Island. It's a log cabin, but it's got all mod cons – I had it renovated a few years ago, and I use the place every once in a while to get away from it all… and," he added with a wicked grin, "after last weekend, I figured a bit of peace and quiet would do us both the world of good!"

"Jack Keeter! Are you saying you didn't like my family?" Skates challenged him.

"Hell no, Beth. I liked your dad on sight, although your mom scared the hell out of me for the first couple of hours or so…"

Skates giggled, "Yeah, she can be intimidating until you get to know her!"

"Oh, for a bit longer than that, I reckon," Jack drawled, "How long have your folks been married? Since '72, wasn't it? And she has got your dad well under control, even though she is only half his size!"

"So what's the problem with the family then?" Skates still wasn't appeased.

"Nothing… it's a great family. I loved them. Honestly. But… apart from the grilling your mom gave me, and the reminders not to hurt you that your brothers gave me, y'all have to remember that I'm an only child, and I was born late. So my folks were old when I was a kid, so our house was always quiet, a show place of decorum… but your family… How many brothers and sisters have you got?"

This time Skates really laughed, "My brothers really played the 'or else' card?" The look on Jack's face was confirmation enough. Skates writhed in embarrassment and blushed, "I'm gonna kill 'em! But, yeah… I can see where you're coming from now. Yeah, I have seven sisters and three brothers."

Jack just shook his head, "And they're all married, and they've all got two, three or even four kids. So when they all came to that Sunday cook-out, I was just kinda… snowed under. And even more importantly, I didn't get much quality time alone with you!" he ended, dropping his voice to a near growl.

"H'mm, OK… so you're excused from dissing my tribe. So… what's this place of yours like?"

"Well… it's a log cabin that's had a do-over; it faces west towards the Chesapeake, it's got a shower room built on to the Southern end and has solar panels to provide electricity and hot water. It's right down near the southern tip of Tilghman Island, near Black Walnut Cove, and it's quiet, and peaceful, and it's so out of the way that on a clear night it's like being on vulture's row after all ops have ended and the stars are so bright, and seem so near, it's almost like you could just reach up and touch them… Oh, yeah, and it's about twenty minutes from Saint Michael's Mission Church, Mass is at ten fifteen hours on Sundays."

Skates was startled… sure she made a point of getting to Sunday Mass whenever she could, but was used to making her own inquiries, and it wasn't that Jack was Catholic, or even religious, he'd told her that he'd been raised Southern Baptist, but as far as she knew he hadn't set foot in either church or chapel since Christmas, and yet he'd bothered to find out something that was important to her! And that, all by itself was enough to feel a little warm glow deep inside.

There was something else that was important to her, but that he hadn't mentioned. "Jack," she asked cautiously, "how many bedrooms does this cabin have?"

"Oh, just the one," he said airily.

It was his air of unconcern, of taking it for granted that not only dissolved the warm glow but also bit Skates' ass. "OK, that's assuming an awful lot, Jack Keeter, way too much in fact! Take the next exit, buster, and turn this car around! There is no way that we… that I'm ready for sharing a bed with you!"

"Well, ya know," Jack drawled a sly grin creeping across his face, "back to home to Texas, it's kinda figured to be more polite to wait until you're asked before you turn down an invitation."

"Jack! Turn this car around now!" Skates yelled at him in protest, but her indignation only served to make him laugh. Skates scowled and slumped back in her seat, her arms crossed defensively in front of her.

Jack chuckled for nearly a minute as he tried to get his laughter under control, and eventually, he grinned sideways at the fuming brunette in the passenger seat, "Actually, Beth, you were the one doing all the assuming. You never let me finish. What I was going to say, is that the cabin has only one bedroom, but there's a very comfortable pull-out couch in the lounge, that converts to a very comfortable bed!"

Skates let out a stifled "Oh," and felt herself turn beetroot red, suddenly finding that she couldn't look Jack in the face. Uncrossing her arms she let her hands drop into her lap and stared at them as if they were the author of her discomfort.

Unseen by Skates, Jack glanced swiftly across at her, a tender smile on his face, and reaching across, he gripped her shoulder and shook it gently, "It's OK, Beth," he told her.

Skates smiled at him gratefully, and reached up to touch his hand where it rested on her shoulder. Jack smiled again and regretfully took his hand away, replacing it on the wheel.

Jack stayed silent for ten minutes or so, except for the occasional burst of whistling tunes from old Marty Robbins songs, each outbreak of whistling accompanied by a swift glance across at Skates. At last as Jack started another burst of whistling Skates met his eyes and saw the absurdly innocent look that Jack had plastered across his face, and the last remaining vestiges of her anger and chagrin took wing. Looking at him more closely she decided, "You set me up you son of a bitch!"

"Oh, yeah!" Jack admitted with a huge grin.

"Oh. I am so going to get you for that!" she promised him with a chuckle, "You've been hanging out with Hammer for way too long!"

"Oh, it's not Hammer!" he assured her earnestly, "You know Beth Maartens used be my RIO, right?"

"Yeah, and?"

"And well, you know she flew out to Miramar with Hammer last week. Well instead of leaving her to be tormented by jarheads all weekend, he took her to his mom's place in La Jolla, and once they'd satisfied themselves that Jen and Loren and the baby were OK, his mom and Frank – that's Harm's step-dad – tore him to pieces every time he opened his mouth, and I gather that Loren and Jen are keeping him in line the same way. So if I've picked up any bad habits thataway, it's not Hammer's fault!"

"Well, of course you'd defend him," Skates retorted, "he is your old academy and flight school buddy!"

"True, true." Jack admitted, and then in an abrupt change of subject he asked, "So… what do you think of my new toy?"

Skates frowned, she still wasn't about to let him off the hook over the Firebird, not that she had any say in how he spent his money, but she was still smarting slightly over the bedroom fiasco. "Well it's comfortable enough, and a pretty smooth ride, but I still think I preferred your old Taurus."

"Oh, that's good!" Jack said cheerfully.

Taken completely by surprise, Skates gawped helplessly for a few seconds. Of all the responses she'd anticipated, and considering that she was deliberately needling Jack over changing from the Taurus to the Firebird, she was rendered momentarily speechless, but then figuring that he was setting her up again, she frowned and then in a voice of almost poisonous sweetness asked, "And why is that good, Jack, dear?"

"Because of this," he grinned, producing an envelope from his shirt pocket and handing it to Skates.

Skates took it from him, and opening it she took out the contents, and for the second time in less than half an hour was reduced to a breathless "Oh," as she gazed at the Taurus' pink slip, freshly made out in her name.

"Jack, I can't… this is too much…"

Jack grinned in sheer pleasure at her surprise, and then sobered as he replied, "Beth that old Volvo of yours has had it! It's burning damn near as much engine oil as it is gas. It sounds like hell, and I don't trust it to be anything more than a base-bomb. I've asked around and it would cost more than the car's worth to get the engine fixed. So for my peace of mind, just in case you have to drive anywhere, just take the damn Taurus!"

Skates just about managed a grin, "OK, I will… just to please you."

"Now… that's what I like to hear," Jack smiled.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm stepped back, lowered his shovel and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. The grass and three inches of topsoil had been removed from a thirty by ten feet strip from the yard fence to the left of the house back down to the kerbside. Not a bad day's work he thought, but now it was time to call it a day and head indoors to wash up before starting on the dinner, that Jen and Loren had been getting the house ready for.

Harm shook his head in bemusement. Dinner was dinner, right? The meal got cooked, people sat around the table and ate it, everybody talked, they moved to the lounge drank coffee, and at the end of the evening the guests went home and the hosts went, tired, to their beds. He hadn't expected Jen to turn the whole day into an orgy of hovering, dusting and polishing, although to be fair, Loren – at her own insistence – did most of the work, while she grudgingly let Jen supervise and occasionally wield a dusting cloth. Jen, once she had struggled through a particularly violent bout of nausea and had been comforted by Harm, and had breakfasted on crackers and camomile tea, had made up for her lack of participation in cleaning by spending half the morning making a gallon of lemonade, which once cooled she had brought out a pitcher for Harm try out. Maybe because peeling back the turf was hot work, or maybe it was just the heat of the day, but Harm was grateful for the cold, very refreshing drink, and smiling, told Jen that it was just about the best thing she could have brought him to drink.

Jen had smiled shyly, "Umm… it's the first time I ever made lemonade," she said.

"Really? Where, did you learn – Loren?"

"No… the 'net," Jen chuckled, "I figured that it would be better in this weather than even a cold beer, so I looked it up the other day, and then yesterday I stopped at that specialty grocer's store just off Broad Street and bought a bag of lemons. I figured it would make a bit of a change if we had it available for dinner tonight… if it's OK?"

"Yeah… First attempt, huh?" Harm said, straight-faced, "Well…" he took a sip and paused while Jen waited anxiously for his verdict, "H'mm… Refreshing… Not bad, in fact…" he took another sip and rolled it around his tongue.

Jen almost stamped her foot in impatience, the damn man was deliberately procrastinating, deliberately messing with her head, well, if he didn't watch out he'd be wearing the contents of the pitcher, not drinking it!

Harm saw the light of battle spark in Jen's dark brown eyes, and he hastily swallowed the lemonade, and with a smile finished, "yep, in fact, it's better than not bad. It's good, Jen, very good!"

Jen scowled at him suspiciously for a few moments, "Good call, mister!" she told him, and then grinned self-consciously, "You really think it's good? You're not just saying that?"

"It's perfect," he said snagging an arm around her waist and scooping her in, then leaning in to kiss her soundly.

"Harm!" A blushing Jen protested as she wriggled free, hampered by trying not to spill the lemonade.

"What? I thought you liked being kissed by me!" Harm teased her.

"Oh, I do, sailor, I do," she smiled as her eyes filled, "but what will the neighbours say!"

"Hey, hey, what's this?" Harm murmured, reaching out a gentle had to wipe away a stray tear.

"Oh, these are nothing," Jen sniffled damply, "They're happy, tears, stoopid!" she smiled over her shoulder as collecting his now empty glass she headed back towards the house, leaving Harm to shake his head in loving bemusement.

But that interlude had been some hours ago and Harm was all too aware that he was hot, tired and sweaty. But he had broken the back of the task and was well content. All that was left for tomorrow was to lay a membrane and then the skip-load of gravel which was now sitting on the front lawn. The excavated soil and strips of turf were destined for the back yard, where he was planning to install a vegetable and herb patch! The limiting factor for tomorrow was time, if he could get an early enough start then he might even get half-way through install the gate at the side of the house!

Picking up his turf-cutter and shovel, he headed for the house by way of the garage, and kicking off his work boots in the garage entered the house in his socked feet just in time to hear Loren say with a sigh, "Alright Jen, I'll come to the dinner, and I'll try to be polite. But I wish you hadn't invited Lieutenant Medwick, I told you I wasn't interested!"

"Yes, I know you did, but quite frankly Loren, I think that the lady doth protest too much! I saw your smile! And let's face it, we didn't exactly meet him in the best of circumstances, we were both cold, we didn't have the proper facilities to look after Sasha, and let's face it, that storm had frightened both of us! Look, it's one dinner, a couple of hours, Harm and I will be here, so just try to be civil, and give the guy a chance. What have you got to lose? You're going to need a break from time to time, and David's free and over twenty one, if you get on together, where's the harm in going out to dinner or a movie once in a while? After all, he's still a serving officer so he's going to be busy a lot of evenings."

"That's part of the problem," Loren admitted as Harm entered the room. Jen was sitting in what she had proclaimed to her armchair, leaning back against the squabs and with a half-amused, half-earnest expression on her face, Loren in contrast was perched on the very edge of the couch, half-leaning forwards and twisting a dusting cloth tightly between her hands.

"How do you mean?" Jen asked lifting an eyebrow.

"Well… He's not just a navy officer, he's a navy pilot… and in my time as a JAG, I've seen… oh, I don't know exactly how many, but I've seen a lot of JAGMan investigations into airplane mishaps and pilot and flight officer deaths and MIAs. Jen, I don't think I could stand another ding if I lost someone I let get real close…"

Jen paled slightly, but bit her lip and replied, "I will have to face that, Loren, every time Harm straps on a Tomcat, and I know it's hard to think about, but I look at this way… I've never been happier in my life than have been since I met Harm, and if all we ever have together is just these few short months, then in the end it will have been worth it. Loren, I know how hard it's been for you, but you could fall in love with a banker tomorrow, only to have him hit by a car or bus next year, next month or even that same day. Even us last weekend, if that tree branch, or whatever it was had been a half a second earlier or later hitting us, it could have come through a window, and either of us, or both could have been hurt… or worse. Look, I know how much courage you've got; you wouldn't have gotten where you are without gallons of the stuff, and I know you've been hurt, but don't be afraid of loving someone new, don't be afraid to let go…"

Loren managed a stiff grin, and said "Oh, Jen… I know in my mind that you're right, but…"

"Damn straight she's right, Loren," Harm interrupted as he came fully in to the room, startling both women who had been too absorbed in their conversation to notice him at the doorway. "There are so many ways to lose people today, that flying accidents come way down the list of possibilities." Harm continued as he sat next to Loren and gently took both her hands in one of his. He looked deeply into her eyes and carried on, "Have you got your computer up and networked yet? If not, use mine in the den, look up the percentage of military flying deaths compared to shootings, stabbings, vehicle wrecks or even simple domestic accidents. I really do know what it's like to lose a family member, and no, it's not easy, and I built up walls around myself to stop getting hurt if I let people in and then lost them, and I lost the chance of a lot of happiness on the way by keeping myself shut off from everybody else, and in the end it took a very special person to break down those walls without trying to change me, without putting any pressure on me, but in the end I had to let go, and I shall be forever happy that I did. I'm not saying that Tuna will be that special person for you, but if you don't give him – and you - a chance then you'll never know."

Loren looked back into Harm's eyes, "Do you really believe that, or are you just saying that to…?"

"Loren, how can you doubt me? You knew me for what? A couple of years before Jen first crossed my - our paths – can you honestly put your hand on your heart and say I'm not much happier now than I was before?"

Loren thought for a few seconds, but then was compelled to answer, "No… I can't say that you're not happier… Jen, I'm sorry to bring this up, but I… we all at JAG thought… that Harm and Colonel MacKenzie were destined to make a match of it, but even then I sometimes wondered… it seemed that they were always in competition with each other, in the court room, on investigations, in the office, and even in their personal lives. It was like even though they always had each other's backs when things got hinky, they were still always fighting to see who was best, like they were each keeping a personal scoreboard. When they were in sync it was great, when they were at odds… well the whole office suffered. The Colonel sulked, Harm got mad, and although I wasn't there when Harm announced that you and he were getting married, I'll bet there was a shit storm of Olympian proportions!"

"Well, no, not quite," Harm interrupted, "but it was… entertaining!"

Jen looked startled at that masterly understatement and then giggled.

"Well, maybe," Loren conceded, "but in the last month or so, Harm has seemed much more content, and even in the office this last week, he and the Colonel seem to be getting on that much better, there's less tension between them and, yeah, I got to agree, Harm is happier!" Loren thought for a few moments more and then gave a reluctant laugh, "Damn you Harmon Rabb! You did it again, you shyster! You made me argue myself into a position where if I'm going to be consistent then I've got to at least try and give Lieutenant Medwick a chance!"

Harm smiled warmly, "Good for you Loren! Oh, and I can more or less vouch for Tuna being one of the good guys. He and I shared a cabin on the _Patrick Henry_ for six months, so we got to know each other pretty well!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, and stepped over to the wash basin where he lathered his face and picked up his razor, casting a tolerant eye on Jen who was laid back so far in the tub that all he could see was the side of her head, the water lapping at her chin.

You are going to get water-logged," he chided her fondly.

"I know, I know," she sighed blissfully, "but I really don't care."

"You'll end up all wrinkled," he warned her.

"M'mmm… don't care 'bout that, either…"

Harm lifted the razor clear of his throat before he answered, "Liar!" he grinned. "I dare you to tell me that in twenty years!"

"In twenty years, you'll be an old man, and won't care how I look, just as long as I bring you your toast dipped in warm milk!" Jen giggled.

"Old man?" he queried indignantly, "You are going to pay for that! And if we had time, you'd be paying right now!"

Jen pushed herself a little further up the bath, so that the upper slopes of her breasts were clear of the water, "And why haven't we got time?" she breathed in a husky voice.

Harm swallowed hard and turned his attention back to the mirror, "Because, we've only got about forty minutes before our guests arrive… but" he added as Jen with a shriek of dismay clambered out of the tub and grabbed a towel, "if you are a very good girl this evening, I'll let you be a very bad girl tonight!"

"Cute, sailor," she laughingly complained.

"I wasn't being cute, I was being funny!"

His shave finished, Harm wandered into the bedroom a few minutes later to see Jen, nude from the waist up as she sat at her dressing table, applying the minute amount of make-up that she habitually used, and as always he admired the way her muscles slid under her smooth skin.

Conscious of his eyes on her as he dried himself off, Jen smiled secretively, and slowed down her movements, ensuring that she lifted her arms just slightly higher than she needed to, and arching her back just a little more than was necessary.

Harm, well aware of what she was doing, grinned happily, "I said, if you were a very good girl, I'd let you be a very bad girl later, but you're not being very good now are you?"

"Oh, I don't know…" Jen stood, letting her towel drop and undulated across the carpet towards him, "I thought I was doing OK…" she added suggestively.

Harm took a deep breath before he answered, "Nope, not working," he said, exercising iron control.

"Who's the liar now?" Jen breathed into his mouth as she stood on her toes to kiss him.

"H'mmm…" was all that Harm could say, before he stood back, took her gently by the shoulders and turned her round so that her back was to him, but they were both facing the mirror on the inside of the closet door.

"See, how beautiful you are?" he murmured into her ear, as his hands dropped from her shoulders, to her waist, his long fingers caressing the tiny bump of her stomach.

"If I'm so beautiful, why aren't you ravishing me right now at this instant?" Jen demanded with a fake pout.

"Because my darling, anticipation heightens desire… and our guests are due here in twenty minutes… and what's the betting that Loren will arrive early? Go on, put some clothes on!"

Jen grinned over her shoulder at him and sighed, "OK, but this anticipation stuff had better be all that you've cracked it up!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm busied himself with the array of drinks on the side-table in the lounge while Jen did a last minute check of the table and the room, while keeping an ear open for the knock at the door. Loren had let herself in through the kitchen door and was settling Alexandra in one of the spare rooms on the second floor, one half of the baby monitor already sat on the mantel piece over the fire place, the other would be tucked in to the side of Alexandra's crib.

Harm's eyes followed Jen as she moved around the room, marvelling that she could wear such a simple outfit and yet look so amazing in it. She had chosen the pants from her chocolate pants suit, which he had always said brought out the colour of her deep-brown eyes, and a cream silk long-sleeved, button down shirt, its square tails worn outside the pants, and her hair worn loose, hung way past the middle of her back.

Loren appeared at the foot of the stairs in a simple, sleeveless pale blue dress with a slightly flared knee-length skirt and a square cut neckline, her hair too was unbound but hung to just below her shoulders, and for ornament she wore a simple gold watch on her left wrist balanced by a sparkling bracelet on her right.

Jen's eyes had twinkled with amusement as she had challenged the blonde, "Isn't that the _notorious _Kevin-bought bracelet?"

"Damn straight it is!" Loren chuckled, "I don't often get a chance to wear it… and I trust the company tonight – there's no little monster to run off and play hunt the thimble with it!"

"I don't know if that's entirely a good thing," Jen grinned, "if you lose it tonight, you'll only have me to blame!"

"No… I promise I won't do that… but on the subject of losing things… and don't hate me for this Jen… but I've had to send my new dress whites – the ones you gave me from San Diego – well, I had to send them to the tailor's shop… they're… uh… a little bit loose on me now!" Loren smiled a little shyly, but she had worked so hard to get her pre-pregnancy figure back that she really needed to tell someone of her success, and who better than the woman who was closer to her than any of her sisters.

"Yess!" Jen hissed triumphantly, "I knew it! I knew you were losing weight! I'm so happy for you!"

"Thanks, Jen," Loren smiled, "I didn't know how you were going to take it, especially as you've just started to show…"

"Well… I'm Ok with it now, Loren, but I'll make no promises for four or five months down the line! Besides, I really like being pregnant, it's wonderful!"

Loren grimaced, the latter stages of her own pregnancy could not, for a variety of reasons, ever have been described as wonderful, and then she remembered, "Wonderful?" she asked doubtfully.

"Oh yes," Jen enthused.

"All of it?"

"Well… apart from the morning sickness, and even that's mostly gone by about eleven hundred…" but before Jen could say more the awaited knock on the front door heralded the arrival of at least one of the expected guests,; leaving Loren to wonder how much of Jen's current enjoyment of her condition would last once she could no longer see her feet and those feet began to hurt and she developed more or less permanent back-ache

Jen answered the door to find all three guests on the porch, "Uh… Come on in, please!" Jen stepped back to allow her guests to walk into the entry hall. "Did you three drive over together, or something?" she asked, wondering how Tuna knew the Hartmanns.

"No, Jen, we just all sort of arrived at the same time and walked up to the door together!" Tuna smiled, "here, add this to the drinks table!" he proffered a tissue wrapped bottle, "It's not a lot, but it will help!"

"My feelings exactly," Angela added offering a similar bottle, but then added in a stage whisper, "It's only sparkling grape-juice, but I thought…" and looked meaningfully at Jen's stomach. But before Jen could react, Angela blushed, the red painfully obvious on her fair skin, "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm totally forgetting, Jen, this is my husband, Tom…"

"Hi, Tom," Jen smiled warmly at her friend's husband, "I've heard a lot about you these last two weeks!"

"All good, I hope?"

"Not a chance!" his loving wife interrupted.

Tom and Jen both smiled and Jen then took the opportunity to turn to Tuna, "David, this is Angela Hartmann and her husband, who you might have gathered, is called Tom. Angela and Tom, this is David Medwick, a long-time friend of Harm's."

The round of greetings between Angela, Tom and David allowed Jen to usher her guests into the lounge, where Harm and Loren waited. Another round of introductions followed while Harm took custody of the extra bottles and made sure everyone had a full glass.

Jen watched as Loren and David greeted each other, Loren was cool, but as she'd promised perfectly civil, while there was a certain warmth in David's eyes that escaped neither Jen nor Angela, although Loren seemed to be oblivious of it. "Lieutenant, it's good to see you again," he ventured.

"Lieutenant," Loren acknowledged with a slight dip of her head as she took a sip of grape-juice. But then feeling that something more was required, she asked, "I take it you made it down to Andrews without too much extra delay, last weekend?"

He grinned, "Well, I got my six chewed a little, by Commander Keeter, for being adrift, but I told him to apply to you and Mrs Rabb for my alibi." A sudden thought struck him and he paled slightly, "He didn't did he?"

Loren hadn't meant to encourage him but the look of alarm on his face was so comical that although she stifled her laughter, she couldn't prevent a smile from spreading across her face, "No, he didn't, you can relax!"

Tom Hartmann however had overheard the beginning of their conversation, and swiftly drew Angela to one side, "Did you hear that?" he asked in an urgent undertone, "They're Lieutenants, for Chrissakes!"

"It's alright, Tom," Jen intervened before Angela could frame a reply. "This is my house, and there are no ranks, rates or ratings, here. To quote my mother-in-law, 'you can all be good little sailor boys and girls and 'sir' and 'ma'am' each other to your hearts' content when you're not here, but in my house, I set the protocols, and it's first names here!' After all, if I don't call Harm 'sir' when we're here, I can't expect my friends to do so, can I"?

"Sir?" Both Angela and Tom asked in chorus, but with very different inflections. Angela's voice held nothing but the liveliest curiosity, while Tom's disclosed a degree of alarm.

"Yes, but it's OK," Jen reassured them, Tom in particular, "Harm's a Commander at..."

"But there's only one commander here tonight, isn't there, sweetheart?" the subject of the conversation asked as he slipped an arm around Jen's waist. "And this is she! Tom, don't worry about it, we're hardly likely to impact unit cohesion here, so there's no conduct to the prejudice. This is our home, Angela is Jen's friend, and I very much hope that we'll become and stay friends…"

"Yes, si..." Tom replied automatically, only to be interrupted by a raised eyebrow and a warning finger, "Yes… Harm…" Tom managed.

"Good man!" Harm enthused, "Let me get you a refill… Are you a football man, Tom? You look as if you might have played some?"

"Yeah, I was a strong safety at high school and I used to play a bit for the first couple of ships I was in…"

"Uh-huh… what's your NFL team?"

"The Raiders," Tom replied with just a hint of defiance.

"You a California boy?" Harm asked, "Me too, from San Diego! So I'm morally bound to support the Chargers!"

Their voices carried quite clearly to where David and Loren were still having a stilted conversation, prompting David to make his excuses to Loren, "Hey guys, it really doesn't matter which of those two teams you cheer for, they both suck! I mean if you California guys knew anything about football, you'd be with me cheering on the Packers!"

Howls of derision broke from both Harm and Tom, until Loren's sharp, "Harm – Alexandra!" brought a sudden hush and a guilty look from Harm.

"Sorry, Loren. Forgot. Loren's baby is sleeping upstairs, so we need to keep it down to a dull roar!" Ham gave a weak grin as he explained to the other men.

Loren gave the three of them a half-disgusted, half-amused look and came towards Jen and Angela, "Men!" she grumbled in exasperation.

"Oh, we've lost them now," Angela smiled tolerantly, "Now they're on about their damn football. Honestly, Tom could bore for America on that subject! But what's this about a baby? Jen you never mentioned anything about having a baby in the house," she accused Jen reproachfully.

"Oh, Loren's baby, Sasha - Alexandra - she's beautiful..."

Whatever Jen was about to say next was lost as the timer on Harm's watch pinged, and he called out, "OK everyone, bring your glasses and let's eat!"

Harm had settled on a Spanish-style menu, vegetarian and seafood tapas to start with, followed by a piping hot five-fish casserole in a red wine, garlic, tomato and onion sauce, accompanied by chunky Spanish bread and a green salad, with ice-cream – Jen's Rocky Road favourite prominent amongst the flavours on offer - and coffee taken, after a half hour or so wait for the main course to settle, in the lounge. The conversation had become general during the course of the meal, including a recounting, for Harm's benefit mostly, of the Gunfight at Grams's Farm. Harm's reaction was one of unadulterated amusement. "Oh, dear, the Johnson's," he chuckled. "It was all over years and years ago, I could only have been about eight or ten years old, but as I recall it, there was a dispute over the creek. It was the boundary between the Johnson's farm and the Rabb farm. The Johnsons claimed it was all theirs while Grams had the papers to show that the boundary ran down the middle of the creek. The problem came one spring when there was a flash-flood and the creek shifted, carving a new bed out of Johnson land, and incidentally adding to Grams's holdings. It was quite the court-case of the year, and no," he glared at Jen and Loren, "it didn't come down to a shooting war!"

The after dinner conversation was disturbed at about nine-thirty as Alexandra's demands became heard over the baby monitor, and Loren, smiling apologetically, got to her feet to attend to her daughter. "I'll come with you, if I may," Tuna offered, "I'd like to renew my acquaintance with that young lady."

It was impossible for Loren to say no without appearing ungracious; all she could do was muster up a half-smile, and lead Tuna from the room.

Harm looked at Jen, with just the beginnings of a worry-frown on his forehead, "Do you think they'll be OK?"

"What are you worried that Loren might jump his bones?" Jen chuckled.

"No – I'm afraid she might kill him!"

"H'mm… I don't think he's in danger of either of those two fates!" Jen declared decisively, and then as Harm's expression cleared, she grinned and added "Yet."

And although neither Angela nor Tom were aware of the situation, the sheer mischief in Jen's expression set them laughing along with Harm.

The strains of the laughter carried clearly to the second floor where Loren turned furiously on Tuna, "Do you hear that?" she demanded furiously, they're all probably giggling their heads off, speculating over what we might be doing! But I tell you, that _we_ will be doing nothing. _I_ on the other hand will be looking after my daughter!"

"No… I didn't think for a moment that _we_ would be doing anything," Tuna agreed.

"Wha…? Well, why did you want to come up here with me then if you weren't going to…?" Loren floundered to a blushing halt.

"Hit on you?" Tuna offered helpfully as Loren's blush intensified, "Simple, just what I said, I wanted to renew my acquaintance with this beautiful young lady. She's much easier to get on with than her mother! And anyway, I like kids…"

Loren had been about to erupt over Tuna's remark about Alexandra being easier to get on with than herself, but the look in Tuna's face as he turned his attention to Alexandra grabbed her attention, "You really do like children, don't you…"

"Oh yeah," he smilingly agreed, and just stopped himself from picking Alexandra up out of her porta crib, but he turned to Loren and asked, "May I?"

Loren never could explain, even years later, why she let him pick Alexandra up and place her on the changing mat, but she simply nodded and said "Yes." And as she watched him gently hold her daughter, she had a flash of fancy that it seemed somehow right that he should do so.

Almost physically shaking that feeling off, she looked at him again and asked in perplexity, "Why do you persist in talking to me, when I have done everything except throw you a traffic signal to show that I'm neither interested nor available?"

Tuna raised his eyes from Alexandra who stared back at him with her unblinking gaze and said, "I'm not sure… maybe because I can feel an inherent quality about you, maybe because you haven't thrown me a traffic signal. I don't know… I know I'm attracted to you, but I don't know just how deep my attraction towards you runs; all I know is that I want to get to know you better."

Loren nodded thoughtfully, "No strings?"

"Not even a length of sewing thread," Tuna smiled.

Loren drew a deep breath and stuck out her hand, "OK then, friends?"

Tuna took her hand, "Yeah, friends – and let's see how we get on?"

"But friends for now, right?" Loren insisted, suddenly feeling very uncertain.

"Right." Tuna agreed gravely.


	39. Dawn of a New Day

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 39  
>Dawn of a New Day<strong>

Loren awoke to the sound of Sasha's burbling, conveyed to her bedroom through the baby monitor that hung on the end of her daughter's crib, and smiled. Now that she'd returned to work on finishing her maternity leave she was beginning to really appreciate the weekend.

She had discovered that it was a mad rush Monday to Friday morning to get Sasha bathed, dressed and fed before she could get herself ready for work, and that a hurried kiss was all the time she could afford to spend with her daughter before handing her off to the minder before bolting out of the door in time to share the ride to Falls Church with Harm. That at least was working well, and now that it was common knowledge that she and the Rabbs were neighbours, the fact that they were car-pooling wasn't raising many eyebrows. Oh, there were probably one or two maliciously idle tongues that were prepared to insinuate that the arrangement was anything other than an arrangement between friends and neighbours, but so far she'd heard nothing and, she resolved, if she did then may God have mercy on the speaker, because she wouldn't!

For now, as she knelt alongside the bath-tub and gently ladled warm water over Sash's wriggling body, she was content to enjoy the morning ritual she had established; change, bathe and feed Sasha, strap her into her porta-crib while she, Loren, showered, dressed and breakfasted and then got on with the Sunday morning chores before joining Jen for a mid-morning cup of tea, while she once again fed Sasha.

Lifting her baby out of the tub, Loren gently patted her dry with one of the softest towels she had ever found – a present to Sasha from Frank – and smiled to herself as she did so. If anyone had told her a year ago that she would happily abandon her ambition to become the first female JAG and settle for the life of a single mom she'd have had them remanded for a compulsory psych eval. In fact if anyone had made the same suggestion at any time during her first trimester her reaction would have been pretty much the same.

Now as she twisted and turned under the stinging hot needles of her shower, she tried to decide just when her attitudes had done such a complete 180 degree turn, but dismissed the question as irrelevant, whatever she might have decided, whatever she might previously have thought or felt all counted for nothing the second the nurse had for the first time laid the pink-blanket-wrapped Sasha in her arms.

And from now on the guiding principle in her life would be that Sasha's welfare and happiness must come first, and her own wants and wishes must take second place. After all, if there was one thing she could be sure of it was her love for her daughter, unlike all other loves that had ultimately proved to be transient, this one was for keeps.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"What the…?" Harm was awoken by the violence with which Jen catapulted herself from their bed and as he gathered his wits he heard the unmistakable sound of retching through the open door to their bathroom. Now it was his turn to vault out of bed and rush into the bathroom, where he saw Jen on her knees, desperately clinging to the toilet bowl as her stomach voided itself. "Jen?" he asked uncertainly.

Jen raised her head and looked at him through tear-filled eyes, and just about managed a weak, watery grin before another spasm of nausea wracked her. Harm, feeling helpless dropped to his knees beside her and gathered her beautiful long hair in one hand, holding it clear of her face while he soothingly rubbed his free hand up and down her back.

Three or four more bouts of nausea left a temporarily exhausted Jen still kneeling on the floor but with her face buried in Harm's chest while he lent her the comfort of his embrace.

After a few minutes of sobbing gasps, Jen pulled herself upright, and so as not to reject the comfort offered by her husband she slid her hands down the length of his arms to clasp his hands. "This really, really, sucks," she commented morosely. "And it's just so unfair…"

"How's that, sweetheart?" Harm asked, levering himself to his feet and helping Jen in her turn to stand.

"Because I thought I'd gotten away with it, I thought that I was going to be a morning sickness free zone!"

Harm hadn't really considered Jen's lack of adverse symptoms, but now thinking back, he realised that not once had she ever complained of feeling tired, or having aching feet, or backache… and especially not of being sick. In fact, he couldn't recall her being sick…

"When did this start sweetheart?" he asked as he manoeuvred her to tub, encouraging her to sit on the edge of it, while he flushed the toilet and lowered the lid to provide himself with a seat.

Jen blushed and avoiding his eyes looked down at her lap where her fingers were nervously twisting around themselves, "Last weekend, when Loren and I went up to Grams's. I thought it was just a nervous reaction to the storm… the stress… it was a bit scary, you know?" she finished on a note of bravado that was so transparently false that it almost brought a tear to Harm's eye.

"And you managed to hide it from me for a week?" he demanded incredulously, and to Jen's dismay she caught the undercurrent of anger in his voice.

"I… I… I'm sorry," she mumbled, "I just didn't want you to worry… Please, don't be angry, I was only trying…"

Harm gave a little bark of mirthless laughter, and slipping off the commode, he knelt in front of his wife and captured her still nervously twisting hands in his own, forcing stillness on them, "Oh, Jen, Jen… what am I going to do with you? If I'm angry, I'm not angry with you – I'm angry at myself for being so blind, dumb and insensitive! But, why, oh why didn't you tell me when you saw I hadn't noticed…?"

Jen's reply was broken up by tearful hiccups, "Be… because I don't want you thinking that you married a weak wimp who needs to be…"

Harm was dumbfounded and for a few seconds he gazed at his wife in amazement while he struggled to find the words to refute her. "Oh, Jen… if there's one thing you're not is a wimp! You are one of the bravest, strongest people I know… not to mention the most beautiful!"

Jen, although not yet having had a chance to see her reflection this morning, nevertheless had a pretty shrewd idea of the picture she presented, puffy face, swollen reddened eyes, tangled hair and tastefully attired in a pair of boxer shorts and a USNA T-shirt. "Harmon Rabb," she gulped, "You are either the biggest liar under the sun – or you need your eyes checking!" she finished with another watery smile.

"None of the above!" he grinned, hauling himself back to his feet, "What say I grab a quick shower, and then I'll get breakfast started while you take your turn in the shower?"

"M'mm…"

"Any special requests for breakfast?" he asked still holding her hands.

"Umm… I bought some blueberries yesterday…" she hinted with a shy grin.

"Blueberry pancakes, then?"

"Yes, please, and some toast and marmalade?" she cajoled him.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm had taken advantage of Jen's shower time to make himself a cup of instant coffee, not, as he was the first to acknowledge, to be compared with the real stuff, but it was quick and convenient and he could get it brewed and drunk before Jen finished getting ready to face the day.

Now, with breakfast finished, and in accordance with house rules that the cook didn't have to wash the dishes, he was back outside unrolling the heavy duty polythene membrane prior to wedging it in place and then layering the gravel over it...

It wasn't difficult work, but it was a heavy roll of polythene and it had an annoying tendency to veer off its required path as he unrolled it towards the sidewalk, and the stooped position the manoeuvre required wasn't doing his ejection-abused back any favours. So he was gratefully surprised as he straightened up to take a couple of minutes break when he saw a battered blue and white Ford F150 pick-up pull to a stop and David Medwick climb out of the cab, "Hey, Hammer, looks like you could maybe use a helping hand?"

"Well… a strong back and a weak mind are always welcome in cases like this!" Harm exclaimed, "The thing is," he continued, with mock suspicion, "How much is this going to cost me?"

Tuna glanced at the house, "Oh… I dunno… hadn't really factored that in to my thinking… let's say…" he paused significantly before concluding deadpan, "A sandwich and a cold drink at lunchtime?"

"You drive a hard bargain, buddy!" Harm grinned and sighed theatrically, "but I suppose we could manage that!"

"Well let's get to it," David Medwick said, "We're wasting good daylight!"

With the two working together the laying and pinning of the membrane was swiftly accomplished, and although filled with a feeling of satisfaction both men regarded the mound of gravel waiting to be spread, levelled and tamped down with disapprobation. After a minute or so of silent contemplation of the task ahead, Harm sighed, "It's a lousy job…"

"But someone's got to do it!" David finished for him.

With matching rueful grins, shovels were grabbed and the work of surfacing the new driveway began. Both men worked on silence, soon establishing a rhythm and the task was about half-completed by late morning, when Jen appeared, a sunny smile on her face and a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses on a tray.

Although not yet full summer with its oppressive heat and humidity both men eyed the condensation-misted pitcher of lemonade with thirsty anticipation as they each reached for a glass and held it for Jen to pour for them.

"Yesterday's, or a fresh pitcher?" Harm enquired.

"It's the last of yesterday's," Jen replied, and added a touch defensively, "we didn't touch it last night, what with the ginger ale, the cider and the grape juice… and seeing how you liked it yesterday, and as it's another hot one…"

"Well, I'm not complaining," David said, having taken a first taste of the drink, "It's da… uh… darn good, and hits the right spot!"

"No argument from me either!" Harm agreed, reaching out to tuck a wayward strand of Jen's hair behind her ear. Her hands full with the tray Jen could do nothing but lean her face into the palm of his hand and smile up at him, before he let his hand drop to his side.

Harm took advantage of the closeness necessitated by replacing his empty glass on the tray to drop a gentle kiss on Jen's lips and was startled to feel her respond by probing his lips with her tongue, but then break the kiss before he could deepen it, leaving him with a foolish expression on his face and the tips of his ears glowing crimson.

"Lunch in about an hour's time!" she told them as she turned away, and with an extra swing of her hips looked back over her shoulder and laughed at the expression on her husband's face.

Tuna had watched their by-play with an indulgent smile on his face, but as Jen headed back towards the house his expression sobered and he released a sigh.

Harm looked at him curiously, "Something wrong there, buddy?" his tone hovering on the very edge of jealous suspicion.

"Huh? No… not really… just a bit envious I guess…" and then realising what he's said could be misconstrued, he hurriedly added, "It's just that Jen so obviously adores you, that it makes an old bachelor like myself wonder if he's ever going to be lucky enough to find for himself what you two have been so lucky to discover… but," he shrugged as he turned to look past the house in the direction of the ranch-house and gave a self-deprecating grin, "there's always hope… just need a little bit of luck in the mixture…"

Harm nodded, "Loren?" he inquired.

"I hope so," David answered, "we decided on a cessation of hostilities last night…"

"H'mm." Harm looked thoughtfully at his friend, "I do wish you luck, buddy, but Loren's been through some pretty tough shit in her life. I don't know the details, but she seems to have been abandoned or betrayed by anyone who ever told her they loved her." He dropped his eyes, too ashamed to meet his friend's gaze, "Including, sadly, my kid brother; he's Sasha's father…" he ended lamely, not really knowing how else to finish.

David looked at him, "That doesn't surprise me," he commented thoughtfully.

"Oh, how so?"

"Well, Loren told me last night that Sasha's father was no longer in the picture, and… don't forget I shared a cabin with you for six or seven months, so I have a pretty good idea of how you regard family, and it explains the set up you've got here. It figures that if your brother skipped out on Loren, then you'd be the one to pick up the slack."

"Loren and Alexandra are more than just slack, Tuna," Harm admonished him.

"Oh yeah… you don't have to tell me that, Harm."

"Yeah, well what I mean is… Loren's had enough heartbreak in her life, that's why she gets so defensive, and… and she doesn't need you to add to it."

David turned to face Harm square on, "I have no intention of adding even one thimbleful to Loren's troubles. Harm, I know I haven't known her for more than a couple of evenings, but there's something about that woman that just speaks to me."

Harm regarded him thoughtfully, fixing him with piercing look, and then finally relented and relaxed, "Well, OK then… but if you hurt her, then you'll have me to reckon with! Capisce?"

David grinned, "Si, Padrone!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" Jen exclaimed waving her hand back and forward as she made a bee-line for the kitchen sink.

"Jen, what on earth…?" Loren queried as she paused in the act of shredding a lettuce.

"Ohhhh! Nothing really," Jen sighed as she sagged in relief as the cold water from the faucet washed over her hand, "It's just that I nicked myself earlier while I was slicing the mushrooms, and I just got some lemon juice in the cut!" she confessed half-laughing and half-embarrassed.

Loren grimaced in sympathy, "Ouch! I'll bet that stings!"

"Oh yeah!" Jen fell silent for a few moments as she dried her hands and then turning back to the two freshly made pitchers of lemonade, she asked somewhat diffidently, "Loren, you don't mind David being here do you? I mean, I know kinda blindsided you with the dinner last night, but at least you were talking to him by the end of the evening…" she let her voice trail off in an unspoken question.

Loren added the chopped lettuce to the carrots onions and mayonnaise and stirred the mixture vigorously for a couple of minutes before answering. "No… I guess it's alright that he's here, after all he's helping your husband, and he'll be eating lunch in your house, so I don't really see that it's any of my never mind."

"That's a nice try at deflection, Loren, but it ain't working!" Jen admonished her.

Loren put down the bowl and the wooden spoon and braced her fists on the counter-top, glaring in an exasperated manner at Jen. "OK… we decided last night that we could be friends…" Jen's face lit up and Loren hastily added severely, "Friends, Jen, friends, nothing more!"

"Yeah, right!"

"Jennifer Rabb! You are impossible! David Medwick and myself have decided to be friends – actually that's not strictly true," she added thoughtfully. "It was more the way that Sasha took to him and how gentle he was with her…so, I figured if he could be one more person in her life that might grow to love her, then it wasn't fair or right for me to prevent that from happening…" Loren's concentration seemed to waver, and her expression softened.

Jen was about to bounce back with a teasing rejoinder, but a second thought occurred, and she dropped her joking façade and contented herself with a sympathetic smile and a simple "That's nice."

Loren gave herself a shake and seemed to recollect her surroundings… "How much longer have we got? The coleslaw's done, but it could stand refreshing in the 'fridge."

"Yep. I figure we've got thirty – maybe forty-five minutes, so stick that bowl in the fridge, we'll clean down and then we'll have time for a cup of tea before we call the menfolk in. I could really tolerate putting my feet p for half an hour or so." Jen remarked in a conspiratorial voice.

The two women made short work of policing the kitchen – both were neat workers by nature and navy training had not only reinforced their natural instincts, but had also made them adept at quick and efficient cleaning, so with everything stowed away Loren and Jen retired to the lounge, where dropping a throw pillow on the coffee table Jen sank back on the couch, toed off her moccasins and raised her feet to rest on the pillow on the coffee table

"How is it today, Jen?" Loren inquired from where she snuggled into one of the armchairs, cradling Sasha one-handed as she undid her blouse buttons.

Jen shrugged, "Still got the damned morning sickness, and a full morning on my feet is more than enough to start my feet aching. I guess since I don't do so much running around at work anymore I'm not getting the exercise I should – I'm going to have to start walking some more."

"Did you do all that much more at Falls Church?" Loren asked in some surprise.

"Duh, yeah! If I wasn't going to the law library, I was on my way to the basement archive, or just criss-crossing the bull-pen from my work station to the printer, or to the copier. Sometimes it felt like I spent half the day on my feet, but working for Commander Manetti, there's only two of us in the office – me and Angela and we sit in front of a bank of filing cabinets and we each have a dedicated printer at our work stations. There's an office messenger system, so if anything needs to go anywhere, we just stick it in an internal envelope and put it on the cart when it comes around. If we need anything, we phone the department we want, tell them what we want and wait for it to be delivered by the messenger service! So once we've walked from our cars to our offices, we don't really have a need to leave the office until we got for lunch."

"So… who's this Commander Manetti?" Loren asked as she transferred Sasha to her other breast.

"Oh, she's great! Have you met her? She's a lawyer, a legal advisor to the SecNav. Her name's Italian, but she's Vietnamese by birth, I think, or maybe half-Vietnamese. Her family come from the Piedmont and have something to do with the tobacco industry, I think."

"No, I haven't met her," Loren replied, the only other JAG I ever met who worked at the Pentagon was a Commander Lindsey…" Loren became lost in thought for a moment or two and then grinned mischievously, "In fact I met him at the Christmas Service just after A J Roberts decided to play hunt the thimble with my bracelet!"

Then once again Loren's expressive face changed and a guarded look crept over her features. "Have you met him Jen?"

Jen put her mug down on the coffee table and sat up straight. There was something about Loren's body language that suddenly proclaimed that she was uncomfortable.

"Yes, I've met him," Jen replied, "Although, and I'm sorry if he's a friend of yours Loren, but I don't like him. Oh, he's friendly enough, but there's something … Oh, I don't know… smarmy about him? He makes me feel uncomfortable."

"Good!" Loren said emphatically as she rummaged in her daughter's diaper bag for a burping cloth before she brought Sasha up to her shoulder.

Jen arched an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Jen, believe me, he's no friend of mine! If he should offer any 'career counselling' Loren said keeping her eyes fixed on Sasha, "Thank him for the offer, but do not accept it. He'll ask for more in payment than you'd be willing to pay."

"What do you mea… oh… yeah… Angela said pretty much the same thing just this week. Thanks for the heads up. Did he… did you…?"

Loren made a performance of fastening Sasha back into her porta crib so as to avoid looking at Jen as she answered, "Yes, he did offer me some career advice, and then when he made his expectations of payment clear, he didn't want to listen when I said 'no'…"

"Oh God, Loren, he didn't… I mean you're alright aren't you? He never?"

"No, it wasn't that bad," Loren answered, still having difficulty in meeting Jen's gaze, "I used the oldest trick in the book to avoid any extreme unpleasantness." And seeing Jen's look if confusion continued, "A sharp knee applied forcefully where it would do me the most good and him the most harm!"

"But you're embarrassed by it?" Jen guessed.

"No… not by him, but by my own stupidity." Loren defended herself.

"And you reported him, right?" Jen asked her.

"Well…"

"Loren, please tell me that you reported him!" Jen insisted, and then it was as if the proverbial light bulb switched on above her head, "No… you didn't report him, did you? Otherwise he wouldn't still be here. Loren, why ever not?"

Loren hunched forward in her chair her elbows resting on her knees and her hands clasped in front of her. For the first time since the subject of Commander Lindsey was raised, she looked her friend in the face and said, "It's simple really, there was no physical evidence, and it would have been a simple case of he said, she said, and given who I was at that time, and that I made the initial approach to him after the Christmas Service, who do you think would have been believed? No, I just counted my blessings on getting out of that mess with a whole skin. But, Jen be careful around him, OK?"

"Yeah, I will. I'll be very careful. Thanks for the heads up! Now for something completely different: We've both of us let our tea go cold… so do you want a fresh cup?"

Loren managed a somewhat shaky laugh, "Are you sure you're not British? You seem to think a cup of tea is some sort of a cure-all!"

"No… I miss my coffee too much to be anything other than a good ol' gal, and as for tea being a cure-all, well no, but it can't hurt, can it?"

"True – no stay where you are, Jen. I'll get the tea!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm and David leaned on their shovels. The gravel had been spread broadcast over the membrane and raked as level as they could make it and the two men surveyed their handiwork relishing that glow of pleasure that comes from a job well done. As they contemplated the results of their labour however, David started to frown and finally turned to Harm. "Do you see anything wrong with this picture?"

"No… why?"

"Well, it looks like a perfect length of driveway, all thirty feet of it, but…"

"But what?"

"Well, if you look at every other driveway you'll see that it extends to the pavement and the sidewalk and kerbstones have been lowered to allow vehicles to get onto the driveways. And I've a sneaky feeling that that sort of job is beyond our skill set!"

"H'mm… yeah, but Loren should be able to drive up onto the kerb, it's not that much higher than the pavement."

"Nope, what she needs is a ramp!" David considered for a few seconds, "Look, we're going to be tearing down a section of that fence after lunch, right, and putting in a gate?"

"Yeah…"

"OK, so we use one of the surplus uprights to make a ramp, until you can get someone to make a concrete one."

"Yeah, that'd work," Harm said rubbing his chin, "How the hell, did I miss that?"

"The old fighter-pilot curse – target fixation!" David answered, not entirely joking

"Yeah could be, could be." Harm ruefully acknowledged, "And I'll tell you something else we – or rather I haven't taken into consideration."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"All that loose gravel… it needs to be packed down if it's going to stay where we put it!"

"Yeah…"

The two men, their egos considerably deflated, stood in gloom trying to figure a way to achieve their objective, until they were disturbed by Jen calling them in for lunch.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Lunch as prepared and served by Loren and Jen consisted of fresh bread, cold cuts for the carnivores and a selection of smoked sliced fish for Harm, and which Jen attacked with equal gusto, accompanied by salad and Loren's piquant coleslaw. Its bite she explained was the result of mixing a couple of teaspoons of sweet paprika into the mayonnaise.

Harm and David however were still too preoccupied with the problems they had talked themselves into believing they were having and their lack of response eventually, Jen stopped what she was saying and started a new topic of conversation, "Harm, Loren and I have decided that I'm not getting enough exercise…"

"Yeah… right." Harm replied, but his mind still clearly somewhere else.

"So, this afternoon we thought we'd take a stroll up to Belleville to see Grams Sarah…"

"That's good."

"Of course, it's quite warm, so we thought we'd stop for a swim on the way."

"H'mm… sounds like a plan."

"The thing is," and Jen's voice had taken on enough of an edge to alert David who tried in vain to surreptitiously attract Harm's attention, only to be stopped dead by a matched pair of ferocious glares from both Jen and Loren.

"The thing is, I'm too fat now to get into my swim suit, so it looks like I'll have to go skinny dipping." Jen finished.

"Whatever you think is best, hon," Harm replied.

Jen exploded, "Harmon Rabb!"

"What?" Harm said startled out of his introspection.

"You haven't heard a word I've said to you for the last ten minutes!" Jen stormed at him.

"Yes I have!" Harm tried to defend himself.

"Well what was the last thing I said, then?"

"That I hadn't been listening to you?" Harm offered from the depths of a guilty conscience.

"Well you got that right! But what did I say before that?" Jen demanded

"Umm… I… uh… well, you said… that... umm" Harm faltered.

David could no longer contain himself, and exploded into laughter, earning himself a further glare from both women, "Oh give it up Hammer, you are so busted!"

Harm sat back from the table, and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, "Ok, I admit, I was miles away. I'm sorry sweetheart, but I can only throw myself on the mercy of the court. We've hit a slight problem with Loren's driveway and I was trying to figure the best way around it."

Jen, partly pacified by the apology was still not going to let him slide quite so easily, "Yeah, well it's not enough that you sit there and ignore us, but after all the trouble Loren went to fixing your lunch, you've barely eaten a mouthful!"

Even as she spoke, Harm became aware that although he was at the table, he hadn't eaten more than a bite or two, and he was in fact still hungry. Turning to Loren he said, "Loren, I'm so sorry, it's like David said earlier, target fixation, I was concentrating so hard on find a solution to the problem that I let everything else just go past mer. And the work you put into preparing this lunch deserves better of me. Forgive me, please?" He gave her the full benefit of his kilo-watt smile, ad despite the resentment Loren had been feeling, she was forced at first to smile, and eventually chuckle.

"Go on then, eat your lunch! But tell us too, what's the problem with the driveway?"

Harm and David made short work of their lunch, and over tall glasses of fresh, cold lemonade explained to Loren and Jen the probable fate of loose gravel.

The two women looked at each other at the end of the explanation and then turned back towards the men. "Roller." Loren said simply.

"Excuse me?" Harm asked a puzzled frown creasing his forehead.

"A heavy roller," Loren explained, "Like they use on golf courses to flatten the greens. You must be able to borrow or hire one!"

Harm grinned, and let his grin develop into a chuckle and then into a full blown laugh, "Loren, you are a genius!" he managed between bursts of laughter.

"She may well be!" Jen retorted as she crossed to Sasha's porta-crib where the startled infant, rudely awoken from her nap by Harm's shouts of mirth was beginning to make her displeasure known, "But you certainly aren't!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Their penance paid in the form of washing up Harm and David returned to their outside chores and made short work of tearing down a six feet length of the fence, and salvaging one of the eight-foot long fence posts for use as a temporary ramp, swiftly measured out and dug the post holes for the new gate posts, and by four o'clock in the afternoon they stood back, well pleased with their efforts as they nodded approvingly at the five feet high gate operated with a thumb latch which would, together with the new gravel drive save Loren over a hundred feet of struggling with stroller, diaper bags and shopping.

"Well, what do you think?" asked Harm, "Do you reckon they've calmed down enough to appreciate our efforts?"

"There's only one way to find out," David replied, "and seeing that it's your house, your wife and it was your screw up, I reckon it's up to you to carry out the recon and make the invitation!"

"Traitor, coward!" Harm grumbled.

"Damn straight!" David agreed cordially.

"You're not even going to defend yourself?" Harm asked in amazement.

"Not by as much as a syllable, Hammer! But I'll tell you what I will do, I'm flying Bravo CAPs for the next ten days, but if you can find a roller, I'll pick it up in the truck, it'll save some on having it delivered, and I'll drop it off on day one, and come back on the morning of day two to give you a hand bedding that gravel down!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm stepped out of the shower and vigorously towelled himself dry before stepping into a fresh pair of boxers and pulling on a clean USNA T-Shirt which after many washes had faded to an indeterminate neutral colour, achieving in the process the sort of softness normally associated with cashmere, and stepped into the bedroom where Jen was sitting up in bed, her own T-shirt pulled up under her arms and massaging her growing bump with a creamy substance.

Harm slipped into bed beside her and leaned over to give her a gentle kiss on the cheek, "Am I forgiven yet?" he asked teasingly?"

"Only because we promised never to go to bed still mad at each other!" Jen retorted, but with her eyes gleaming in the lamplight.

"Oh, I don't care about the whys and wherefores," Harm said, his hand helping her massage the oil into her bump, "just as long as I am forgiven."

"Well, you're not forgiven quite that far, mister!" Jen told him as she brought his hand back up to her bump from where it had been straying dangerously close to the waistband of her pyjama pants, but her fond smile robbed her words of any sting, as she continued, "I'm feeling a little tired tonight, and it's back to duty tomorrow. So in a way, I'm kinda glad that David didn't want to stay for dinner. With all the company we've had this weekend, it was kinda nice just to be able to curl up and cuddle with my husband for a quiet evening."

"Yeah, how about that. David coming to give me a helping hand today." He cocked his head inquisitively at Jen, "Was this your doing?"

"Not guilty, counsellor," Jen giggled, as she wiped her hands dry on a Kleenex and dropping it into the bin on the floor on her side of the bed before she settled down in her favourite position, her head on Harm's shoulder. "No, I rather think the blame for his unexpected appearance can be laid fair and square at the foot of Miss Alexandra Maria Rabb!"

"Umm... would you care to explain that?"

"No,"

"Oh."

Harm leaned across and turned off the lamp on the nightstand, and lay still in the silent darkness for a few minutes.

"Goodnight, sweetheart"

"Goodnight."


	40. A Weighting Game

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 40  
>A Weighting Game<strong>

Harm crouched next to Jen, his hand once more holding her hair away from her face, as she heaved again and again until all she left was bile. With a sigh that to Harm seem to be a mixture of relief and disgust, she sat back on her heels, wiped her mouth with a Kleenex and then sagged sideways against him, seeking and finding comfort as she burrowed her face into his shoulder, and felt his arms embrace her.

"Jen, oh, Jen, what am I going to do with you? I spend all my time in the kitchen making your meals and you just go and flush them down the pan…" Although his words seemed callous, Jen could hear the real concern in his voice, and knew her husband well enough to understand that jokes and seemingly uncaring comments were just his way of coping with feelings that if he let go of them would overwhelm him, and once again she thanked whatever gods there might be that she had not only fallen in love with this man, who could be so strong, and yet so fragile, but that he had, by some miracle fallen in love with her.

"I'm sorry, Harm," she mumbled against his chest, "I'll try and do better tomorrow!" Harm felt Jen shudder in his arms and looking down, he used a finger gently to tip her face up to his, and was relieved to see that she was trying laugh, even if the sound was a pathetically damp attempt at a chuckle.

He dropped a gentle kiss on her forehead, "It's OK, Jen, there's not a whole heap of effort involved in opening a packet of saltines and a bottle of ginger ale!" But he was worried; it had been over a month now since Jen had first started her bouts of morning sickness, and they seemed to be more violent and longer lasting each day. He was pretty sure, although she denied it that despite the growing baby bump she had, in fact lost weight, but his expressed concerns had only had the unfortunate effect of making Jen close down and become defensive. It had taken two nights on the couch and a grovelling apology from him to get her to relent, and then her distress at her own behaviour, which she had labelled as 'unreasonable' had left them both upset and walking on egg-shells around each other for another couple of days.

Things had been so tense between them that it had taken an intervention – at least, that's what she'd called it, Harm characterised it as a chewing out - by an equally worried Loren to bring the two of them back to a stage approaching normality. So it was with no small degree of trepidation that he gently asked, "When's your next OB appointment Jen?"

"Thursday - the day after tomorrow, why?"

"I was thinking of coming along with you…"

"No, Harm, please, it's not necessary… I… I don't want you to…"

"I'm worried, sweetheart."

"I know, and I'm sorry for that too… but I…"

"Why don't you want me to go with you, Jen?"

"I don't know… maybe because you'll fuss, and you'll fret, and you'll ask all sorts of questions… and maybe they'll be questions that I not ready to hear the answers to…"

"Why wouldn't you want to hear the answers, sweetheart? If there's something happening that's not right, then we need to get it fixed…"

Jen tore herself out of his arms and still on her knees shuffled backwards, away from him, and glaring at him through red-rimmed eyes, she impatiently brushed stray strands of hair away from her faced, "Because I'm afraid something _is_ wrong, dammit!" she yelled, "I'm fucking scared - alright! I'm scared! Happy now!"

Harm almost physically reeled back under the double blow. Firstly Jennifer had sworn, something she very rarely did, and certainly never used that word, but more shocking was her admission that she, one of the bravest people he'd ever known, was scared, but even without that admission, the level of fear in her voice would have told him that she was frightened.

Harm's every instinct was to reach out and take Jen back into his arms, but she was kneeling facing him with tension radiating from every pore, and she seemed in that instant to be so brittle that he was almost sure that if he attempted to put his arms around her, she would pull away from him, and he didn't think he could stand that. Tentatively, therefore, he stretched out both hands to her, saying quietly, "It's OK Jen, I'm worried too… but if we don't ask the questions, then we don't get the answers we need…"

"Oh… Harm…" Jen's voice broke and fresh tears coursed down her face, "what if…?"

"If you're so worried, Jen, then we need to address that, not on Thursday, but today… Even if there's nothing wrong, the stress can't be good for our baby. So… while you're in the shower, I'll call in for both of us, and then I'll call Bethesda and arrange for you to be seen today, OK?"

Jen sniffled, "OK," and while part of her was resenting his calm assumption of authority and the right to make decisions, another part of her was revelling in the feeling of comfort and security that his taking charge had evoked.

Harm helped Jen to her feet and once he was satisfied that she was safely in the shower, he headed for the 'phone. Checking the time, he realised it was far too early for anyone senior to be either at Falls Church or in the SecNav's department at the Pentagon, so busied himself with preparing breakfast – such as it was. Jen's needs were easily met, a packet of saltines and a bottle of Ginger ale stood next to her plate, while in deference to her sensitive stomach, he placed two slices of bread in the toaster for himself and boiled the kettle to make his now customary mug of instant coffee.

Breakfast preparations made, Harm returned to the bathroom to shower and shave while Jen was dressing in the bedroom. He found her sitting in front of her dressing table, nude to the waist as she brushed and dried her hair, readying it for braiding. As always he found the sight not only intensely erotic but also mesmerising, and as always Jen seemed to feel his eyes on her; smiling, she caught his eye in the mirror, "See anything you like, sailor?" she asked mischievously.

"Oh… I'm not sure about that," Harm said as he buttoned his shirt, "but I'm pretty sure, I like everything I see!" not bothering to hide the relief he felt at Jen regaining her spirits.

Jen continued watching him in the mirror, and frowned as she realised that he was stepping into his Dress Blues pants, "Are you going Falls Church, after all?" she queried.

Harm paused, his hands on his belt, and looked across at Jen, noticing her frown; he wondered what was worrying her now, "No… I wasn't planning on it, but it's still a tad too early to call either your office, or mine, and just in case something blows up I figured we – or I at least - would be better off in uniform. Why?"

"Isn't it going to be awkward – and maybe dangerous for us to be seen in public, in uniform, as Mr and Mrs Rabb."

"No, I don't see why it should be. After all, we're not the only commissioned and enlisted married couple in the Navy. Not that it's anybody's business, but our own!"

Reassured, Jen blotted her eyes and carried on dressing her hair, while Harm frankly appreciative of the sight she afforded sat on the side of the bed and watched unable to decide which he loved more, the sight of her muscles moving smoothly under her skin, or the bump that to his eyes seemed more and more evident by the day.

Jen could see his reflection in her dressing table mirror, and played the teasing game that she - and he - loved so much; arching her back just a little more than was strictly necessary, and making each stroke of the brush a long, slow, languorous business. This was fun, but the problem was that it turned her on almost as much as it did Harm, and on weekday mornings there just wasn't enough time to indulge themselves in their favourite recreation. Oh crap! Weekday!

"Harm!" she injected a note of urgency into her voice, "Loren! Car-pooling!"

"Crap!" Harm took her meaning instantly and almost leaped off the bed, his uniform jacket in hand and his cover hastily crammed onto his head.

Loren was almost fully dressed, lacking only jacket and cover, when she answered his somewhat peremptory rapping on her door. She took in his slightly dishevelled appearance and coolly cocking her head to one side, she raised one of her expressive eyebrows, "How may I help you, this morning?"

"Jen… she's not too good – no, nothing to panic about," he added hastily as he saw the alarm in her expression, "Well, we hope not. But she's finding this morning sickness very hard, and I think she's lost weight, so I'm taking her up to Bethesda, which means…"

"That we won't be car-pooling this morning?"

Grateful for her quick understanding, Harm smiled, "Yeah, that's about the size of it."

"Not a problem, Harm. I'll just hang on here until the minder arrives, and if you two are still here, I'll pop in just to say hi and bye before I leave."

Harm let go a silent sigh of relief, "Thanks, Loren," he smiled, "That's great!"

"Yeah… well… you'll owe me one!"

"Oh yeah, and no doubt you'll collect!"

"You'd better believe it!" Loren grinned.

Harm returned to the main house to find Jen now fully dressed and morosely chewing on a cracker and taking sips of her ginger ale. "Just so you know," she said petulantly, "this is a crap breakfast!"

"I know, sweetheart, and believe me if you could keep it down, I'd quite happily cook sausage and bacon, just so you could enjoy it!"

"Oh… Harm… don't… I'd die for some crispy fried Canadian bacon, but I know if I tried to eat some, I wouldn't keep it down for half an hour. So, I know you're trying to be kind, but please, don't mention anything like that!"

Harm grinned sympathetically, "OK, I won't. But could you manage a cup of tea, and maybe a slice of dry toast?"

Jen was about to say no, when she remembered how concerned he'd been over what he thought was her weight loss, so she forced a tired smile, and replied, "OK, the tea sounds good, but just one slice of toast please? And I promise I'll try to do better at lunch-time!"

Harm served Jen her tea and toast, and after a glance at his watch, moved over to the 'phone and dialled the familiar number.

"_Judge Advocate General's Office, Yeoman One Tiner, sir."_

"Tiner, this is Commander Rabb. Is the Admiral free?"

"_Good morning, sir. No, he's out of the office for the morning, sir. Can I take a message_?"

"Umm… No, no thank you. Is the Colonel in yet?"

"_Yessir. Shall I put you through_?"

"Yes, thanks."

"_MacKenzie,_" His friend's voice came on the line.

"Mac, hi, it's Rabb, just a heads up to let you know I'm going to be late this morning."

"_Problem_?"

"Yeah, slight one. Jen's feeling a bit off, we don't think it's anything serious, but better safe than sorry – so I'm taking her up to see her OB."

"_OK. Is there anything likely to crop up that you'd need to deal with this morning_?"

"No… I don't think so… I'm scheduled to take a deposition this afternoon at fourteen hundred – Lieutenant Martinelli on that SH allegation from the Pentagon. I should be back for that, but if not, I'll call and get Tiner to cancel, and let you know."

"_OK Harm."_ Mac paused for a few seconds, "_Tell Jen I hope that everything's OK, please_?"

"Yeah, I'll do that. And Mac?"

"_Yeah?"_

"Thanks."

"_G'wan, Squid, go look after your wife_!"

Harm grinned at the teasing note in Mac's voice, "I'll do that," he said before he broke the connection and quickly flicked through the card index, pulling the necessary card half-way out of the box, he dialled the second number.

"_Office of the SecNav, Personnelman Two Hartmann, sir._"

"Good Morning, this is Commander Rabb, calling on behalf of Legalman One Rabb. Could you take a message for Commander Manetti, please?"

"_Certainly, sir. One moment please_." A few seconds' silence followed, "_Sir? Go ahead please_."

"Just tell Commander Manetti that Legalman One Rabb is having a slight problem, and that I'm taking her to see her OB this morning."

"_Yes, sir. Sir, Jen's OK, isn't she_?"

"Yes, she's just a little bit pulled, and I reckon that some reassurance from her doctor'll stop her stressing too much."

"_Oh, that's good. Give her my best, sir_?"

"Of course I will, Angela, and thank you!"

"_Nothing to thank me for, sir. Goodbye, sir_!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm waited until Jen had seated herself in the Lexus' front passenger seat and had fastened her seat-belt before closing her door and then walking around to the driver's side, and climbing in behind the wheel. Jen glanced across at him, despite Doctor Robbins' reassurances he still had a troubled look on his face.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" she asked, "You're still not happy, are you?"

He grinned wryly as he turned the key in the ignition, "I just can't get my head around how you losing that much weight is 'normal and nothing to worry about', it just doesn't seem right."

Jen shook her head in mild exasperation. "Look, apart from the nausea, which I'll just have to fight through", she pulled a face of discontent, "and the weight loss – and yes, you were right about that, and yes, I was in slight denial – everything else checks out just fine. The baby's in the right position, she's the right size and weight, there are no indications of any abnormality, and you heard what Doctor Robbins told us, the baby is a parasite that won't let anything interfere with its growth, so it's taking what it needs from me. I'll just have to try and eat a little more, plenty of carbs – you know, pasta, and things like that. And much as it grieves you, a little more protein." Jen paused to let Harm take on board what she'd said before continuing, "There was only one thing that I didn't like…"

"What was that?" he demanded shooting an anxious glance across at her as he pulled up at a stop sign before turning out of the parking lot.

"The sonogram," Jen kept her eyes averted so he wouldn't see how they twinkled with laughter, "The gel they use – it's damn' cold!"

It took a couple of seconds for Jen's teasing to break through Harm's brooding, but he gave a crack of laughter, "You are bad!" he complained, but somehow Jen's nonsense had lifted a shadow from his heart.

"So… are you going in for the rest of the day?" he asked.

Jen looked at him in surprise, "Of course I'm going in; I'm not ill – just having a baby!"

"OK, we'll drop by the house…" he glanced at the clock on the dash-board, "grab a sandwich for early lunch, and then you can pick up your car, so it'll make life easier for you rather than having to wait for me this evening!"

Jen nodded with satisfaction, "Sounds like a plan!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm walked into the bull-pen at just gone 1330 hours, cheerfully whistling "Anchors Aweigh", as he headed for his office. Just as he reached for the door handle Loren, who had been waiting for him cut across the centre of the bull-pen and called out, "Sir?"

Harm turned, "Lieutenant?"

"Everything OK with Legalman One Rabb?" Loren asked a faint shadow of concern visible in her eyes.

"Yes, everything's good, and normal, apparently even her weight loss is 'normal' and within acceptable limits!" Harm replied entering his office and placing his cover on the bookshelf just inside the door. Taking his seat he noted that Loren was still in the doorway, "Come in, Lieutenant, and take the weight off your feet," he invited her, indicating one of the two visitors' chairs the opposite side of his desk.

Loren obediently sat, carefully smoothing her skirt beneath her as she did, "But you're not really convinced are you?" she suggested.

Harm fiddled with his pen – a Law School Graduation Present from Frank – before he answered, "I'm trying to be positive… but, well, it just seems counter-intuitive to me. Jen is pregnant, the baby is beginning to show, so you'd expect that with another person inside her, she'd put on weight, but she's fifteen pounds lighter now than she was when she had her first OB appointment!"

"Sir, what would you say to a Doctor, who tried to second-guess you in the courtroom?" Loren asked demurely, but with a glint of laughter in her eyes.

"Point taken, counsellor!" Harm grinned, "and, Loren?"

She looked at him inquisitively.

"Thanks!"

"My pleasure, sir!"

Harm nodded, expecting the blonde officer to excuse herself, but Loren stayed seated, fiddling with the file folder on her lap. "Was there something else, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir." Loren paused while Harm's eyebrow started a climb towards his hairline, "Umm.. it's this…" she finally said, proffering the file, "It's from the Fairfax County Court, Harm." The use of his name in the office was a signal that something unusual was happening.

Harm ignored the file for the moment, "Go on," he gently encouraged her.

"These papers arrived in the mail this morning. The court has approved my petition." She gulped, "With effect from midnight last night, I am no longer Loren Singer, I'm legally now Loren Rabb." She gazed at him in some trepidation. Sure, he'd been supportive of the idea when it was first mooted, but now theory had become fact.

Harm stood, an action copied by Loren, and then in three swift strides he was around his desk, extending both hands towards her, he smiled, "Congratulations Loren!"

Loren dropped the file she was holding onto his desk and reaching out her own hands she took hold of his and they smiled at each other. "If we were at home right now," he told her, still smiling, "I'd hug the breath right out of you, but," he glanced deprecatingly at their joined hands, "because we're here, and in uniform, this is the best I can do. But never doubt that I am so proud and pleased that you chose us!"

Loren's smile was equally open, "But I didn't choose you," she argued, "Your family chose me, and Trish made me realise that when she told me so in no uncertain terms. I don't know whatever I did to deserve such good friends, but I'm glad that I found you all!"

A cough from the doorway reminded them that they were still in a public place, and so it was almost guiltily that they dropped each other's hands and turned towards the interloper.

"Is there something you'd care to share, Commander? Lieutenant?" Mac asked frostily.

For a moment Harm felt a flash of anger, why is it he asked himself that people are so quick to assume the worst, but realising that becoming defensive would be the worst thing he could do under the circumstances, he nodded, "Lieutenant Singer was just sharing some personal good news with me, and I was congratulating her."

Mac's eyes shot from Harm to Loren, "And would you care to share with me, Lieutenant?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am, I certainly will!" Loren responded, still riding the wave of the euphoria that Harm's unconditional acceptance of her changed status had induced, "But, with all due respect ma'am, it is something I need to tell the Admiral first."

Mac wasn't entirely sure whether Loren was being truthful or was just running a bluff, "Well, the Admiral is back in his office, there's no time like the present, is there Lieutenant?"

"None at all, ma'am," Loren agreed with a smile, "If I may be excused?"

"Carry on Lieutenant," Mac dismissed the junior officer.

Harm joined Mac at his office door and together they watched the younger woman cross the bull pen and enter Tiner's cubicle, where after a short delay she opened the door to the JAG's inner sanctum.

"You were a bit harsh there, Mac," Harm reproached her.

"Well, it did look a bit… odd, seeing the two of you stood there holding hands and gazing into each other's eyes!" Mac defended herself.

Harm looked at his partner in astonishment, "For f.. for God's sake, Mac, do you really think, that I would betray Jen, and with our friend, Loren?"

Mac looked him in the eyes, searching for any signs of subterfuge, but she knew Harm too well. Too well to be deceived by words or even deeds, but there was nothing but truth in his eyes. "No," she sighed, "No, I don't believe that for an instant. But Harm, you know as well as I that even just the appearance of impropriety can be enough…"

"Yeah," he conceded reluctantly, "especially in a rumour mill like this place!"

"Exactly!" Mac agreed, as she followed him into his office, thankful that he hadn't taken offence. "But sometimes, Squid, you're your own worst enemy."

"Oh, how so?"

"Harm, don't fly up into the boughs, but you and Jen were damn lucky that the Admiral didn't raise fraternisation charges against you, and your living arrangements are pushing the parameters of what is permissible under Navy Regulations about sharing accommodation, and then there's the fact that you and Loren come into work together three or four days out of each five." She held up a hand to forestall any objection, "Look, you've told me that everything between you is on the level, and of course I believe you. But there are others who could twist an innocent gesture of friendship and make it into something very ugly."

Harm again had to bite his tongue to prevent an angry outburst, and took a few seconds to consider what Mac, his long-time best friend was saying to him. "OK, I know you're only expressing concern, but be honest Mac, have you heard anything that might indicate that people are being malicious?"

"No… no, I haven't heard anything… it's just… well, be careful, won't you, squid?"

"I will." He smiled across his desk at her, "And, Mac?"

She looked back across her shoulder as she neared the door.

"Thanks, Marine."

"De nada!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The Admiral sat back in the Big Chair and steepled his fingers as he watched Lieutenant Singer cross the carpeted expanse of his office and halt precisely in front of his desk. Sighing inwardly, he wondered what JAG's problem child wanted, or had done this time. Although… to be fair to her, the Lieutenant's attitude had changed considerably since her return from maternity leave; she even seemed to be getting along with Harriet Sims, the black eye incident seemingly forgiven – if not forgotten by both parties.

"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?" he asked, trying his hardest to maintain a level tone.

"Sir, I've come to inform you of a change in my status, sir," Loren answered, still at attention and with her gaze fixed on a spot approximately two feet above the Admiral's head.

Well, that was something new – and unexpected! The Admiral sat forward, his gaze now even more intent. "Explain, please Lieutenant."

"Sir, on my return from maternity leave, I petitioned the Court to have my name legally changed," Loren decided upon the short version, deciding that even though he was her CO, A J Chegwidden didn't need to know all of the process, just the results. But if she had suddenly announced that she was now the President of the United States, Chegwidden couldn't have been more dumbstruck.

Fighting to regain his composure, and some measure of control over his vocal cords, he finally managed to stutter, "Ch… changed your… na… name, legally?

"Yes, sir!"

"And what is your 'new' name, Lieutenant?"

"Sir, with effect from midnight last night, my legal name is Loren Rabb."

Chegwidden blinked. He certainly hadn't seen that one coming! "At ease, Lieutenant… take a seat."

He waited until the blonde officer had complied with his invitation, and then chuckled, "Well, one of the benefits – from my perspective - of having Legalman One Rabb re-assigned, was the comfort of knowing that I wouldn't have to cope with two Rabbs in the same office! But, you've just scuppered that!"

"Sir?"

"No… nothing to worry about Lieutenant, I have no intention of re-assigning you, I was just being a tad… whimsical."

The idea of the gruff former SEAL indulging in whimsy was almost too much for Loren's heightened emotions to cope with, "Sir?" her voice quavered on the edge of laughter.

"Dammit, Lieutenant – it's not that strange a concept to grasp!" he protested, correctly interpreting his subordinate's frame of mind and fighting his own inclination to grin.

"No, sir, sorry sir!" Loren replied, biting hard on her tongue.

Chegwidden leaned back in his chair, "So… what brought this on, Lieutenant? Am I to suppose from the timing that it has something to do with the birth of your child?"

"Yes, sir, very much so."

Chegwidden nodded, unless he could get his officer to open up to him, this was going to be like pulling teeth. "So… why Rabb, if I remember correctly, you denied that the Commander is the father?"

Loren blushed, "No, sir, the Commander is not my child's father."

Chegwidden nodded, "And talking of your daughter, how is she?"

Loren did smile now, like any new mom, she couldn't resist talking about her baby, "She gorgeous sir, and thriving, doing very well."

Chegwidden nodded again, allowing himself one of genuine but tight-lipped smile, "So… Alexandra Maria isn't it?"

"Yes sir!"

"And, again, if I recall correctly, it is the Commander's brother that's the father, but isn't his name Zhukov, or something similar?"

Loren's eyes clouded over, "Yes, sir, it is. I really screwed up there, sir. I thought… well… it doesn't matter what I thought at the time. But in hindsight it wasn't going to work, no matter how we played it."

"Why would that be?" Chegwidden's voice was gentle.

Loren shrugged, "Different cultures, different world views, the difference in our ages… he was… is nearly thirteen years younger than I am sir. So when he found out I was pregnant, he panicked, I think, and told me I was on my own."

"But that still doesn't quite explain the choice of name, Lieutenant."

Loren smiled and her eyes took on a distant look, "It was the Commander's family, sir. When I was lost, struggling financially and at my wit's end, they took me in, they gave me a roof over my head, and they looked after me through the last weeks of my pregnancy… the Commander's step-father even held my hand during delivery. And then they were all so good to me afterwards… the Commander's grandmother… she made me realise that no matter what the Commander's brother called himself, he was a Rabb, I was the mother of a Rabb, and deserved the name too… and she invited me to change my name and become a member of the family…"

Chegwidden nodded again; as Loren was speaking he had conceived the suspicion that a good part of her decision to change her name sprang from her desire to belong. She had always been an outsider, separate from the pseudo-family of Jag, and seemingly not knowing how to integrate or 'play nice' with others, and while seemingly content with her self-defined role, he had on occasion seen a wistful look in her eyes as others had celebrated minor success. Even when she attended social functions outside work, she had seemed to be a tag along rather than an integral part of the team, and it had seemed to him that even while she resisted friendly overtures from others that she also desperately wanted to belong. Now it seemed that she had let down her defences, or they had been overwhelmed, and she had found a group of people who would accept her and support her.

"You realise, Lieutenant, that BUPERS are going to have a fit over this?"

"It won't do them any harm to some work for a change, will it sir?"

"No, Lieutenant" Chegwidden chuckled, "I don't suppose it will. I'll have Tiner get hold of the necessary documentation for you, and we'll get this ball rolling ASAP! Now, was there anything else I can help you with?"

Recognising a dismissal, even one couched in such an informal manner, Loren stood, coming to attention, "No, sir. Nothing else. Thank you!"

"Very well, just one thing more, though, did you wish to have a formal announcement made?"

Loren's eyes lit up with mischief, "No sir, I have an idea or two of my own!"

"As do I Lieutenant, as do I," Chegwidden cautioned her, "Dismissed!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Loren crossed the bull-pen to the disposition board, which showed what duty each attorney had for each day. Taking down her nameplate (with her old name) from the two hooks that supported it, and carelessly dropping it into a nearby waste basket, she picked up the dry marker and in the space between the hooks, she printed in careful capital letters, '_LT L Rabb'_, and with a secret smile of satisfaction she turned towards the Chief of Staff's Office.

Rapping smartly on the door jamb, Loren waited for Mac to bid her to enter, and then stepped into the chaos that was Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie's domain. Unable to prevent herself, Loren gave a little sniff of disdain as she compared the files scattered haphazardly across every available surface with the almost obsessive neatness of her own little cubby hole.

Neither the sniff, nor the accompanying raised eyebrow escaped Mac's notice, and she felt herself bristling. "How may I help you, Lieutenant?" she demanded.

"Oh… you can't ma'am," Loren replied smiling complacently, "But, now that I have informed the Admiral of my good news, as promised, I've come to share it with you."

Mac was slightly surprised; she hadn't really expected Lieutenant Singer to keep her word, but… "Well, go on the Lieutenant, don't keep me in suspense."

"Very well, ma'am. I wish to inform you that with effect from midnight last night, my legal name is Loren Rabb. I have informed the Admiral of this, and that steps are being taken to update my records!"

Mac sat stunned behind her desk, totally speechless. Loren waited for a few seconds for a visible reaction, but with none forthcoming, her smile broadened and she said, "If you'll excuse me, ma'am."

Crossing the bull-pen to her office Loren was aware of the gathering at the dispositions board as the scuttlebutt machine went into overdrive and the bull pen's population rushed to verify the to them incredible news.

As the impact of the story spread the bull-pen became quiet, and then as the news was absorbed, the level of noise rose to almost unprecedented heights, bringing both Mac and Harm to the doors of their respective offices, it also brought Petty Officer Yeoman First Class Tiner to the door of his cubicle, and while he realised that something unusual had taken place, he was still the ranking enlisted man in JAG Ops, and, having absorbed more than he realised from the example set by Gunnery Sergeant Galindez, the currently on TAD Admin NCO, he wasn't about to let things escalate to this degree. His voice rang out above the hubbub, "Ten-hut!"

A silence fell on the bull-pen as its denizens froze. Tiner spoke again, "I don't know what's going on, and I don't care. What I care about is that you are not being paid to goof off! Now, back to your desks – all of you!"

Harm exchanged a look with Mac, "Gunny taught him well!"

Mac grinned, "Yeah – Oorah, Gunny!" Her face took on a slightly troubled look, "Harm, we need to talk…"

Harm looked back at her, "Yeah, you're probably right… but I've just got Lieutenant Martinelli in my office… can we do it later?"

Mac nodded, "OK, but don't leave it too late!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm turned back into his office and closed the door behind him, making sure that the blinds were open before he took his seat. "Now, Lieutenant Martinelli, what did you want to talk about?"

The attractive officer in the visitor's chair glanced down at her cover on her lap. She reminded Harm – physically, at any rate of Skates, or maybe… and he cast his mind back five or so years, Lieutenant Schiparelli – the same Mediterranean look, with olive skin and dark hair. Although the officer waiting to speak to him was he guessed about ten years younger than Skates, and five years or so younger from the New York cabbie turned naval officer.

"Sexual harassment, sir!" The New York accent was plain to the ear, reinforcing Harm's comparison of his current visitor with Schiparelli.

"You're being harassed, Lieutenant?"

"Yessir!"

"What form does this harassment take?" Harm at this stage deliberately refrained from asking the name of the alleged perpetrator, because even if the accusation turned out to be groundless, the stigma attached to accused's name could, and probably would, be a career killer.

Lucia Martinelli looked Harm straight in the eye, "Quid pro quo, sir. A demand for sexual favours in return for 'career counselling', sir!" The contempt in her voice was unmistakable.

"So… we are looking at a senior officer, here…"

"Yessir!"

"Now…" Harm looked at his notes, "You are a Cryptographer, correct? And you work in the DoN's Comm Centre at the Pentagon?"

"Yessir!"

"And the officer against whom you are making these accusations is a senior officer in Comm or Cryptology?"

"No, sir – he's one of you. A JAG!"

Harm looked across his desk. "Are you quite, quite sure about this Lieutenant?"

"How do you mean, sir? Am I quite sure I was sexually harassed? Yes sir. I am!"

"Well, that was partly what I meant. But also are you sure you want to go though with this. If it comes to trial, it could lay your personal history wide open for everyone to see."

"Yessir! I'm sure of that too, sir!""

"Lieutenant, I'll be totally open with you. The navy has a zero-tolerance policy toward sexual harassment, and quite rightly so. But the flip side of the coin is that the navy also takes a very dim view of false accusations on this matter – precisely because of the damage even an unfounded allegation can inflict on a career. Because of that, the navy is… reluctant to start proceedings where it boils down to a he said/she said scenario. Apart from your word, do you have any evidence that will support you?

Martinelli's face grew grim, "You're all alike, aren't you. Sir?" she spat out as she got to her feet.

"Sit down, Lieutenant! We're not done here!" Harm barked at her.

For long moments Martinelli stood glaring at him and Harm steadily returned her glare, before she sighed and sat down again.

Harm nodded, and resumed in a normal conversational tone, "Look Lieutenant, yours is not the first such case I've handled, but if you'd feel more comfortable with a female attorney, then I could pass the case over to one."

Martinelli considered, "No, sir. I'll stick with you, if that's OK. I've heard you're the best… and… I'm sorry for losing my temper, sir."

"Not to worry about that Lieutenant… I'd have been far less willing to continue with the case if you hadn't gotten upset."

"You were testing me?" she demanded incredulously.

"No, not intentionally." He saw the lingering doubt in her face, "I promise you, Lieutenant that was not a deliberate test. Now, as I was saying, did you keep a record of any meetings between yourself and this officer, or are there any other witnesses that might have seen inappropriate behaviour or heard inappropriate comments?"

Martinelli paused for thought. "No sir, no witnesses. I did make entries in my journal when he made his suggestions… but I've heard scuttlebutt that I'm not the only one he's propositioned…"

"H'mm… Can you provide any names?"

"Uh… Lieutenant Toranama, then there was an Ensign Pearson, who requested an early transfer out, and I think there have even been some enlisted he's propositioned."

Harm made a note of the names and sighed, disgusted that even in today's navy there were still men who did not get the message. "Alright Lieutenant. If you are absolutely certain you want to take this all the way, then I'll be with you every step, but I warn you, it could get pretty ugly out there."

"I want to do this sir. He made me feel cheap… and when I turned him down… well for a moment or two, I thought he was going to… well, let's say, I just saw what I thought was an enormous potential for violence."

Harm groaned silently, this was just getting better and better. "Well, the only other thing I need from you for the moment, Lieutenant is his name…"

"Commander Ted Lindsey, sir."


	41. That's What Friends Are For

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 41  
>That's What Friends Are For…<strong>

Harm was distinctly unhappy, there were multiple reasons for his state of mind, but only one cause. The sexual harassment charge brought against Commander Ted Lindsey by a very angry Lieutenant Lucia Martinelli.

As he'd advised Martinelli, a he said/she said case, although it might place a question mark in Lindsey's Service Record, was unlikely to lead anywhere, and might also place a similar query on her own record, but she had proffered the names of two officers that might be willing to come forward and corroborate her testimony. Lieutenant Toranama was still in her billet at the Pentagon, but several attempts to reach her by phone had apparently failed, she was 'unavailable', if she had received any of his messages, he thought bitterly, her lack of response suggested she was unlikely to turn out to be a helpful witness.

Ensign – now Lieutenant (jg) Pearson had indeed transferred out and was now on the staff of COMPACFLEET at Pearl Harbour, and again attempts to contact her by telephone had proved fruitless.

His mood was not improved by the sight of David Medwick's truck parked outside the house. He liked Tuna, and he wished him well in his pursuit of Loren, but he was not really in the mood for company this evening. All he wanted to do was to eat a light dinner and curl up on the couch and cuddle his beautiful, pregnant wife, make an early night of it, and if all went well wake up to a nausea-free morning.

Dismounting from the SUV, he used the remote button on the fob to lock it, and waited the couple of seconds it took for the lights to flash to show that the mechanism had engaged, and walked up the flagstone path to the front door.

It was obvious that Jen had beaten him home by a considerable margin, her cover was on the lobby table and her purse shoved carelessly underneath it. Tossing his cover to join hers on the table he walked through the living room, bypassing the dining room, straight into den, where he slotted his cell phone into the recharger before going through to the kitchen where he found Jen wrapped in his bathrobe, a towel wrapped around her head and her feet shoved into her tattered old Garfield slippers.

Hearing him enter she turned and stood hipshot, one hand resting on the table top and the other propped on her hip, a broad grin on her face as she murmured in a throaty stage-French accent "'Ullo, sailor…"

Crossing the room he slipped an arm around her waist as Jen raised her face for his kiss. "Hello, my beautiful wife…" then he looked at her again, realising that she wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing under the bathrobe, and frowned "Didn't I see Tuna's truck outside…?"

"Oh, yeah," Jen twinkled at him,

"Well, where is he, and shouldn't you be wearing…"

"Harmon Rabb! You're a prude!" she accused him.

"I am not. It's just that I don't really want my wife to walk around in front of my friends, dressed only in a…"

"Cool your jets, sailor!" Jen giggled, "Tuna isn't here to gawp at me! He's down at the Ranch House, gawping at Sasha, and sneaking glances at Loren too, if I'm any judge!"

"Oh…" Harm replied, feeling remarkably foolish, "well… that's OK then…" but then his eyes narrowed again and the frown reappeared on his face, "Are we expecting them to join us?"

"No… I don't think so, Tuna had a couple of take-out bags with him, I think, so I guess he's persuaded Loren to share with him… and then by the time they've eaten, Loren's fed Sasha and put her down, it'll be too late for visiting. So…" Jen's voice dropped to a throaty murmur, as she pressed against him and fiddled with one of his shirt buttons, "It looks like I've got my handsome sailor all to myself this evening…"

Harm drew a deep breath, all of sudden his collar seemed too tight, and he succumbed to the urge to run a finger around the inside of it, "I… I'll just go and… and grab a quick shower and get changed into something a bit… more comfortable, and then I'll come down and start dinner."

"You do that, sailor," Jen purred as she let him go and leaned back against the kitchen table, letting the robe drop off of one shoulder.

"Yeah… yeah… I'll do that…" Harm backed away from Jen, unable to take his eyes off her as she twisted slightly, exposing all of one leg up to her hip as the skirt of the bathrobe fell away.

Harm stood head back and eyes closed, under the sting hot needles of water as they washed away the grime, perspiration and stresses of the day, and as the glass-walled cubicle filled with steam he indulged in the conceit that he was damn' lucky having a shower and sauna all-in-one. His thoughts were disturbed by a gust of cooler air and two soft arms wrapping themselves around his torso, while a pair of even softer lips pressed themselves onto his shoulder and he felt teeth graze gently on his skin.

Twisting around he looked down into Jen's laughing eyes, "If you don't stop this and get out of this shower immediately," he warned her in stern tones, "dinner is going to be very, very, late…"

Jen reached up to drag his head down to her level and kissed him long and lovingly, "Screw dinner," she told him when she broke the kiss and then giggled, "And screw…"

Harm stopped her from completing whatever she was about to say by the simple expedient of kissing her, while with one hand he turned off the water, and then kicking the shower stall door open, he swept a protesting Jen up into his arms and carried her, both of them dripping wet, to their bed.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm propped himself on an elbow, his free hand idly tracing a circuit of Jen's baby bump as lying on her back, bonelessly relaxed she relished his gentle touch. He leaned down and dropped a gentle kiss on her forehead, "We are going to have to get up," he reminded her.

"H'mm?"

"Umm… There's still dinner to get, and then there's your blouse and my shirt, and two pairs of shoes…."

"I said screw dinner…" Jen reminded him.

"I know you did… but that was before we depleted our energy levels…"

"Am I getting too much for you, old man?" Jen teased him.

"Not a bit," he denied, mock-glaring at her, "But our daughter needs you to eat, and you're not doing breakfasts, I don't know what – if anything you're eating for lunch these days, so the only meal I know you're eating is dinner! So… c'mon, Mrs Rabb, get your adorable six out of bed, get some clothes on and come and give me a hand in the kitchen."

Jen pouted, "Aw… do I have to?" she whined, knowing full well the effect of her pout had on Harm.

Harm fought a brief battle with himself, and to his relief managed a win – this time. "Yes, you do have to!" he told her, with a triumphant grin.

"Oh… alright then," Jen conceded in a crestfallen voice, but with laughter dancing in her glorious deep brown eyes, "but only 'cos you called me that name I love…"

Harm paused in the act of pulling on a T-shirt, "What name was that?" he asked, trying but failing to keep a suggestion of suspicion out of his voice.

"'Mrs Rabb'" Jen answered gleefully.

Harm's mega-watt grin broke out across his face, "Yeah, I kinda like that one too…"

"M 'mm… I thought you might," Jen answered, her eyes cast down demurely.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen critically looked at her freshly ironed blouse, and deciding that it would pass muster, she draped it carefully on a hanger which she hooked over the top of the kitchen door, and picking up Harm's shirt, she laid it over the ironing board, but before picking up the iron she looked across the kitchen to where Harm was gently stirring the three mushroom sauce destined to accompany the pasta which was boiling in a second pan.

"Speaking of uniforms," she said.

"I wasn't," Harm replied.

"Well, I am!" Jennifer said, this time with a challenge in her voice.

Harm raised an eyebrow and with an exaggeratedly courtly gesture with his wooden spoon, he indicated that he was ceding her the floor.

"H'mph! Well, by my reckoning I've only got another week left before I won't fit into my Summer Whites any more…" Jen paused, stifling a giggle as she observed the wary expression on Harm's face. "So… from next week, I'll need to start wearing my white maternity uniform."

Harm's forehead creased in a puzzled frown, "I didn't think you had any maternity uniforms yet?"

"I don't," Jen smiled triumphantly, "And that's why you're taking me to the Base Exchange on Saturday, so that you can buy me a couple of sets!"

Harm gave her a withering look but then a reluctant grin spread across his face. "I walked right into that, didn't I?" he acknowledged.

Jen grinned unrepentantly, "Oh, yeah!" she exclaimed, as she picked up the iron and turned her attention to his shirt.

The next few minutes passed in a comfortable silence until Harm spoke again, "You about done there, sweetheart?"

"Just about, why?"

"'Cos, I'm just about ready to serve up…"

"Thirty seconds," Jen promised, as Harm reached into one of the over-sink cabinets and retrieved two tumblers.

"Drink?" he asked

"Cider?" Jen asked in reply, hanging the shirt on the door next to her blouse, and then unplugging the iron from the wall outlet.

"M'mm… that was good!" Jen enthused some twenty minutes later as she dabbed her lips with a napkin, "but not quite the same as normal?"

"No… I reduced the amount of paprika and added just a hint of garlic."

"Yeah… I thought the quality of the bite had changed…"

"Well, given your tender tummy…" Harm left the thought unfinished as he gathered the plates and rinsed them under the faucet before stacking them in the dishwasher.

Jen nodded, the less aggravation her stomach received the better she'd feel. "Tea?" she asked.

"Yep, any preference?"

"Raspberry leaf?" Jen suggested.

"Coming right up! Why don't you go and wait in the living room, and I'll bring it through."

Harm paused in the doorway, even dressed in a pair of his jogging bottoms – the waistband was more comfortable for Jen's increasing girth, - and with the cuffs rolled half-way up her legs and one of his old T-shirts, she was still beautiful. Of, course, he admitted to himself, he was biased, but in his opinion Jen would look beautiful in a gunny sack.

"No TV tonight?" her queried as he placed the two steaming mugs of tea on the coasters.

"No… I just thought I'd have a cuddle and a quiet talk with my husband," Jen replied lazily. Squirming her way under his arm as he sat down beside her.

"Anything in particular you want to talk about?"

"Oh… life, the universe, and everything…"

"Ah, I see…'To talk of many things: Of shoes, and ships and sealing-wax, Of cabbages, and kings And why the sea is boiling hot, And whether pigs have wings'." Harm said airily.

Jen craned her neck to look up at him and gave him a distinctly old-fashioned look, "Yeah, I suppose so…"

"Well, we know that pigs have wings," Harm said seriously.

"We do?" Jen asked in some surprise.

"Yeah, of course we do, they're all over your cream PJ's, little pink pigs with white wings!"

"Oh… yeah, that's true," Jen nodded sagely in agreement, "But is the sea really boiling hot?"

Harm had an instant of flashback to two years ago, when a control systems failure had forced him and Skates to eject over the Atlantic in the middle of one of the most intense storms in recorded history, and he shuddered, "No… I think we can safely say Mr Carroll got that one wrong!" he said decidedly.

Jen nodded again, almost able to read his mind and quickly changing the subject she said, "But was he wrong about shoes?"

"Lots and lots of them?" Harm teased her, "Comfortable ones?"

"Yeah," Jen said, intrigued by the sudden note of amusement in his voice, "But where…?"

"Oh, it's something that a friend of mine – a female friend – once said…"

"Mac?"

Harm studied Jen's face for a few seconds, searching for any sign of jealousy, and finding none, he breathed an inward sigh of relief, "Yeah, she once told me that all a woman really wants is a good man, a good career and comfortable shoes – lots and lots of them!"

"H'mmm… well, if we're swapping 'Mac' stories… Do you remember that first Christmas, when you parked me at Mac's apartment overnight?"

"I'm not likely to forget that Jen! Not ever!"

"Well, Mac asked me what I wanted out of life, besides staying out of jail… I told her, a job I like, a good man, and a couple of kids, but that two out of three would be good. She asked me if I knew what that made me, I said no. She just looked at me and said 'just like the rest of us'. Well, now I've done better than that, I've definitely got my two out of three, and," she patted her bump, "I'm definitely working on the third!"

Harm unaccountably felt his eyes prickle as Jen told her story, and using a long forefinger he tilted her face up to meet his as he bent his head and kissed her thoroughly. Jen responded enthusiastically as he turned sideways to face her on the couch, his free hand sliding up her thigh to her hip and onwards up her ribs towards her breast, when they were dragged back to the here and now by the imperative summons of a 'phone.

"Damn!" Harm swore as he recognised the ring tone of his JAG issued 'phone, "I'm going to have to get that!"

"Ohhh!" Jen gritted in frustration as Harm left her and disappeared into the den, to re-emerge a few seconds later his 'phone pressed to his ear.

"Rabb."

"_Commander Rabb?"_

"Yes, this is he!"

"_Sir, I'm sorry to call you so late, but I've only just got your message. This is Lieutenant (jg) Pearson at Pearl."_

"Lieutenant, thank you for calling back. I need your help on a case."

"_A case, sir?"_

"Yes, I'm with the JAG Corps, and I'm investigating certain serious allegations of misconduct."

"_I don't see how I can help you, sir."_

"Lieutenant, are you acquainted with a Commander Lindsey of the SecNav's office?"

The phone remained almost silent, but Harm could hear a sharp intake of breath from Lieutenant Pearson,

"Lieutenant?"

"_Yes, I'm still here, sir."_

"Do you know Commander Lindsey, Lieutenant?"

"_I don't think I can help you with this, sir."_

"That's not the information I've received, Lieutenant."

"_Really, sir… I won't… I can't help."_ Harm frowned, suddenly the voice on the other of the 'phone seemed to be on the verge of tears.

Harm tried to make his voice as gentle and as encouraging as he could, "Lieutenant, even from the little I have discovered so far, there seems to be a pattern of behaviour that has been established for some time. I understand that you're distressed by whatever happened to you, but you can help stop it happening to other young women in the future. Just like if someone in the past had spoken up, whatever happened to you would have been stopped."

_"No, sir… I'm sorry… I can't…_" The click and buzz of a disconnected line told Harm that the young officer in Hawaii had terminated the call. With a bleak expression on his face, Harm's frustration spilled out in an expletive, "Shit!" as he tossed the 'phone carelessly into one of the armchairs.

"Well, that sure put a stop to the party mood!" Jen said ruefully, as pulled herself to her feet. "Another cup of tea?" she asked Harm, "Or something a bit stronger?"

"H'mm? Oh, no. No, tea's fine, thank you."

Harm slumped back into the couch, his arms stretched along the back and his head thrown back against the squabs, as he considered his next move.

Jennifer placed the two mugs of fresh tea on the coasters and sat down beside him, her elbows on her knees and her hands loosely clasped in front of her. "Uh… I know you might not be able to talk about it, Harm… but this Commander Lindsey thing…" she let her voice trail off, leaving an invitation for Harm to respond.

"Yeah?" he asked carefully.

"It wouldn't have anything to do with fraternisation or sexual harassment, would it?"

"It might," he admitted cautiously, "Why?" and then it seemed that the other shoe had dropped, "Jen! He hasn't… I mean you haven't… he didn't try to…"

"No, no!" she interrupted him before he blew out his safety valve, "Not me… but if it is sexual harassment, you might want to talk to Angela Hartmann… and to Loren…" she finished unhappily.

"Oh, crap!" he groaned.

"What's wrong?" Jen asked.

"The timing!" he answered, further mystifying Jen.

"The what?"

"I forgot to tell you – and it's all your fault for distracting me when I got in…" Jen giggled, "But Loren got her papers from the Court this morning. Since midnight last she's legally been Loren Rabb!"

"But that's wonderful!" Jen disagreed.

"Yes, it would be… except that the assumption is she is now related to me – to us, and it means that either I can't use her testimony, or I'll have to recuse myself from the case and hand it off to someone else."

"Would that be such a bad thing?" Jen wondered.

"Yes… the officer who made the initial complaint made it to me, not to JAG, but to me, because she had faith in me and my convictions. How can I now got to her and say that after she's had the courage to come forward, I can't handle the case?"

Jen shrugged, "So… don't use Loren's testimony, just don't bring her name up in court…"

Harm looked at her in consternation, "Jen, what part of the 'whole truth' do you not understand?"

"Damn! But seriously, Harm. If you have compelling evidence from other witnesses…?"

"That's just it. There's that Lieutenant in Pearl I was just speaking with, and the original complainant. There's another officer at the Pentagon. But she's not returned any of my calls…"

"Angela did say that she thought there were a couple of sailors at the Pentagon who might have been approached by Lindsey…" Jen said thoughtfully

"How did this subject of conversation come up, anyway?" Harm asked.

"Oh… it was a few weeks ago, just after I'd started at the SecNav's office. Angela and I were having lunch and Commander Lindsey stopped by our table to introduce himself – he'd been TDY somewhere, and Angela warned me not to let him get too close."

"Oh… did she say why?"

"She said he had a bad rep amongst the female enlisted, and that there were suspicions that he'd been over friendly with some of the younger female officers too…."

"Had he approached Angela?" Harm asked. He wasn't sure, but it seemed to him that something was making Jen acutely uncomfortable. And if Lindsey hadn't approached Jen, then the only reason he knew of which he could conceive that occasioned her discomfiture was that she knew one of the women to whom Lindsey had made approaches, and the only woman Jen had gotten close enough to to talk about such matters was Angela Hartmann.

"You'd have to ask Angela that question, Harm – but I wish you wouldn't. If Lindsey had made some sort of improper overture, I'm sure Angela wouldn't have kept quiet about it. And besides, if you go talking to Angela, she'll know that you could only have gotten that information from me, and she might see it as a betrayal of confidence… Damn! I wish I'd kept my mouth shut!" Jen finished unhappily.

Harm silently sympathised with Jen, she had inadvertently placed herself in the same position that her transfer out of JAG HQ had meant to avoid. Putting her at risk of being seen by her co-workers as a snitch. He looped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in towards him until she could rest her head in the hollow of his shoulder.

"Alright Jen… let me think on it overnight… I'm sure I can find a way out of this mess!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The shrill demands of the alarm clock dragged Harm from his sleep, and attempting to stretch his arm to slap it into silence, he became aware of the weight on his shoulder, a familiar comfortable weight, that of Jen's head, snuggling into her favourite pillow.

Holding his breath and mentally crossing his fingers, he waited to see if she would make a lunge for the bathroom as soon as she opened her eyes.

"M'mm… turnitof…" she complained sleepily.

"I can't sweetheart, you've got me pinned to the mattress…"

"M'mm… likethesoundofthat… might even have to do something about it, too," Jen murmured as she swam from the depths of sleep up to full consciousness and her eyes fluttered open.

"Yeah, you wish…" Harm smirked.

Jen blinked in order to clear her vision and then an arrested expression flitted over her face, followed by a smile, as she rolled clear of Harm's shoulder and ended up flat on her back.

"Oh, wow…" she breathed.

"Wow good, or wow bad?" Harm asked anxiously.

"Wow good, I think… Yep! Definitely wow good."

"And this is because?" Harm queried, although he had – he hoped – an inkling of the reason for Jen's good spirits.

"Because I don't feel nauseous this morning!" Jen exclaimed with a huge grin, "Or, at least I don't yet," she hastily amended her statement and rapped twice on the wooden headboard.

"Feeling superstitious this morning are we?" harm teased her as he eased out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

"Hey! I'll take all the help I can get, sailor!" Jen shouted after him as she swung her feet out of bed and cautiously stood, all senses alert for any feeling of dizziness or nausea. A smile swept over her face and she gave her stomach a gentle pat, "Good girl!" she told the bump, "Who's being mommy's little angel this morning!"

Walking into the bathroom, she congratulated herself on perfect timing as Harm turned off the water in the shower and stepped out into the bathroom, wrapping a towel around his hips. Jen stripped off her T-shirt and gave him a measuring look, which he caught in the mirror as he prepared to lather his face. "What?" he asked, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Umm… do you remember saying that you'd be happy to fry some bacon for me, if I could only keep it down?"

"Yeah…?"

"Well, I think I could… so could you please do some eggs, toast and bacon for breakfast, please?"

Harm grinned. "Anything for you, beautiful!"

"Really?" Jen asked with a mischievous smile and a voice replete with innuendo as she was about to step into the shower.

Harm shook his head in amusement. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"Oh yeah!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm stepped out of the front door, just as Loren closed her new access gate behind her. "Nice timing!" she grinned.

"Yeah… for the moment," Harm replied soberly, "And no, that was not a deliberate pun!"

He unlocked the Lexus and opened the passenger door for Loren before walking around to the driver's side. Loren looked keenly at him as he edged the SUV out into the vehicular mayhem that was Falls Church's morning commute, noting his sombre expression and how tight his hands gripped the steering wheel.

"You just have a fight with Jen?" Loren asked sympathetically.

Harm cast a surprised glance at her, "No, why on earth would you ask that?"

"You… uh… seem a little tense."

Harm grimaced, "Is it that obvious?"

Loren nodded, "'Fraid so… so if you've not been fighting with Jen, what's got you wound up like a watch-spring?"

"Umm… the anticipation of a possible fight with you…" Harm confessed.

"A fight with me? Whatever are we going to fight about?" A surprised Loren demanded.

Harm drew a deep, shuddering breath, and deciding that there was no point in beating about the bush, he answered simply, "Ted Lindsey."

Loren sunk back into her seat, "Oh… the hatchet report?"

Harm was surprised, "No… nothing to do with that. Why? Do you have a guilty conscience?"

Loren fidgeted uncomfortably, and looked out of the side window, "Umm… slightly… he asked me some questions about JAG… and I wasn't in a very good place at the time… with Bud Roberts getting the nomination for the _Seahawk_, so I may have vented somewhat, and then it appears he put the worst possible slant on anything and everything I'd said…"

"Ah… I wondered where he'd gotten his raw material from. That was the worst of that report he made. For every criticism he made, for every carping detail, there was at the bottom of it, a germ of truth. But no… that's all behind us now. Tracy Manetti rubbished the report, and Lindsey was lucky to keep his commission, let alone his job. No… this is worse, Loren."

"Worse?"

"Yeah, Lindsey. I'm opening an investigation into a report of sexual harassment against him… I was speaking with one possible witness on the 'phone last night, and Jen heard the conversation. When I explained what was going on, she mentioned that you might have relevant testimony."

Loren winced, "Damn… I had hoped that was all behind us too. It's … uh… complicated. Can we leave it until we get to work?"

"No running and hiding?"

"No… no point… after all, you know where I live…" Loren joked weakly.

Harm nodded, and gave an encouraging half-smile, "OK, we'll talk in my office…"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm put the two mugs of coffee on his desk, and took the second visitor's chair, removing the desk barrier between him and Loren. "OK, do you want start, or should I start asking questions?"

"No… I'll start… It started a couple of Christmases ago, the one when I was prosecuting Jen and you were defending her on the UA and Resisting charges…"

Harem nodded his recollection of that day.

"Well… after seeing her in civilian clothes at the Roberts', and then the missing bracelet and having to apologise to her for jumping to conclusions, I wasn't in the best of moods…"

"Go on," Harm encouraged her.

Loren gave a bitter laugh, "Even after Chaplain Turner's sermon, I still wasn't in the most Christian frame of mind, and you'll need to remember that I was still determined to get to the top – by whatever means possible. I had convinced myself that I was a damn good attorney. After all, I had beaten Mac, Alan Mattoni and Bud in court – and even you on one occasion."

"I didn't mind losing that one Loren. My client was as guilty as hell. The only thing I could do was to try diffusion of blame, but you saw that for the smoke and mirrors it was, and you just tore them to shreds. Actually, even then I was quite impressed with the way you went for the truth!"

"But I wasn't going for the truth – not then. I was just after the win! Anyway, my nose was put out of joint, so when I saw Ted Lindsey after the church service, I introduced myself to him… he was so unprepossessing that I thought he was an easy mark and that I could use his closeness with the SecNav as a tool to get ahead. I hadn't realised that he was such a manipulative son of a bitch."

Loren paused to take a mouthful of coffee, "Anyway, a couple of days later, he called me and invited me for a drink after work at Benzingers'. We met, we talked – mostly about JAG and the people there, that's when he got most of the information he put in his report. You may not believe this Harm, but I never meant anything I told him to be used maliciously, I just thought I was venting to another officer, one who wasn't in the same chain of command!"

Harm looked at her across the rim of his coffee mug, "Actually Loren, I do believe you. You told me once before – in this very office – that you were neither a liar nor a thief. I believed you then, and nothing has happened during the interim to make me change my mind."

"Not even the Sergei is/isn't Sasha's father game I was playing?"

"No… because I knew you were playing it and that you were doing so only to push my buttons. Which, let's face it, was the only reason you… that you… that he and you…"

"Had sex?" Loren asked.

It was Harm's turn to wriggle uncomfortably. "Yeah…"

"Oh, Harm, it was a bit more than that… or at least I'd hoped it was, but with hindsight I can see I was being unrealistic. Oh… no… I never intended to get pregnant – that was a contraception fail. And now… well… I can't even really blame Sergei for running… there was just too much that was too different between us… Besides," she added with a smile, "If he hadn't run, I wouldn't have had the joy of meeting Trish, Frank and Grams… But, to get back to Lindsey… we had a couple of more meetings in Benzingers' and he assured me that he was bringing me to the SecNav's attention, and I admit… I led him on a bit. Then one evening when he took me home… I was really stupid… I let him walk me up to my apartment door, instead of saying good night at the kerbside, like we usually did, and I suppose he thought… no… there was no suppose. He made it very clear that he expected repayment – physical repayment – for the good word he'd put in for me. I said no, he said it was quid pro quo, and that now I was playing by the big boys' rules. Things got a bit heated, and I foolishly told him that there was never any question of there being sex between us, he got physically aggressive, and I had to physically discourage his advances…"

"Oh… how did you do that?"

"A sharp knee-jab to a rather tender portion of his anatomy."

Harm winced in sympathy for the other man's pain, although he recognised even as he did so that Lindsey had more than deserved the hurt inflicted on him.

"And was that the end of it, Loren?"

"He did call me once more… in order to settle things between us on a more amicable note, or so he said, but I told him if he ever made contact with me again, my very next 'phone call would be to his wife. Since then I have been assiduous in ensuring that I am never alone with him."

"But you never reported his assault, or his propositioning you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Well… there's the embarrassment factor. The proposition and the quid pro quo aspect make me look more than just a little foolish and naïve. And the beginning of the whole sorry saga doesn't exactly show me in the most favourable light.

Harm nodded. "OK, now comes the sixty-four thousand dollar question: If Lindsey appears at an Article 32 hearing, or even a Court-Martial, would you be willing to testify?"

"Honestly Harm, I wouldn't want to… The Loren that pulled all that crap is gone. Now I have Sasha in my life, I want to be a different person… hell, I am a different person, that's partly what the change of name was about – but only partly."

Harm studied her thoughtfully. "Loren, this case may have ramifications of which we are as yet unaware. I will try and keep your name out of it, but I may not be able to. I wouldn't want to subpoena you, but if…"

"Harm, rather than force you to do that… if it … if push comes to shove then I will testify…"

"That's where we hit a second snag… because we are so close now, even sharing a name and living as neighbours… I might have to recuse myself, and if so, then I can't guarantee that whoever takes over the case would be willing to gloss over the less salubrious aspects of your testimony."

Loren nodded, "I take it that seeing as this has just blown up after two years that someone else has come forward with a complaint?"

"Yes."

Loren nodded again, "And if I'd spoken up two years ago then this other woman may not have been harassed?"

"It's possible, yes. But on the other hand, if this is a long standing modus operandi for friend Lindsey, if any previous victims had come forward then it is quite probable that you wouldn't have been harassed either."

Loren nodded her acknowledgement of the point. "If you do hand it off, to whom would you give it?"

"Well it could only be Bud, Sturgis or Mac. And of the three, I think the best one would be Mac."

"You are kidding me! She already hates me! She'd open every door to every closet I've got, and throw all my skeletons out into the public view. And what's more – she'd enjoy doing it!"

"OK, I can't deny that the two of you still aren't the best of friends, but I can tell you one thing: if you're on the same team, she'll have your back every step of the way. Besides if she's prosecuting, she won't be available for the defense, and sexual predators like Lindsey prefer to have women as defense counsel… it plays on the panel's mind that if the guy has a woman defending him, he can't be as black as the prosecution makes out!"

Whatever Loren may have said in reply to Harm's assurances was lost as Sturgis Turner rapped on the door jamb, "Are you two going to make staff call?" he asked whimsically.

Harm and Loren exchanged glances, "Yeah, I think we've done just about all we can here, Lieutenant!" Harm said

Loren agreed, "Yes, sir. But if I may, I'd like to get back to you, once I've had a chance to think this thing through."


	42. Are We Good?

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 42  
>Are We Good?<strong>

Harm checked his watch and decided to give the Admiral another couple of minutes to commune with his post-staff call mug of coffee before quite probably ruining his CO's entire day. There was no way that A J Chegwidden was going to be happy about the mess that Harm was about to dump in his lap, and in the tradition of the ancient kings of Persia Chegwidden was – especially in a state of caffeine deprivation – quite happy to shoot the messenger.

On the other hand trying to go this one alone raised the spectre of a total disaster of Titanic proportions – and Harm wasn't being metaphorical, he was thinking of the _RMS Titanic_ and an iceberg. And speaking of icebergs – which she wasn't any longer – Loren's involvement in this case was an additional complicating factor.

Another glance at his watch was enough to persuade him that sufficient time had probably passed for the Admiral to have gotten on the outside of his coffee, so with a deep breath, and straightening his shoulders, Harm tucked his file folder under his arm and made his way across the bull-pen to the Yeoman's ante-chamber. "The Admiral free, Tiner?"

"I'll check for you, sir!" The young Yeoman pressed the 'call' button on the combined telephone and intercom unit that occupied at least a quarter of his desk.

The machine's lights flickered and the electronically distorted growl of the Admiral's voice boomed through the speaker, "Yes, Tiner?"

"Sir, Commander Rabb would like a few moments if you can spare him the time?" Tiner said, casting a look up at Harm that said 'please don't make me a liar by making this a long interview…'

The ensuing silence was broken only by the carrier-wave borne static issuing from the intercom's speaker, until a heavy sigh was heard, followed by the Admiral's resigned voice, "Alright, Tiner, send him in!"

"Sir, the Admiral said…"

"It's OK Tiner, I heard him!"

Harm knocked, waited for the invitation and crossed the expanse of carpet halting between the visitors' chairs in front of the large mahogany desk.

A J Chegwidden leaned back in his chair, his elbows resting on the arms, and his fingers steepled just below his chin. He looked over the top of his horn-rimmed reading glasses, and spoke "You wanted to see me, Commander?"

"Uh… yes, sir… I could use some advice…"

Chegwidden sighed, he'd heard _that_ opening gambit from this particular officer before, "I'm not going to like this, am I Commander?"

"Umm… probably not, sir."

"Go on, spit it out," he said in a resigned tone, while wondering if there were any aspirin left in the bottle in his desk drawer, or whether he was going to have send Tiner to the local pharmacy for a re-supply.

"Sir, yesterday a Lieutenant Lucia Martinelli booked an appointment with me to lodge a complaint of sexual harassment."

"Why come direct to you? Why didn't she go through her chain of command?"

"Apparently, sir, there are trust issues, and because of the position of the person against whom she is levelling the accusations."

"Who is?"

Harm took a breath, this, if Old Man was going to blow, is the point where and when it would happen. "Commander Theodore Lindsey, Legal Advisor to the SecNav." Harm closed his eyes and waited for the explosion.

Instead Chegwidden sighed again, "Sit down, Commander."

Harm open his eyes to see that his CO had now leaned forward and with his elbows propped on the desk had buried his face in his hands and was massaging his eyes with the heels of his palms, his glasses now lying discarded on the blotter. He shook his head slightly, coming on top of his refusal as president of the promotions board to pass Lindsey for promotion to Captain and Lindsey's attempted hatchet job on the JAG staff, a move to charge him with any infringement of the UCMJ would have all the appearances of an inter-office feud fought out in the glare of the public gaze. Chegwidden groaned inwardly; he definitely did not need this crap! But there was no escaping it, once an occurrence of sexual harassment was alleged, then navy regulations and OPNAVINSTs were inflexible, the instance had to be properly investigated, and any officer who failed carry out such an investigation could kiss his career goodbye. So…

"What advice can you possibly want, Commander? You know we have no leeway in these matters…"

"Yes, sir, and I started to make initial inquiries yesterday, with the aim of discovering corroborating evidence… and… that's when I stumbled across certain events and individuals that I think make it imperative that I should recuse myself from this case."

"Go on…" Chegwidden said wearily, running a hand from front to back over his nearly hairless scalp.

"In one day sir, I have discovered no less than four potential witnesses. Unfortunately one of them is a friend of my wife's and another is Lieutenant Sing… uh, Lieutenant Rabb."

Chegwidden closed his eyes; this was just getting better and better. "Leaving aside the question of Lieutenant Rabb for the moment. This other woman, your wife's friend, do you know her?"

"Yes, sir. I have met her once, together with her husband, a Logistics Chief at the DC Navy yard," he paused, "When Jennifer invited them to our house for dinner – where they also met Lieutenant Rabb."

Chegwidden grunted as if he'd been body punched, "Well, this just goes on getting better! Who are your other witnesses?"

"There's a Lieutenant Toranama, she's in a Pentagon billet, but despite my leaving messages for her, she's failed to contact me, and a Lieutenant (jg) Pearson, on Admiral Wade's staff at Pearl. We spoke on the telephone yesterday evening and she is extremely reluctant to testify."

Chegwidden exploded, "Dammit! I don't care how goddam reluctant she is! She will testify even if we have to subpoena her!" He fulminated for a good minute before he sighed and seemed to Harm's eyes to deflate somewhat. "Well, you can't prosecute, that's for certain, not only are you too close to potential witnesses, but Lindsey's attack on you in his so-called report, was the most vehement criticism he made. No, if you prosecute Lindsey, it will look like you – and the whole of JAG – are just out for revenge. Let's face it, there is no-one in this office that did not come in for some pretty scathing attacks from friend Lindsey. So… you will not recuse yourself from the case Commander. I am severing you from it with immediate effect!"!

Harm winced, "Sir, I don't wish to appear to be questioning your orders…"

"So don't question them, Commander!"

"No, sir, I won't… but there is the question of Lieutenant Martinelli… she came to me specifically…"

"Understood." Chegwidden considered for a moment and then reached out and stabbed the 'call' button on his intercom, "Tiner?"

"Sir!"

"Find me a clear hour on my calendar for any time after lunch today until secure on Friday!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

"And Tiner?"

"Sir?"

"Make it an hour when Commander Rabb is not due in court!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

"And when you've found it, pencil in the name Martinelli, and inform Commander Rabb, as well as me!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Chegwidden returned his attention to Rabb, "When Tiner has found a slot, then you'll have Lieutenant Martinelli come in, and you'll bring her to me so that I can explain to her why you can't handle the case."

"Yes, sir." Harm hesitated, "Who_ will _be handling the case, sir?"

"That, Commander Rabb is the sixty-four thousand dollar question, and one that to which at present, I have no answer" the Admiral said heavily. "Now, leave the file with me. I'm certain that you have other cases that would benefit from your attention! Dismissed!"

Harm sprang to his feet, placed the file on the Admiral's desk and replied "Aye, aye, sir!" before about facing and leaving his former SEAL CO staring in acute dislike at the innocent buff folder in front of him.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Chegwidden replaced the 'phone on its cradle and scrubbed his hands over his face. He had just completed a fairly long and complex three-way conversation with Admiral Wade at COMPACFLEET and Barney Jefferson, the one-star Admiral commanding the JAG office at Pearl Harbour. The upshot of the 'phone call was that Lieutenant (jg) Pearson would be tactfully interviewed by a senior, female, JAG at Pearl, and a copy of the transcript of that interview and any related statement would be forward to Falls Church ASAP. It depended on the contents of those documents whether or not Lieutenant (jg) Pearson's presence would be required at Commander Ted Lindsey's article 32 hearing.

In the meantime, Chegwidden supposed he needed to find two attorneys, with enough seniority and competent enough to defend and prosecute and also with no connection to either Lindsey, Rabb or any of the witnesses, because if he was any judge, Lindsey was not go to go down quietly, and there would inevitably be comparison with the old Tailhook scandal. He just hoped that on this occasion the investigators wouldn't be sacrificed as had those who'd investigated the older case.

But who the hell were those investigators going to be… He was sorely tempted to handle the whole mess over to NCIS, but no matter how efficient they might be in handling other investigations, they never seemed to quite hit their stride when it came to working with JAG, and although it was years ago, that agent's attempt to frame Rabb for that Lieutenant's murder seemed to have permanently soured Rabb's attitude to the whole organisation. Turkey! Yes, that was it, he remembered he and Alison Krennick laughing at the man's unfortunate name… but he was drifting off the point… or was he… It had taken Rabb's then partner – Meg Austin - all of fifteen minutes to blow Turkey's false charges out of the water and that by the simple application of common sense.

Now, was she a possible candidate for the prosecution slot? Chegwidden shook his head regretfully; probably not, her previous association with Rabb made her a questionable choice, particularly as they had seemed at one stage to be getting dangerously near the unacceptably close mark. But she was at Pearl, and she could very well do the initial interview with Lieutenant Pearson.

Chegwidden leaned back in his chair, trying to pass under mental review the careers of those JAGs senior enough and experienced enough to work the case, but who didn't have any connection with Rabb or any of the present incumbents of Falls Church. Names and faces were remembered easily enough, but service histories were a different matter…

Once again Chegwidden had recourse to the intercom, "Tiner?"

"Sir!" Oh well, at least his Yeoman was on station and on the ball.

"Tiner, do one of those guggle things on that damn computer and pull me all the service records for all Lieutenant Commander JAGs on up to Captain, in CONUS – no make that world-wide, including Fleet and SJAs!" That should include about two hundred officers; surely to God there must be two in there that he could use!

"Aye, aye, sir! Sir?"

"Yes, Tiner?"

"If there's anything in particular you're looking for sir, it might speed things up a bit?"

"H'mm… OK, I'm looking for a pair of trial attorneys who have no connection whatsoever to either of the Rabbs."

"I… uh… take it that's Commander Rabb for one , sir, but do you mean to search for connections to Lieutenant Rabb or Legalman One Rabb, sir?"

"Dammit!" Chegwidden exploded, driven beyond the limits of his patience, "Any damn Rabb! If the name Rabb comes up anywhere in an officer's history, then I don't even want to hear that officer's name! Got it!"

"No mention of any Rabbs, aye, sir!"

"Good! Get on it!" The Admiral released the 'Call' button on the intercom unit and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, but the attempt to stave off the long-threatened headache was just another instance of too little, too late. Sliding open his desk drawer, he reached for the little brown bottle and then stared at it in disbelief.

Reaching for the intercom unit again, he waited for his Yeoman's reply, "Sir?"

"Tiner, have you got any more aspirin out there?"

"Coming right up, sir!" Tiner shook his head gently in regret for a missed opportunity. Damn! He knew he should have bought shares in aspirin!

Chegwidden sat back in his chair and forced himself to relax – well attempt to relax, but he knew it was a futile effort, and dammit all! Today of all days he'd brought a sea-food risotto in for his lunch, and now he knew he wouldn't enjoy it. Hell, at the moment he didn't even think he could face it.

And then, despite himself, a smile spread across his face, not a smile of amusement but the sort of predatory grin that an alligator would be proud to exhibit. One of the things A J Chegwidden enjoyed as an admiral was the ability when he was unhappy to spread that unhappiness around. He leaned forward again and picked up the handset of his direct line 'phone, and punched in a well-known number. The ring tone on the other end seemed to last for ever but at last the anticipated voice at the other end grated, "Yes?"

"Mister Secretary, this is A J Chegwidden."

"What can I do for you, A J?"

"Mister Secretary, I have just become aware of several allegations of sexual misconduct and harassment against a senior officer…"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm had returned to his desk where he had attempted to find some degree of interest in the half-dozen file folders that the new Legalman, Petty Officer Dietz had dumped in his in-tray during his absence from his desk. The three FOI requests he immediately shuffled to the bottom of the tray – to join the other four similar requests – it wasn't that he actively disliked FOI requests, it was just they were so damn'… boring. Of the other three files, two were comparatively simple UA cases, complicated only by the length of the absence in the once case, and by the claim of breach of contract on the Navy's part in the other. The third case had been referred to JAG HQ by the SJA to the Commandant at Camp Lejeune, and involved the loss of weapons – three cases of M4 Carbines – some of which had later been recovered, and identified by their serial numbers, from the hands of a West Virginia based 'militia' group calling themselves the 'Guardians of American Liberty'.

The recovery had been effected by a joint task force of FBI, ATF and NCIS personnel, and while the FBI and ATF were quite happy squabbling over who should prosecute the militia group's members, NCIS had come up with a name. The name of the man responsible for selling the weapons to the group in the first place: Senior Ground Ordnance Weapons Chief, Master Gunnery Sergeant Thomas Earl James. NCIS had charged James and he was now in pre-trial confinement at Camp Lejeune. And attached to the file cover was a note in the Admiral's distinctive scrawl, '_Rabb you'll prosecute, MacKenzie to defend.'_

Harm stood, and was about to walk along to Mac's office when his intention was stalled by the shrill demand of his telephone, slumping back into his chair he scowled at the instrument for the time it took ring a further three times and then snatched the handset up out of the cradle.

"Rabb!"

"_Commander Rabb?"_ The voice was female and sounded young – well youngish.

"Yes, this is he."

"_Commander, this is Lieutenant Toranama at DoN Procurement Division at the Pentagon You tried to call me yesterday, and I sorry to have taken so long to your return your calls, but I was off duty yesterday, and I have only just found your message slips at the bottom of my in-tray_."

Harm raised his eyes heavenwards – why, oh why, did she have to be away yesterday when he could have used her to get a statement… still.

"Ah, yes, thank you for calling me back Lieutenant. Umm… the matter about which I wanted to speak with you is… ah… of a delicate nature…"

"_Sir?" _

"Your name was given to me as a possible witness against a senior officer, who has been accused of sexual harassment…"

"_Commander Lindsey."_ The way she said the name made it a statement and not a question.

"Yes. I'm not going to pull any punches, Lieutenant, if this case comes to trial, it is going to be messy, but I have to ask you, are you willing to testify in this case?"

"_Certainly, sir. I shall be happy to."_

Harm blinked, this was not exactly the sort of response he'd been expecting, especially after Pearson's point blank and tearful refusal.

"If you are so happy to testify, Lieutenant," he asked slowly, "Why haven't you come forward before now?"

"_Because my involvement in a case of this sort would have brought great shame upon my father._"

"So what has changed your mind Lieutenant?"

"_My father died last month, and he can no longer be hurt by the consequences of my stupidity!"_

"Lieutenant, I am sorry for your loss," Harm said gently, "And if you feel that you want to and are able to testify, I'd like to take your statement… Can you come in to JAG at Falls Church, or would it be easier if I were to come up to the Pentagon?"

"_I'd rather come to Falls Church, sir, if that's alright… I don't want … I mean, if people were to see me with a JAG Officer… then there might be questions…_"

"That's quite alright, Lieutenant, I realise that being seen in company with a JAG might do your reputation no good at all!" Harm smiled as he spoke and hoped the humour he had injected in his voice survived the journey through the network of cables to Lieutenant Toronama's ear.

He was rewarded by a hastily stifled giggle and a quick, "_I'm sorry, sir. When would it be convenient for me…?_"

Harm glanced at his watch; it was too near lunch now for anything useful to be accomplished, "Could you get down here this afternoon, Lieutenant?"

"_Umm… not until about seventeen-thirty hours, sir_."

Harm nodded, it wouldn't be the first time he'd had to work back because a witness couldn't meet before secure. "Do you know how to find us, Lieutenant?"

"_I'll manage, sir, after all how hard could it be?_" Harm could almost see the shoulder shrug.

"Fine. I'll let the CP know to expect you. See you at seventeen-thirty, Lieutenant!"

"_Aye, aye, sir_!"

Harm replaced the receiver back in its cradle, and sat back, gazing reflectively at it. He had just, given the Admiral's instruction to sever himself from the case, taken a hell of a chance, but past experience had taught him that in tricky cases like this, it was best to take a witness statement before the witness got cold feet and elected not to co-operate.

And talking of witness co-operation, he needed to talk to Loren again and hopefully get her statement.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen sat at the cafeteria table, idly twirling her fork through her tuna and pasta salad, but not taking more than a small bite every five minutes or so, and studiously avoiding catching her companion's eye.

Angela Hartmann finished her own portion of mac 'n' cheese and put down her fork, "Alright… out with it!"

"Out with what?" Jen asked with a fair assumption of innocence.

"Oh… that is so not working!" Angela scolded her friend.

"What isn't working?"

"This… air of nothingness… as if butter wouldn't melt in your mouth! Come on Jen, this is me! We haven't known each other very long, but we do work together eight plus hours a day, and normally you're a whole bundle of laughs, but today you've hardly said a word! Something's bothering you, so spit it out!"

Jen just stared down at her plate and shook her head.

Angela reached out and stilled Jen's hand by the simple expedient of taking hold of it. "Look, whatever you're bottling up is stressing you out, and stress isn't good for the baby, so come on, tell your Auntie Angie all about it!"

The idea of Angela, who was over a year younger than Jen, being her aunt was enough to make Jen's mouth twitch, and Angela pounced. "See, it can't be all that bad, if a crap joke like nearly gets you giggling…"

Jen pushed her plate away from her and sat back in her chair, "Angie, it's not fair you being nice to me, when I feel like a total traitor…"

"Say what?" The look of astonishment on Angela's face nearly did start Jen laughing, but she managed to confine her amusement to one snort.

"Oh, I am sorry… this isn't funny… but the look on your face…"

"Never mind the look on my face, girl, what the fu… uh… the hell are you on about?"

Jen tried to play for more time by taking a sip from her water, only for her action to be met by a determined shake of Angela's head and a firm "Uh-uh! Give!"

Jen decided that not only was she not going to get any peace until she 'fessed up, but that also she owed her friend a heads up about the shit-storm that was about to break over the Pentagon's DoN element. Jen had the very uneasy feeling that by the time this particular case was over, there would be careers ruined and long years spent behind bars for some of the participants.

"Umm… Yesterday, Harm was approached by a young officer, who made a complaint of sexual harassment…"

"Oh… Jen…. I'm so sorry. No wonder you're upset!"

"What? Oh, no! No, nothing like that," Jen replied, "No she came to him to make a complaint against a third party…" Jen paused and took another sip of water, "Commander Lindsey… you know the one…"

"Yes, I know the one." Angela said flatly.

"Well, Harm got a 'phone call at home last night from a potential witness, and we got to talking about the case… and I accidentally let your name slip as someone he'd tried to…. to…"

"Take advantage of?"

"Well… yes…" Jen said unhappily.

Angela nodded, dropped her eyes to stare at Jen's unfinished lunch, "Umm… I've been kinda thinking… about what you said… how I should have reported him when he tried it on me… and… well, I told you I didn't report it because I didn't think anyone would believe an enlisted over an officer's word, but that's not true.."

Jen made to interrupt, but Angela held up a hand to forestall her, "I think the real reason I didn't report it was because I was… ashamed… embarrassed that I fell so easily for his lies… I still haven't told Tom about it… I'm afraid he'd just go storming in and punch out Lindsey…"

"Oh, Angie, I'm so sorry… but the thing is, Harm is most likely to want to take a statement from you… and you may have to testify…"

Angela nodded, "Is that's what's been bothering you, Jen?"

Jen just nodded.

Angela bit her lip, "Well what goes around comes around," she said somewhat cryptically, "But I take it that this complaint is new?"

"Yeah… I think so…"

"OK… I'll tell Tom tonight… so if you could ask Commander Rabb to give me another twenty-four hours, before he comes knocking, please?"

Jen smiled at last, grateful for her friend's reaction, "Of course I will… and Angie?"

"H'mm?"

"Thanks for not cussing me out…"

"Hey, that just means that you owe me!"

"And you mean to collect, right?"

"Damn' straight!" Angela managed through a laugh, a laugh in which Jen joined

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm left his office and walked across the bull-pen towards Loren's smaller office, through the door of which he could see her scowling at the computer screen as her fingers danced across the keyboard.

Reaching her doorway he leaned one shoulder against the door jamb, crossed his arms and coughed lightly.

Loren stopped typing and turned to look at him. Although she wasn't now scowling, she had a frown furrow between her eyebrows and her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, "Given up knocking have we?" she asked acerbically.

"Well… I thought I'd try a more relaxed approach, just for my new… sister's benefit."

Loren caught the slight hesitation, and for a moment her face became an expressionless mask, "Yeah… how do we label our relationship… we're not just colleagues any more, we've grown too close for that… not in any improper sense, of course," she added hurriedly.

"No, no, of course not!" Harm agreed hastily.

A silence fell between them as each fought to discover a way forward through the conversational morass they had just blundered into, and it was Loren who broke that silence. "You know…" she began, with just the slightest gleam of humour in her eyes, "Your mom – and Frank – basically adopted me – no don't argue, Trish actually said that on one occasion, and then Grams invited me to change my name and become a Rabb, as she put it. And I like that Harm, I really do. And of course if things had worked out with Sergei, I would have been your sister-in-law. Or should that be half-sister-in-law?" she wondered, her brow crinkling in thought.

"But keeping all that in mind, do you know? I rather like the idea you put forward in the car when we went to see Trish and Frank off at the airport?"

Harm shrugged, a lot had been said that day, and some of it on so many different levels. "What part of what I said did you like?"

"At one point, you called me your sister-out-law…"

"Oh Loren, I'm so sorry about that. That was so needlessly cruel!"

"Well, I thought so too, at the time," she confessed, "But I had a feeling that you weren't being deliberately cruel, so I let it slide. But… the more I've thought about, the better I've come to feel about it. After all, it is a pretty accurate description of our relationship, and the 'outlaw' connotation sizes up pretty well the person I was. So, if you want to call me that in future, then it's fine by me."

Harm looked across the desk at her, and shook his head, "No… it's still too cruel, and even if we used it as a kind of shorthand, it would still only get folk asking for the story behind it, so it wouldn't really resolve anything. And although for a time it might be amusing to see people's reactions, it's my guess that the joke would wear pretty thin after a while."

"So, what do_ you_ suggest?"

Harm thought for a moment or two and then his eyes warmed as his grin spread across his face, "Well, you're already like a sister to Jen, and like you say, mom seems to have adopted you, so I guess that would make you my step-sister?"

"Yeah, I like that," Loren agreed, her eyes moistening as she opened a desk drawer in search of her box of Kleenex.

"Here," Harm prompted, holding out a precisely folded, pristine white handkerchief.

"No way," Loren said triumphantly holding up a sheaf of Kleenex, "Trying to get mascara stains out that would be murder!"

Harm nodded an acknowledgement of the truth of her statement and waited until she'd blotted her eyes, and then with a defiant sniff, she asked "But you didn't come here just to upset me? Or did you?" the suspicion crystal clear in her last question.

"No, I didn't… but… here's the thing. I… uh… went to see the Admiral about this Lindsey case, and he pulled me off it. I'm too close to you and to another witness, and then there's too much history between me and Lindsey."

Loren nodded, "Yeah, well, that's really no big surprise, is it? Him, severing you from the case, I mean."

"No, not really… but it means that we probably won't be able to keep your name out of it."

Loren nodded again, "Probably not, but what's the worst they can hit me with? Conduct unbecoming for venting about the officers I work with? I won't do any brig time for that, and if it can be shown that I've changed my attitude in the interim, they probably won't dismiss me from the service. Okay, it might be I'll take a career hit, but, as long as I'm still in with a regular pay-check coming in I can look after Sasha, and that's what's really important!"

Harm listened carefully, his expression sombre, looked at dispassionately, Loren was probably right, but it all depended on how her testimony was used by the prosecutor, and what doors he left open for the defence.

Loren saw Harm's solemn expression, and offered him a comforting smile, "Don't take it so hard, step-brother of mine. I'm a big girl, I've made mistakes, and if I have to live with the consequences of those mistakes, then, hey, them's the breaks!"

"Yeah, I guess," Harm said standing, "There's just one more thing, I'll be working back a bit this evening Loren, probably won't get out of here before eighteen-thirty… so if you want to organise a ride home somehow…"

"No, that's OK, Harm, it'll give me a chance to get this damn' report finished early and on the Admiral's desk before the deadline. It may allow me to chalk up another brownie-point or two!"

"OK, I'll phone Jen and get her to pick Sasha up from Alison – save you the cost of an extra shift!"

"Only if Jen's sure that it's not a problem?" She saw the grin and the shake of his head, "Well, OK, thanks, Harm!"

"Not worry, that's what we're here for, to get each other's back. Besides when our daughter arrives, we'll probably be running to you every five minutes for help and advice." He paused in the doorway, "See you later, Loren!"

"Yeah, later." Loren watched him cross toward the Chief of Staff's office and then turned back to her screen with a sigh. She was worrying about the Lindsey case, and although Harm's visit and his encouragement had cheered her up, the cold lump she felt in the pit of her stomach belied the brave words she had used to make a prognosis of her future.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm rapped smartly on the door jamb of Mac's office, she looked up from the file she was studying, and with a warm smile and a sigh, she closed the file, "Hey Squid, what can I do for you?"

"You got maybe twenty minutes?"

Mac reflected briefly "Eighteen minutes thirty-two seconds before lunch, why?"

Harm combed his fingers through his hair, "One of these days you're gonna have to tell me just how you do that!"

Mac grinned and rattled off a stream of quick-fire comments in a foreign language, most of it too fast for Harm to even hear, but something about the rhythm and pitch told him it was probably Russian.

"Huh?" he responded eloquently.

"I just told you how I do that," Mac protested with wide-eyed innocence.

"Yeah? But in Russian?" Harm objected.

"Had to be," Mac replied in explanation, "It loses too much in translation."

"Yeah, well… Look you know you said we had to talk…"

"About Loren…yeah… I did, didn't I?"

"Yeah. I know things might look a little hokey, but I give you my word that everything between Loren and I is on the level."

"You've already told me that Harm, I believed it when you said, and I believe it now. You have done or said nothing in the interim that would make me believe otherwise," she finished, unconsciously echoing Harm's own words to Loren. "But I'm not the problem. The problem lies in how others may see it, remember the appearance of impropriety is…"

"Yeah, yeah, I get that!" Harm said curtly, his open hand slashing though the air in a cut-off signal, "But what would you have me do? Don't forget, Loren is the mother of my niece, of my brother's child. She's family now, as far as I'm concerned, and I'm quite prepared to acknowledge her to the whole world as my step-sister." He realised that the volume of his voice had risen and took a deep breath to calm himself, before he continued in a calmer voice, "Look, Sasha is a Rabb – by blood," he hastily cut off Mac's objection before she could give voice to it. "She has been accepted by Mom and Grams as part of the family. And by me. And I will not let another Rabb child grow up without her family."

"Another one of your obsessions, Harm?" Mac murmured watching him keenly.

"No! – Yes, yes I suppose in a way it is . But anyway, Sasha's been accepted by the whole family, and although we've only known her for a very short time, we've come to love her for herself, not just because of her ancestry. We – the Rabb-Burnett family – have no intention of being other than loving and supportive. Well, that has meant we've had to accept Loren as well. I'll admit, when I stumbled across her at Mom's I nearly had a cow, but it didn't take very long for me to realise that she'd changed for the better, so I started out giving her a break, and I'm glad I did. Under that whole Wicked Witch of Washington thing she had going, there's a warm, funny, gentle loving and desperate to be loved young woman, only she was too afraid of getting hurt again to let that young woman out through the ice-walls! Mac, if you could put your stupidities behind you and become what you have become, don't you think that Loren might also merit that chance. Give her that break Mac, meet her half-way. You might never become friends, but you could become friendly."

Mac nodded appreciating the justice of his comments, but then a further thought struck her. "You say your attitude towards Loren changed when you saw at your Mom's place how she had changed. But you were protective of her before that, before she went on maternity leave."

"Yeah… well… I knew that Sergei was her baby's father…"

"Yeah, about that…" Mac's eyes lost some of their softness, "What were you thinking; running a private investigation behind my back, when the Admiral had tasked me to find out the circumstances of her pregnancy? Do you have any idea how much that hurt to discover that you apparently didn't trust me?"

Harm winced; they were getting dangerously close to the questions and answers that had soured their friendship over most of the past year.

"There are two parts to that answer, Mac." He said gravely, "Firstly, there was the fact that I was embarrassed that my little brother had got involved with Loren Singer, who was not only the most unpopular person that we knew, but was also some twelve years older than he. It was like I had failed in my duty of care to him."

Mac nodded reluctantly, she could sense that he was telling her the truth about the chagrin that he'd felt, but she was also sure there was something else… "Go on… what was the second part…"

"This might hurt, Mac, are you sure we're back at the stage where our friendship can survive honesty?"

"I hope so, Harm…"

"Well the truth is, Mac, I didn't trust you."

Mac's shocked "Oh!" made Harm pause.

"I didn't feel I could trust you to be impartial in the way you handled the case," he went on very gently, his eyes locked on hers in a silent plea for understanding. "From the moment that the Admiral assigned the case in his office, you seemed to have made your mind up that Loren had conceived on board ship. There didn't seem to be any doubt in your mind either then or when we argued about it on the COD. It was like you had abandoned any concept of innocence until proven guilty, and that you had already mentally written your report before you'd asked a single question or said a single word to her… I felt that you had let your personal dislike for her, allied to your own baggage about women in the services, convict her out of hand without regard to any possible scenario other than the one you had fixed on."

"Oh… no… Harm… I never… You can't really have believed that?" Mac asked, her face a picture of dismay.

"I'm sorry, Mac, that's exactly what I thought at the time. You see," he went on still as gently but inexorably, "Your case history shows that when you prosecute servicewomen you seem to take their transgressions – even if not yet proven – personally. I know you've fought hard to get where you are, and that you say that you didn't receive any favours, and you despise women who think that they should be cut some slack just because they are women. But that line of thought seems to have led you to create a somewhat arbitrary paradigm for how women in the services should act, and you go after those who deviate from your neat little paradigm with a vengeance. And unfortunately one of the elements in your paradigm is that no woman should ever be in a situation where she faces charges."

"Oh... Harm… I don't…" a now white-faced Mac pleaded.

"Mac, how about the way you went after Sandra Gilbert? Did you give her any benefit of the doubt? Or the way you attacked Skates over her mishap trial? I could go on."

"Harm, I was doing my job as prosecutor!" Mac protested.

"Yeah, you were, but you were a little too enthusiastic about it and you seemed to be enjoying it a little too much! But the other side of the coin holds true as well."

"How do you mean?"

"I can recall only one woman you defended – informally at that – against administrative action taken against her, and you were wrong, deadly wrong on that case."

"Who was that?"

"Marilyn Isaacs," Harm sad flatly.

Mac shut her eyes in anguish, for a dreadful moment she was back on vultures' row seeing the flames burst from the wreckage of the crashed F-14 and then to her horror the sight of Isaacs' parachute sending her into the heart of that fireball. Thankfully there had been too much ambient noise to hear Isaacs as she died right in front of the eyes of the helpless flight deck crew, but that hadn't prevented Mac from hearing her screams night after night for months afterwards.

Mac swallowed and then asked, "Harm would you mind leaving now?"

Harm stood, hoping that he hadn't caused any irreparable damage, "Still friends?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah, still friends," Mac answered tremulously, "It's just that I don't like you very much right now." She shrugged seeing the worry on his face, "That tends to happen Harm, when somebody holds up a mirror to you and find that you don't like what you see there, either."

"But we're good, right?"

Mac nodded, "Yeah, we will be. See you later."

Harm nodded in acknowledgement of his dismissal, "Yeah, later."


	43. High on the Hill

**Mommy Dearest**

**43  
>High on the Hill<strong>

It was gone nineteen hundred hours when Harm and Loren returned home, both were foot-dragging weary, more from a mental than a physical tiredness, although to Harm it felt as Lieutenant Toranama's statement weighed more than a Universal Encyclopaedia. She had been remarkably forthcoming about times, dates, places and events and seemed to have been on the receiving end of some pretty persistent harassment on the part of Commander Lindsey.

Harm had been astonished as to the lack of her reaction to Lindsey as well as the intensity and duration of his effort. Toranama had explained quite calmly without any evidence of histrionics that Lindsey seemed to have known how she would react – how her culture would make her avoid 'shaming' her family. Torn between her modern, western, education and a thousand year old culture she had, she said, tried to become a tortoise, drawing in her vulnerable extremities and developing a hard shell. But now with no conflicting cultural demands, the tortoise was transforming into a tiger, and the tiger wanted blood!

But all that could wait until the morning, right now Harm wanted to kiss his wife, grab a shower, have a quick bite to eat, and then just unwind, and looking at Loren's drawn face, as he turned the Lexus into the driveway, he was willing to bet that she felt much the same way, except that she'd be looking forward to kissing Sasha rather than Jen.

Jen greeted them in the living room where she was sat curled sideways on the sofa, Sasha cradled in her arms and a look of utter contentment on her face. Harm stopped so suddenly, transfixed by the picture she presented, that Loren was unable to avoid ploughing into the back of him.

Jen looked up, saw the expression on Harm's face, and then burying her own face in Sasha's fine blonde curls, she inhaled a lungful of the scent of clean, fresh baby and murmured, "Hey there, baby darling, your mommy's home," and started to struggle to her feet. Harm dropped his briefcase and extended a strong arm to help Jen up and then stood back to allow Loren to take the drowsy infant. Relieved of her burden, Jen stepped back into the circle of Harm's embrace and they both watched as Loren re-established contact with her daughter.

Jen looked up and back into Harm's eyes and he smiled down at her, his hands, now covered by Jen's, gently cradling her bump, "Soon, sweetheart, soon," he reassured her.

"Oh, I know…" Jen whispered, "But I just wish…"

Soft though their voices had been, Loren had heard the exchange and looked up from Sasha, a soft smile curving her lips, "It all comes and goes so quickly, Jen. Don't be wishing any of it away!"

"Oh, I won't," Jen replied, "I won't," she said to Loren, but then something about the blonde caught her eye. Loren looked tired, very tired, and in an instant Jen changed her admittedly somewhat nebulous plans for the evening.

"Loren, you look just about all in," she said slowly, "Look, why don't you leave Sasha with us for another half hour or so, while you go grab a shower and get changed into something comfortable. And then come back and have supper with us. Nothing fancy, 'cause Harm looks too tired to cook, and I'm too lazy, but a bowl of soup and a couple of slices of cheese toast?"

"Are you sure?" Loren asked, although she couldn't hide the relief and the gratitude she felt for Jen's simple suggestion. She didn't feel like cooking and her thoughts on supper had been drifting in the direction of a PBJ sandwich and a glass of milk.

"Yes, go on, we'll look after Sasha until you're ready."

"OK, yes, thank you, I will! But… and no offence Jen, I don't think I'll follow your trendsetting look just yet!" Loren quipped.

"Why what's wrong with my look?" a mock indignant Jen answered, "It's warm, it's comfortable, it's practical, it's…"

"Hideous!" Loren laughed.

Harm grinned as the two women squabbled happily. As far as he was concerned, Jen looked beautiful in anything – or nothing, but he had to admit, one of her own t-shirts, stretched tight over her bump did nothing to disguise the fact that she was wearing a pair of his old jogging bottoms, long since washed to shapeless bagginess, with the waistband up under her armpits, and the cuffs of the legs rolled up around the calves of her legs, and the whole ensemble completed by her battered 'Garfield' slippers.

Supper, a bowl of Harm's tomato and coriander soup retrieved from the freezer, followed by grilled cheese on toast was eaten to the accompaniment of desultory, casual conversation at the kitchen table, and afterwards while Loren retreated into the living room to feed Sasha, Jen made a pot of tea while Harm tackled the few items of kitchen and dining-ware that had been used.

The comforting nature of the food, the warm atmosphere and the hot tea all contributed to increasing the feeling of weariness for both Harm and Loren, and it wasn't many minutes after swallowing the last of her mug of tea that Loren said goodnight and by the light spilling from the kitchen windows headed off across the back yard to the ranch house, where her own lights glowed through the windows before the smaller building was plunged into darkness as Loren settled Sasha for the night and slipped under the comforter on her own bed. But quick as she was, the lights in the big house had been switched off minutes before.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm had awoken early and taken advantage of that fact by slipping into shorts, t-shirt and sneakers. Gently tickling his still sleeping wife he made her roll over in bed, exposing her face flushed rosy-red by sleep and dropped a soft kiss on her lips, softly saying "Just going for a run, won't be too long."

"H'mm… don' go too far…" was all the response he got from the still more than half-asleep Jen, who he reckoned would be back fully asleep before he left the house.

Checking the time on his watch as he went through his stretching and warm up exercises, he figured that twenty minutes out and twenty minutes back would do for the day, and he'd still have time to shower before Jen took over the bathroom for her hopefully nausea-free morning ritual.

So it was forty two minutes later that Harm stood under the shower washing the exercise induced perspiration from his body and anticipating his mug of instant coffee before Jen made an appearance in the kitchen. However, he'd only just stepped out from the shower when Jen pushed past him and fell to her knees in front of the toilet. Harm's heart sank. Jen had suffered through a miserable month of morning sickness, and the last couple of days when she hadn't been sick had led them both to hope that the worst was past. And it seemed so, Jen only dry-retched two or three times, and then sat back on her heels, her eyes watering, but a smile beginning to spread on her face, and in answer to Harm's anxious, "Are you OK, sweetheart?" she merely let the smile broaden.

"If I hadn't been OK," she replied, "That would have ranked right up there as one of the top ten dumbest questions of all time, and would have brought you a much-merited whomp upside the head! But…" she added in a considering tone of voice, "because I am alright and I know you love me, and I love you, I'll let you off this time!"

"Hey, what can I say?" Harm asked as he lathered his face in preparation for the razor, "What's there about me not to love?"

Jen threw him a darkling look, pausing as she pulled her shower cap over her mass of dark brown hair, "Do you really want me to answer that question?" she demanded indicating his running socks lying on the floor where they had missed the laundry basket when he thrown them in that direction.

Harm guiltily followed the direction of Jen's stare, "Ah… yeah… well… I was… uh… going to pick them up on the way out… you see… I thought… umm… I'd be finished here before you came …" he faltered, wilting under the accusing look she gave him.

"Uh… Jen? Just before you get into the shower, sweetheart, are up for breakfast this morning?"

Jen paused, considering the state of her stomach. "Yeah, I think I am… a couple of eggs over-easy on toast, please?"

Happy that Jen was once again eating breakfast, Harm whistled cheerfully while he prepared food for the two of them, and was still wearing a sappy smile when Loren climbed into the Lexus' passenger seat.

"A bit of a change from last night, she commented with a raised eyebrow.

"Yep, God's in his heaven, Jen ate breakfast, all's well with the world!" he exclaimed.

"Thank God for that!" Loren agreed. "I don't know which would be worse, the whole three months of mild sickness I had, or the one really bad month that Jen's had." She paused, "Uh… you do think it's over don't you? I mean you and Jen?"

"I don't know about thinking, Loren, but I certainly hope so! But…" and his grin reappeared on his face, "I do know what I'm looking forward to…"

"And that is?" Loren grinned too; she had a fair idea of what was coming up next.

"A mug of real coffee – even if it is made by Tiner! Are you going to have one this morning?"

"Later, after eleven. I'm going to need to express some milk, otherwise I'm going to hurt, and I can't do that if I have caffeine in my system."

"Oh… the torture you women go through," Harm said, in mock sympathy.

"You mean, oh, the torture you men put us through!" Loren snapped.

Harm chuckled, "Atta girl!" and received an angry kitten glare from his passenger.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"I was sure I'd told you that you were severed from this case, Commander?" A J Chegwidden allowed his attorneys a surprising amount of latitude, but overlooking Disobedience to a Direct Order fell far outside the parameters of what he permitted.

"You did, sir, but at the time you severed me from the case, I had forgotten that I had already arranged to interview Lieutenant Toranama, and given that the case has already seen one witness pull a volte-face, when the Lieutenant agreed to meet me I figured it was best that she did so. If you'll open the file, sir, you'll see that it contains a sealed envelope, with the Lieutenant's signature across the seal. The statement is in her own handwriting, and I have only the broadest idea of what she has written, all I did was supply the Lieutenant with the correct protocols for making a statement, and although I heard her verbal account – which was pretty grim, sir, - I have not read the statement. All I have really done sir, is to act as her courier on this occasion."

"H'mph! Parsing the damn' truth again, Rabb!" Chegwidden grunted.

"Only in service of the real truth, sir!"

Chegwidden glared across the desk, "Dismissed!" he uttered in a hissing snarl.

Rabb, well aware that he had really pushed the limits this time, snapped to attention and replied "Aye, aye, sir!" before executing a drill-field perfect about face and marching towards the door.

Chegwidden watched him go, and waited for the door to close behind his errant officer before allowing himself a thin-lipped grin. Rabb was good but he did need to be reminded every once in a while that while it was OK to bend the rules, he wasn't going to be allowed to climb in through a window, when it was his own CO who had closed the door. Yep, Rabb deserved some payback for his antics over this case. A slow smile dawned on Chegwidden's face. In his desk drawer he held two pairs of invitations to the British Embassy's annual Waterloo Day ball. He, Chegwidden, much against his inclination, would have to attend, and he was damned if he was going to suffer alone. So that was three tickets accounted for, all he needed now was someone to act as his escort for the evening.

Shaking his head for letting himself day-dream, Chegwidden returned to his task of perusing the list of trial counsel that he had asked Tiner to provide. For over two hundred names that fitted the parameters of rank and experience there were surprisingly few who had had no contact with Harmon Rabb.

A J reached for the intercom, but was beaten to it as the 'call' light blinked on, and Tiner's voice came out of the speaker, "Admiral, sir?"

"What is it Tiner?" he growled.

"Lieutenant Rabb would like a few moments of your time, sir."

Damn that family! Now what did the woman want? Notify him that she was going for a sex-change – no get it right, he told himself – gender reassignment surgery? "Alright Tiner, send her in!" And it was only after he'd told Tiner to allow her to enter, that he realised he just classified Rabb and Rabb as being members of the same family. He shook his head and smothered a rueful grin as he waited for the knock on his door jamb before barking, "Enter!"

The door opened and he took off his reading glasses the better to observe his subordinate as she walked across the expanse of carpet, a file folder tucked under her left arm. Halting in front of his desk, she managed a weak smile and a "Thank you for seeing me, sir."

Chegwidden sat up in his chair, and folded his arms across his chest in a characteristic gesture, the significance of which was not lost on Loren.

"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

"The Lindsey case, sir…" Loren paused to allow her CO to comment, but when no comment was forthcoming, she continued, "Commander Rabb asked me to make a statement concerning… a series of… meetings I had with Commander Lindsey. I was a bit hesitant, sir, but yesterday I typed out and signed my statement. Commander Rabb then told me that you had severed him from the case, and would be re-allocating it."

"H'mm… true… but you surely can't be asking for the case? If Rabb… if Commander Rabb is too closely involved, what would make you think that you could take it?"

"Oh, no, sir. I wouldn't want this case even if it were possible, sir."

"So, what do you want, Lieutenant? What brings you to my door?"

"Simply put, sir, cowardice."

Chegwidden looked at Loren in surprise, "Well, that's refreshingly honest, Lieutenant. Take a seat." He waited until Loren was settled and then asked, "Would you care to explain your last remark, Lieutenant?"

"It's quite simple, sir. I have made my statement, and signed it in the full expectation of submitting it to Commander Rabb. That way, it would be included in the case file, and it wouldn't matter if the original copy got wiped off my computer. As I said, sir, I was in two minds whether to make a statement or not, and I am afraid that if I don't pass the printed and signed version on to somebody, then I'll go into a funk, and end up shredding the hard copy and deleting the file from my computer. And I thought that if you were holding the file, pending re-assignment, then perhaps you were the right person to hold my statement, sir."

Chegwidden leaned back and steepled his fingers, just resting his chin against them, as his eyes bored like gimlets into Loren's, "Why all the hesitation, Lieutenant? If you were harassed by Lindsey, why not just come forward and say so?"

Loren dropped her eyes and looked at her hands, clasped nervously in her lap, "Because the early part of my statement doesn't show me in a particularly good light, sir. I am ashamed of the way I acted at that time, and for the reasons I acted as I did, and for the potential for harm that I created out of bitterness and disappointment."

"I see… Is that the statement?" Chegwidden indicated the folder on Loren's knee.

"yes, sir."

"May I?" Chegwidden held out his hand for the folder, which Loren slowly held out to him. He opened the folder and replacing his reading glasses started to read in silence. He hadn't read many lines when his eyebrows rose and he looked at Loren over the top of his spectacles, but except for a single snort, he made no sound until he'd finished reading. Then he closed the file and removed his glasses. Carefully folding them, he placed them on the desk to one side of his blotter, and cleared his throat. "That's a remarkably frank statement, Lieutenant," he said non-committally.

"Yes, sir."

"And not quite what I would expect to read coming from Loren Singer."

"No, sir."

"You do realise that this statement, as it stands, could be used to provide grounds for an administrative separation, or even charges being levelled against you?"

"Yes, sir. I do realise that, but I'm hoping that it won't come to that pass."

"So… why make the statement?"

"A variety of reasons, I guess. A degree of guilt, maybe. If I had been less outspoken to Commander Lindsey, then maybe he wouldn't have had so much ammunition for his attack on JAG. Maybe If I had come forward sooner, then perhaps he could have been stopped, and other women wouldn't have been… exposed to his methods." Loren gave a little crow of ironic laughter, "Of course, if somebody else had come forward beforehand, then I wouldn't have become involved, either!"

"But mostly, I think, because I am not the person I used to be. I've arrived at point where I don't like that person any more, so… I don't know… maybe I'm looking to start over with a clean sheet, and this statement is also a confession and a request for forgiveness…"

Chegwidden regarded Loren thoughtfully, although it had been years since he regularly appeared in a courtroom, he hadn't lost the knack of reading people, and he had the feeling that he had just been told the truth. He reached out for the intercom and pressed the 'call' button, "Tiner?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Bring me in Lieutenant Sing… uh… Rabb's file, please."

"Yes, sir!"

Chegwidden released the button and smiled apologetically at Loren, "Sorry about that Lieutenant – force of habit."

Loren forced a half-smile, "Yes, sir."

"And some habits Lieutenant are hard to break."

"Yes, sir."

"Nevertheless they can be broken. You can even teach an old dog new tricks these days, or so they tell me."

He broke off what he was saying as Tiner quietly entered the room and deposited Loren's SRB on the Admiral's desk.

A quiet, "Thank you, Tiner, that will be all," gave the Yeoman his dismissal, and again the Admiral waited until the door closed, leaving Loren and he alone as he donned his reading glasses, opened her file and started to skim through the relevant pages.

The minutes stretched into seeming hours and the only sound Loren could hear was the ticking of the clock on the wall. She desperately wanted to know just how long she'd been sat in silence, but for some reason became determined not to give in to that temptation.

At length the Admiral spoke, "Lieutenant, I've just been looking at four different aspects of your Service Record. They all seem to support the same conclusion. You are a good attorney – not perhaps quite as good as you'd like to think, but certainly good enough to earn and hold a place here at JAG, but you are an unsatisfactory officer and a pretty poor specimen of a human being." He held up a hand to still Loren's protest.

"However, even in the short time since your return from maternity leave, I, and doubtless others, have noticed a marked change in your attitude, demeanour and behaviour, both as a person and as an officer. But even in the past, despite the dubious nature of some of your actions, you never crossed the line and committed any act that would warrant a Page Eleven entry. But, you still were not recommended for promotion, nor will you be this year, although if your change of attitude continues then that will be commented upon in your next fitrep. However, you are now half-way through your time in zone, so next year will be your last. You will then have two more years during which time you may be picked up above zone, but both you and I know that the chances of that are less than three per cent. It will then be a case of up or out.

"I believe that you have the necessary moral fortitude to make good on the recent promise you have shown, and judging by his cheerful acceptance of you as a neighbour and as part of his extended family, so does Commander Rabb. Commander Rabb is a man that flies on instinct and makes rapid judgements based on those instincts; I don't think I've ever known him to be entirely wrong in his appraisal of a person, and over the years I have learned to trust his judgement.

"As for this statement, I will keep it on file with the rest of the evidence, and if Commander Lindsey should elect to face a Court Martial then you will in all probability be called to the stand as a witness. And as you know any and all aspects of your statement may be called into question. However, I shall resist any and all attempts to having you brought up on charges or subjected to adsep. I can't promise any more than that, Lieutenant, and the rest we will have to leave in the lap of the Gods! Oh, and on your way out, ask Tiner to step back in, please."

Loren got to her feet, "Aye, aye, sir… and…"

Chegwidden looked at her questioningly over the top of his glasses, his hand already reaching for a pen, "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Thank you, sir."

Chegwidden just nodded, acknowledging her thanks and dismissing her in the gesture. "Don't go thanking me yet, Lieutenant, I may not be able to save your ass in the end!" he said quietly to himself as the door closed behind her.

"Sir?" Tiner's voice roused him from his introspection.

"Tiner, you'd think that out of nearly two hundred JAGs of the rank of Lieutenant Commander to Captain there would be more than just a dozen or so who had no contact with Rabb, wouldn't you?"

"Uh… yes, sir"

"Well you'd be wrong! Cut TAD orders for Commander Samiel Baxter from China Lake, and Commander Barbara Saunders from Mayport to TAD here for an unspecified period of time to report Monday at oh nine hundred."

Tiner had been scribbling furiously on his notepad. "Accommodation, sir?"

"Good point: VOQ Anacostia."

"Aye, aye, sir!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm crossed the bull-pen towards Mac's office, and not without a degree of trepidation, knocked on her door jamb. Mac looked up, and after a second of looking blankly at him, managed a weak half smile, and motioned him to enter.

Harm carefully left the door open, and indicating the visitors' chairs he asked, "May I?"

Mac closed the file she'd been studying, "Sure, whatever."

Harm winced, not exactly the welcome he'd been hoping for although he hadn't really known what to expect. Mac's reaction to yesterday's revelations of how he felt about some of her trial handling had been uncharacteristically subdued. He had been prepared for her to be aggressively defensive, and he admitted to himself that her almost non-reaction had thrown him off-balance.

Taking his seat he opened the James' file and looked expectantly at Mac, who waved a casual hand in the direction of her open door and asked, "Given that you haven't closed the door, dare I assume that you haven't come to show me more of the errors of my ways?"

Harm heard the barely concealed icy anger and sarcasm, and shook his head gently, "No, Mac, that was not my intention, even yesterday. It was you who opened that particular can of worms. And it hurt you. And I'm sorry that it did, and I'm sorry that I was the instrument of that hurt, but…" he took a deep breath… "It was obvious that you still felt pretty strongly about me asking Manetti to trawl for information without letting you know, and I guess in hindsight it was pretty insensitive, and trust me, If I'd had any idea that my investigation would look like putting me in Leavenworth, I would have kept you in the loop from the start, and I am sorry that I didn't do that."

"Why? Because it would have kept you off the list of suspects?"

"No… not really, but because my lack of trust in you nearly broke our friendship."

Mac nodded, and mustered a shaky smile, "It nearly did, more so than your honesty yesterday. But if you didn't come to hash over yesterday, what can I do for you today?"

"Master Gunnery Sergeant James. Have you had an opportunity to go through his file yet?"

"I've looked at it, yes."

"It looks like a pretty open and shut case to me, counsellor, charges under Articles 94, 106a and 108."

Mac shot him a sharp glance, "Sedition and espionage, Harm? Isn't that coming on a bit strong?"

"I don't think so, Mac. Enemies foreign and domestic; overthrow of civil government; all have the lesser included offences of attempting, aiding or conspiracy. And don't forget the Article 108 is a blanket charge for all the missing weapons. I could raise a separate charge for each rifle."

"Those charges are potentially capital charges, Harm," Mac objected, "And I don't think that raising separate charges in respect of each weapon is a runner. It smacks too much of over-vigorous prosecution." It wasn't quite the same as Harm's charge against her, but damn, it felt good to slip it in.

"They are, and it might, but there is precedent" he agreed, but simultaneously qualifying that agreement, "but if he pleads guilty at his article thirty two, I'll take the death penalty off the table. He does life at hard labour, with the possibility of parole after twenty five. Dishonourable discharge, busted down to E-1, forfeits all pension and benefits."

"Harm, I haven't even had the chance to speak with him yet. I'm trying to get him moved up to the Navy Yard brig, so that I don't waste time running back and forth between here and Lejeune. Can I get back to you on this one, once he's been moved?"

Harm nodded, Mac's request was more than reasonable; for her to accept a plea bargain before talking to her client would highly unethical. Still, it wouldn't damage his case to let her know what sort of penalty her client could well be facing.

"That's fine, Mac, but when you do speak with him, remind him that if he goes to court, he's literally betting his life on the reaction of the panel, and they will probably feel that he's betrayed them on a personal level."

"Running on emotion again, Counsellor?"

"You bet your li… No, you'll be betting your client's life!" he replied getting to his feet.

Mac nodded again. She was all too well aware that an acquittal in this case was the merest possibility, but she was bound to fight her hardest on behalf of her client.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Chegwidden read the fax that had just come in from Pearl Harbour. He read it again, and then having reached the end, read it for a third time. Then he groaned, and fumbled in his desk drawer for his bottle of aspirin. At this rate, the next time Tiner went on a pharmaceutical replenishment run, he'd best tell the Yeoman to get the Jumbo Giant Economy bottle of the little white tablets.

If what Lieutenant (jg) Pearson had written in her statement was true, then there was no way in hell that he could keep the lid on this pot. Damn Lindsey! Damn SecNav Nelson! Damn Captain Ridgely! And damn Lieutenant (jg) Pearson!

However, before Chegwidden could even start to formulate any plan, his direct line 'phone rang. Chegwidden sent a look of total loathing at the inoffensive piece of technology. Only very few people had access to that number, and he was willing to bet that whoever was calling him now, was not about to make his day any better.

"Chegwidden!"

"Chegwidden, this is Secretary Sheffield! Does the name Lieutenant (jg) Elizabeth Pearson mean anything to you?"

"Yes, Mister Secretary, unfortunately it does," Chegwidden admitted.

"H'mph, did you know that Pearson hails from Detroit?"

"No I wasn't aware of that."

"Or that Pearson has been in touch with her Congress Representative today, complaining that she's being harassed by the US Navy's JAG Corps?"

"No Mister Secretary I was not aware of that either!" By now a cold feeling had settled in Chegwidden stomach, he had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly where this conversation was headed.

"Would it surprise you to learn that Pearson's Congressional representative sits, not only sits, but heads the Congressional Armed Forces Committee, and that she is a leading light in the fight for full gender equality across the armed forces, and that her name is…"

"Bobbie Latham!" Chegwidden finished with a groan.


	44. Pearls

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 44  
>Pearls<strong>

Harm was on the verge of securing for the day when Loren tapped on his door frame, and in response to his invitation to "park your six" sank down into one of the two visitors' chairs in front of his desk, where she folded her hands in her lap and regarded him gravely.

Her silence prompted Harm to examine her more closely, and to his dismay he saw that the stress lines at the corners of her eyes and from the outside edges of her nostrils to the corners of her mouth had reappeared; lines that had virtually disappeared since Sasha was born.

"Want to tell me what's upset you, Loren?" he asked gently.

"Is it that obvious?" she asked bitterly.

"Only to someone who's known you for more than ten seconds, and is within a hundred miles," Harm tried to see if a little humour would help. From Loren's lack of reaction, he decided that, no, it probably wouldn't.

"OK," he pushed his chair back from the desk, stood, and then perched on the front corner, "Give?"

Loren sighed, "I just gave my statement to the admiral…"

"Statement?"

"Yeah, the Lindsey case… but…"

"But what?"

"But why do I feel like I may just as well have handed in my resignation?"

Harm grimaced in sympathy, but asked, "Was it that bad?"

"Well, the Admiral left me in no doubt that he wasn't very happy with me, but he did sort of say that he'd try and save my career, although he told me that he wouldn't be recommending for my O-4 Boards this year, and then he reminded me that next year would be my last in the zone. After that…" Loren shrugged, "Well… you know the odds on being promoted or even being able to stay in."

Harm leaned forward, his elbows on his desk as he fiddled with an ornamental paperweight, the afternoon sun striking through its dark amber and revealing the Lacewing trapped in its depths some 150 million years ago, "It's still not a done thing Loren. You're a damn good attorney, with the right instincts… it's just that you need to focus a little less on whether you win or lose, and concentrate more on getting to the truth…"

"Yeah," Loren's expression was bitter, "the Admiral made his opinion of me as a person pretty plain."

"Then we've got a year to prove to the Admiral what Jen and I already know, and what even Dave Medwick, Skates and Keeter are coming to know, and that is you are a much better person than your past actions suggest." Harm grinned, "Tuna is a damn good judge of character, and if he sees something in you that has him haunting your doorstep…"

"Harmon Rabb!" Loren blushed crimson, "He does not haunt my doorstep! Why… I haven't seen him in nearly a week!"

"That's only because he's flying Bravos this week!" Harm grinned back at her, and then with an air of smug superiority added, "And he was the one who went with you to buy your new car!"

"So what if he did?" Loren asked defensively, the colour still bright in her cheeks.

"Well… you know what they say if a guy asks a girl to help choose a car?" Harm asked slowly, with the light of mischief in his eyes.

"No, what?" Loren demanded suspiciously.

"Oh… just that he might as well buy her a ring on the same day…"

"It's nothing of the sort! David and I are friends… and that's only because of Sasha!" Loren protested vehemently.

"Yeah, right!" Harm smirked and the started singing under his breath, "David and Loren sitting in a tree…"

"Oh! You are impossible!" Loren exclaimed halfway between anger and amusement as she stood, "See you in the parking lot in ten?"

"I wouldn't miss it for worlds!" Harm assured her earnestly

Loren looked at him dubiously, almost certain that another quip was being readied to fire in her direction, "Yeah, right…" but when Harm just sat and grinned at her, she found herself unable to resist his smile, and a reluctant grin spread across her face in reply.

"Thanks, Harm."

"You're very welcome!" he assured her, but then as she quit his office, his face resumed sterner lines and he slowly shook his head. It was going to be tough to turn the Admiral's opinion around in just fourteen months!

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

A J Chegwidden sat with bowed head, his left arm, the hand of which was holding the telephone to his ear, propped on his desk, while the fingers of his right hand pinched the bridge of his nose, "No, Mister Secretary, I don't know what the hell happened at Pearl, but…."

"_You damn-well find out, Admiral! And when you've found out what happened, I want to know who did it, and I want their head, or heads on a silver salver, so I can serve it up to that Latham woman's committee! And A J, I want to know everything, ASAP! Understood?"_

"Yes, Mister Secretary!"

The loud click, followed by silence suggested that the SecNav had replaced his phone in its cradle with unusual vigour. Chegwidden looked at the 'phone in his hand with even more dislike than previously and with a heavy sigh overrode his inclination to hurl the lump of plastic at the nearest wall, set it down, and then leaning forward, pressed the 'call' on his desktop intercom, "Tiner?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Get me Admiral Jefferson at Pearl. And, Tiner?"

"Sir!"

"I don't want to hear that he is out of the office, or that he is in a meeting, or that he is unavailable. I want to speak with him personally, not his XO, not his CoS, Admiral Jefferson himself. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Chegwidden heard his Yeoman's gulp of dismay. By telling Tiner that no excuse would suffice for not being able to speak with Jefferson, he had put Tiner somewhere between a rock and a hard place. Still, there had to be some perks in being the JAG!

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm had managed to persuade Loren into a slightly more cheerful frame of mind by the time they'd got home to Annandale road, but she still wasn't in a positive frame of mind, rejecting, albeit politely the offer of a visit with Jen and a cup of tea.

Jen and Harm stood by the breakfast counter in their kitchen and watched Loren cross the yard to the ranch house. Both had a worried frown on their foreheads, "You know, Jen, she's being pretty brave about all this, but I think she's really worried that she's scuppered her career."

"Would that necessarily be a bad thing?" Jen asked from the security of her husband's arms.

"Jen!" Harm protested.

"I mean, it's a navy thing isn't it, not Bar Association trouble? Loren's a good attorney; I've heard you say so often enough. She could easily find a better paying job as a civilian attorney…"

Harm dropped a kiss on the top Jen's head. "That's true… but you and I both know - you perhaps better than I – that while being an attorney is important to Loren, being a naval officer is equally important, if not more so."

"H'mm… yeah, true enough."

"You're still not going to tell me what passed between you two on Mom and Frank's sun-deck are you?"

"I hate having a secret from you, and I would tell you what we talked about if it was my secret, Harm, but it's not. We've never talked about since that night, and I wouldn't… well… I just wouldn't be comfortable raising the subject again."

Harm nodded his agreement and then continued in a hopeful voice, "Still, we shouldn't give up Loren's career just yet. The Admiral says he'll do his best to watch her back, and if he'd said that to me at any stage, I know I'd have been very comfortable with that thought. But… "

Jen craned her neck so that her head was tilted up and around so she could squint into his face, "But…?" she asked

"But that only applies to this Lindsey case. Next year is Loren's last in the zone for promotion. If she doesn't get tapped, then she'll last a couple of years above the zone, and then she'll be separated… and God knows what that'll do to her. She's given up, temporarily at least, the idea of being the first female JAG, but if she has to leave the navy altogether… " Harm shook his head in worry.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Chegwidden sat immobile behind his desk speculating, a fruitless waste of time he told himself. But nevertheless, unable to prevent himself from running imaginary scenarios through his mind as he tried to get some sort of mental handle on what could have gone wrong with the simple orders he had issued. He wondered, had they perhaps been too simple? A moment's thought disabused him of that idea. No, he'd given Barney Jefferson the background to the case; that Lieutenant (jg) Pearson was reluctant to testify, but that testify – or at least make a statement – she must. His orders had been brief and clear, get a sympathetic female officer to interview Pearson, gain her trust and her confidence, and reassure her that the young woman had nothing wrong. So what the hell had gone wrong that turned a simple interview into a nightmare that threatened to bring unwelcome political attention to bear on the Navy's JAG Corps.

Chegwidden looked at his watch, again; for the eighth time in just over half an hour. His impatience growing, he was about to hit the call button and blister Tiner's ears for taking so long to make a simple 'phone call, when the instrument's strident ring had his hand change direction in mid-grab.

"Chegwidden!"

"Sir, this is Barney Jefferson… you wanted to speak with me?"

"Damn right I wanted to speak with you! I gave you simple instructions earlier, get a statement and send it to me! I did not tell you to create the biggest clusterfuck in the history of Naval Justice!"

"Sir… it would really help if you told me what the screw-up was?"

"The Goddam' Pearson interview – that's what the screw-up was! Get a witness statement, I said. Something a half-way competent first year law student should be able to do. But use tact, use sympathy, the witness may be unwilling to co-operate, I said! So…" Chegwidden drew a deep breath and then drawing a hand down his face from forehead to chin, continued in less strident tones, "why have I got Pearson's Congresswoman wanting to know why JAG is harassing her constituent?"

"Sir, I don't know why, but I propose to find out within the next thirty minutes and call you back, sir. By your leave, sir?"

"Yes, go ahead Barney… but for your information the Congresswoman in question is Roberta or Bobbie as she prefers to be known – Latham. Is the name familiar?"

"No sir… oh… wait… isn't she the chair of the Congress Armed Forces Committee, the one who tried to get the Osprey programme pulled?"

"Correct. The thing is Barney, you're in Pearl, but she and I are both in DC. Guess who she's going to be coming to for answers?"

"Yes, sir. I'll get on it right away!"

"Good. I shan't be going anywhere until I hear from you – and I'm getting hungry!"

"Yessir!"

Chegwidden replaced the handset in its cradle and with a groan of pure exasperation slowly drew both hands down his face. Dinner was going to be late tonight, but with any luck there might be a sandwich left in the galley fridge. Standing, he moved from behind the desk and crossed the office to the door, "Tiner I'm going to the galley to see if there's anything edible in the fridge. I'm expecting Admiral Jefferson to call back from Pearl, if he does within the next five minutes then come and get… oh… never mind…"

"Sir?" a mightily confused Tiner asked.

"Coffee for three in five minutes, Tiner!" Chegwidden snapped. His eye had picked up a flicker of movement through the glass double doors in the hallway beyond the bull-pen, his shoulders dropping in resignation as he recognised the short, stocky figure of the SecNav and the taller slender (some might say overly thin) figure of Congresswoman Bobbie Latham.

"And Tiner, once you've organised the coffee, get on the CP, and find out why I wasn't advised of this visit while they were being signed in! Then get the individual responsible up here, and keep him here until I've finished chewing him up and spitting him out!"

Tiner followed the direction of his principal's gaze and just about managed to stifle the 'oh shit!' that leaped to his tongue as he too recognised the visitors. "Aye, aye, Sir!"

Bracing his shoulders determinedly, Chegwidden advanced into the now-deserted bull-pen, "Good evening, Mister Secretary, Congresswoman Latham. This is an entirely unexpected…"

"Pleasure?" Bobbie Latham supplied, but the icy tone of her voice belied any positive feelings that her visit might have engendered.

Chegwidden remained impassive, although he gave a mental groan. He had suspected as much as soon as he had seen Bobbie Latham stride across the bull-pen, her heels rapping out a staccato rhythm on the polished floor.

Secretary Sheffield looked from Bobbie Latham to A J Chegwidden, and smiled, a small secret smile of satisfaction. He had heard that in the past that the fiery Congresswoman had crossed swords with JAG, but he yet been privileged to see a bout, and he didn't think that the Congresswoman and the Admiral had yet been personal adversaries. "Why don't we take this to a slightly less public forum, A J?" he suggested blandly.

Both Admiral and Congresswoman gave him a sharp look before Bobbie Latham turned her eyes back on A J, her head cocked at an inquisitive angle.

Chegwidden swallowed any annoyance he might have felt and with a fair degree of urbanity stood to one side and indicating the open door to his office said "Of course, Mister Secretary, Madame Congresswoman…"

Bobbie Latham swept past him imperiously, quite frankly looking at, and evaluating her surroundings, as chair of a committee part of whose purview was to approve – or disapprove – defence budgets, she could not help but be struck by the somewhat formal grandeur of the Admiral's office and allowed herself a disapproving sniff.

Chegwidden indicated that his visitors should seat themselves in the lather upholstered wing chairs that stood in front of his desk, while he took his seat in his accustomed chair, firmly retaining home field advantage.

"I trust you've grasped the reason for this… intrusion, A J," Secretary Sheffield asked.

"I suspect that you've come to talk about the Lindsey case," Chegwidden grunted sourly, "Although I fail to see any good reason for your interest in an internal Navy problem, Congresswoman?" Chegwidden finished on a rising inflection, making his statement into a question.

"Lindsey case, what Lindsey case?" Bobbie Latham protested sharply, "I have no interest in an internal Navy matter. I'm here because I want to know why one of my constituents is being harassed by the Navy's Judge Advocate General Corps!"

"In that case, Congresswoman Latham, I can't help you," Chegwidden stalled her interruption with a raised hand, "firstly because as yet I am unaware of any claims of harassment, and secondly if there was harassment, it is an offence against the UCMJ, and the proper… ah… forum for addressing such matter is through a Court-Martial or non-judicial hearing."

"Are you attempting to stonewall a Congressional inquiry, Admiral?" the Congresswoman replied incredulously.

"I was unaware of any such inquiry being undertaken, Ms Latham. But should one be convened then naturally you will find that the Judge Advocate General's Corps of the US Navy fully ready to co-operate with it in all matters that fall under its terms of reference."

Bobbie Latham, a successful attorney before turning to politics, had no difficulty in translating Chegwidden's statement. His change of her form of address from Congresswoman to Ms was a subtle hint that he knew she was – so far – acting purely as the representative of a member of the US Navy, while the remainder of his comment plainly indicated that while he would of course deal openly and frankly with a properly constituted Congressional inquiry, at the present, he would allow her only such information that would not compromise any possible disciplinary action.

Biting her tongue, Bobbie Latham forced her temper down, "Alright then, Admiral, I'll grant you that there is no Congressional inquiry – yet, but I'd still like to know why you are harassing one of my constituents; a constituent whose parents are not entirely without influence!"

"Well, Congresswoman," Chegwidden replied, "as yet, I've heard nothing but vague allegations of harassment. I have not been told what form this harassment is supposed to have taken, or when it happened. Until I have some specifics, then I'm no position to either confirm or deny that harassment took place. But…" Chegwidden's voice became stern, "I hope that, for your constituent's sake, no matter how generous her parents might be over the question of campaign funds, the allegations are proven, because USN Regulations take a very dim view of false complaints. On the other hand…" he once again stalled the Congresswoman's attempt at interruption, "If the complaints are well founded then the officer responsible for provoking the complaint can look forward to a very short and very uncomfortable naval career!"

Bobbie Latham looked consideringly at the former Seal at the opposite side of the desk; "Very well…" she rummaged in her purse and drew out an envelope, a standard but expensive looking piece of stationery, and then drew a single piece of paper from the envelope. "Before I go on to tell you what is written here, I must inform you that these are handwritten notes, made by me, recording the details of a telephone conversation I had earlier today with Lieutenant Pearson's parents."

Secretary Sheffield sat back in satisfaction. It looked like he now had a probative link between the sexual misconduct case against Commander Lindsey and the complaint raised by Lieutenant Pearson. The expression of satisfaction that passed over his face was not lost on Chegwidden, and not for the first time the former Seal reminded himself of the need for caution when dealing with Secretary Sheffield. The manner in which he had gone after his predecessor at the Senate Inquiry into the Kabir Atef affair was a warning to all that could read it of the depths and lengths this man would go in order to achieve his goals. That being said, however, would he be willing to stand up for and protect his department? And that Chegwidden determined sourly, was the sixty four thousand dollar question!

Oblivious to the silent by-ply being conducted between Secretary of the Navy and the Judge Advocate General of the Navy, Bobbie Latham smoothed the sheet of paper on her lap and started to read, only to be interrupted by a tap on the door, as Tiner, precariously balancing a loaded tray on one hand fumbled the door open with the other, and gently pushed it with a hip so it swung open to allow him access to the office.

"I thought you and your guests would appreciate some fresh-brewed coffee, sir?" Tiner said, as if the coffee had been his own idea. Chegwidden grinned wolfishly, Tiner's interruption couldn't have come at a better moment, his entrance having upset Bobbie Latham' composure.

"Thank you, Tiner, just leave the tray on the desk, we'll manage from there on in."

Tiner set the tray down on the desk and momentarily assumed a braced position, "Aye, aye, sir!"

Bobbie Latham waited, her foot tapping impatiently, and an expression of disdainful exasperation on her sharp-featured face, until she heard the door behind her close with a soft click. She cleared her throat meaningfully and raised an eyebrow as Chegwidden poured three cups of coffee, reach for the sugar for his own, and then gently nudging the tray towards his visitors.

"As I was about to say, Lieutenant Pearson…"

"JG," Chegwidden interrupted mildly.

"Excuse me?" Both of Bobbie Latham's eyebrows had ascended towards her hairline.

"JG, she's not a Lieutenant, she's a Lieutenant (JG)," the admiral explained patiently.

"Whatever." The Congresswoman waved off the Admiral's remark as if it were of no consequence.

"It's not 'whatever' Congresswoman. If you start any sort of action on behalf of Lieutenant Pearson, it will fail at the first challenge, on the grounds that there is no such person."

"But… but you've referred to her as Lieutenant…" Bobbie Latham protested.

"I have, it is a courtesy title used in informal situations. Just the same way as people refer to me, and address me as 'Admiral', when in fact on official papers I am 'Rear Admiral (Upper Half)', or perhaps it is easier if you recall your first contact with this office, with the then Lieutenant Commander Rabb, who was addressed by the courtesy title of Commander. The same applies today with Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie, who is informally addressed as 'Colonel', but when addressed or referred to on paper is always 'Lieutenant Colonel'."

Bobbie Latham regarded him through half-closed eyes, "Very well, 'Admiral'," – Chegwidden could almost hear the quotation marks, "Lieutenant (JG) Pearson complains that she was approached in front of her co-workers and that one of your JAG officers demanded that she make a statement concerning a Commander Lindsey's sexual harassment of her – completely disregarding any right to privacy she had, and then when she refused to make a statement and left her office, this… officer pursued her, assaulted her, and then threatened her with charges on the grounds that she failed to report, and still refused to report an offence against Naval Regulations, and with obstructing a JAG investigation, and then forcibly conducted to her to the JAG offices at Pearl and compelled her to make a statement! Now, what do you have to say to that – 'Admiral'?"

Chegwidden had been surprised that a senior JAG could have acted so crassly, but was totally stunned by the allegation of assault. "Frankly, Congresswoman, I am appalled… I spoke in person to Admiral Jefferson at Pearl Harbour, emphasising the need for tact and sensitivity in this case and advising him that the witness may be reluctant to co-operate… In fact I am waiting for a reply to a second…" he broke off to answer the buzz of the intercom, "What is it Tiner, I said we were not to be disturbed!"

"It's Admiral Jefferson on line one, sir. He insisted…"

"Very well Tiner, put him through." With an apologetic glance at his visitors he muttered, "Jefferson, Pearl Harbour."

A couple of seconds later brought the sound of the carrier wave to Chegwidden's ear, "Chegwidden!" he barked.

"Sir, Jefferson at Pearl, here. I'm sorry to take so long in getting back to you, but I've had to do a bit of digging in order to get to the truth!"

"Hold it one moment, Admiral. I've got the SecNav and Congresswoman Latham here. I'm going to put you on speaker 'phone!"

"Yes, sir!"

Chegwidden made the switch, "Go ahead, Admiral," he invited Jefferson.

"Sir, when I received your instructions this morning, I assigned the task of taking Lieutenant Pearson's statement to Lieutenant Commander Helen Walker…"

"Why that officer, admiral?" Bobbie Latham wanted to know.

Jefferson hesitated. "Go on, Admiral, Chegwidden encouraged him, "You may answer the Congresswoman."

"Thank you, sir. Madam Congresswoman, I detailed Commander Walker for the task because she is a young woman, recently promoted from Lieutenant, and therefore one with whom Lieutenant Pearson might find some degree of rapprochement. Walker, however, was required to be in court this morning, and left the Pearson file in her in-tray on her desk."

Jefferson's voice was beginning to show signs of stress as he continued, "You know Admiral that we have a mentoring programme in place here at Pearl, aimed at bringing on our younger attorneys. Well, Walker is mentoring a young Lieutenant, and this young attorney saw the file on Walker's desk and during her absence in court took it upon himself to interview Lieutenant Pearson, without referring his decision to anybody else. It appears that he used less tact than I had suggested to Commander Walker.

Chegwidden exploded, "Less tact! Less tact! Yes, he displayed less tact – but only if you lump, assault, intimidation and abduction under the same heading as tactless! Who the hell is this incompetent?"

"Uh… he's a Lieutenant Gregory Vukovic, sir."

"Very well. Here's what you are going to do: You are to relieve him of all investigative and litigative duties – effective immediately. He can cool his impulsive heels doing scut work until further notice. Ensure that any case he is or has been working on is absolutely airtight and handed off to a competent attorney. In the meantime, I shall be sending a senior attorney from this office to investigate this Vukofish's behaviour and if upon investigation his actions should warrant it then he can face an Article 32 hearing. And if it comes to that Admiral, I will be the convening authority! I don't know where he went to law school – and I'm beginning to doubt that he did, as well as to believe that he slept through NJS, but there is no room in the JAG Corps for bully boys. So if he is guilty, he can kiss any career as a Navy JAG goodbye, and I shall make it my personal business to notify the Bar Association of whatever State in which he is licensed to practice law of his actions!"

"Lieutenant Vukovic to be relieved of all field and courtroom duties and placed on desk duties, pending investigation into his activities, aye sir!"

"Good! Thank you, Admiral!" Chegwidden hung up the 'phone and looked across the desk at his visitors. Secretary Sheffield was nodding slightly, apparently in endorsement of Chegwidden's actions, while Congresswoman Latham continued to watch him appraisingly under half closed lids. "So… you'll discipline this reckless attorney of yours, and I take it that you'll no longer need Lieutenant (JG) Pearson's statement?"

"Unfortunately, Congresswoman, we do still need the statement." Chegwidden replied and turned his head slightly to include the SecNav in his next sentence, "In addition to accusing Commander Lindsey of sexual harassment, Miss Pearson also claims that when she reported Lindsey to her own senior officer, the occurrences were swept under the carpet and she was then offered her choice of posting – she chose Pearl Harbour."

Secretary Sheffield paled as he realised the implications of Chegwidden's words, but Bobbie Latham, less attuned to the navy way of doing things than perhaps she ought to have been merely looked puzzled and said, "I don't understand…"

"Bobbie," Secretary Sheffield abandoned formality, "We have just discovered an allegation of a cover up for criminal activity at the heart of the Pentagon. Now, not only will Lindsey have to be investigated, but every and any other officer named in Lieutenant Pearson's statement will also have to be investigated. Depending on just how widespread this behaviour proves to be, we are potentially looking at another Tailhook!"

"Oh… I see…" Bobbie Latham looked stunned for a second or two before the Congresswoman kicked in, and standing, she said decisively, "Admiral, thank you for your candour. I am happy that this Lieutenant Vikofish – or whatever his name is – will be suitably dealt with. Goodnight gentlemen!"

Bobbie Latham swept out of the office as the two men rose to their feet. SecNav looked across the desk at the Admiral and shook his head gently, "For a second or two there A J, we saw the woman, but only for a second or two before the politician kicked in. I'd lay a case of good bourbon that Bobbie Latham intends to make political capital out of this and in the not too distant future we will hear of a Congressional Sub-Committee being established to look into allegations of sexual harassment in the navy!"

"You won't find me taking that bet, Mister Secretary!" Chegwidden grunted.

"And Bobbie Latham had better not find any more evidence, A J! Get this case wrapped up and the guilty court-martialled before she has a chance to air the navy's dirty linen in public!" Secretary Sheffield collected his overcoat and hat from the side table where he had tossed them on entering the room, and casting a minatory glance back over his shoulder said, "Quick and clean, A J, quick and clean!"

"Aye, aye, Mister Secretary!"

Chegwidden waited until the SecNav had left the office before pressing the call button on the intercom, "Tiner?"

"Sir?"

"Cut orders for Commander Turner to TAD to Pearl – duration unknown – reporting to Admiral Jefferson on arrival, then get him booked to Pearl by the fastest possible means, and once you have got him booked, prepare an itinerary for him, copy to Admiral Jefferson as well as the usual file copies. And get hold of him now. I want to see him in my office ASAP!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Chegwidden released the call button and mentally reviewed his staff board. Turner going TAD to Pearl, MacKenzie and Rabb tied up on the James' case; that left him Mattoni, Imes, Roberts and Rabb. Imes and Mattoni were solid enough in the courtroom, but he wouldn't want to use them as investigators. Roberts – and Rabb, too – had good investigative instincts, but were too junior and too inexperienced to be able to carry out independent inquiries. H'mm he'd have to give some thought to switching the team assignments – if he ever got five minutes to do so!

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm still stood at the kitchen window, enjoying the feel of Jen in his arms, and wondering if there was any action he could – or even should – take to help Loren, he was jarred from his thoughts by the ringing of his cell 'phone. Jen muttered a muffled curse and twisted free to allow him room to dig the instrument out of his pocket.

"Rabb!"

"_Hey buddy, hope I caught you before you got to the Community Centre?"_

"Yeah, you did. What's up Sturge?"

"_I've just had Tiner on the line; the old man wants to see me ASAP. Apparently I'm TAD to Pearl, leaving Dulles on an AA flight at twenty two forty hours this evening, so I'm going to have to take a rain check on those hoops we were going to shoot_!"

Harm grinned, "Anything to avoid me whupping your six, hey?"

"_In your dreams, buddy, in your dreams_." Sturgis grinned back, and then his voice took on a serious note, "_I don't suppose you have any idea why I should be going to Pearl, and not you or Mac?_"

"Other than that we're tied up with the James case? No… not really…"

"_Come on buddy, we've known each other far too long. You're lying to me…"_

"Sturge, I may have an idea of what's going on, but I really don't know anything, and if you're going on an investigation, then I don't want to taint it by planting any of my pre-conceived notions in your mind. But I will say one thing: If I'm right, this could be big, really big… so watch your back buddy!"

Sturgis whistled softly, _"Do I take that advice literally or figuratively_?"

"My advice? For what it's worth, old pal, both ways!" Harm said grimly. Since Sturgis had said he was heading for Pearl, a sense of foreboding had settled on Harm. "Take care buddy."

"_Yeah… I'll do that. Thanks pal. I'll call you when I get to paradise_!"

"Yeah, see you when you get back!"

Harm closed the 'phone and slipped it back into his pocket, but couldn't slip the worried frown off his face quickly enough to prevent Jen from asking tentatively, "Harm?"

"Oh, that was Sturgis, cancelling our basketball session for this evening. He's on his way to Pearl on an investigation."

"Well… considering that you'd forgotten all about the basketball, I'd say you'd gotten off easily on this one. How much is it worth for me not tell Sturgis that you'd clean misremembered?"

"Oh…" Harm pretended to consider, "Umm… how about one of these?" he kissed her lightly on the lips.

"Ordinarily, I'd say that was enough, but it hasn't made you stop frowning. So give…"

"Sturgis is being sent TAD to Pearl; the only connection we've had with Pearl, up until the time I left the office was that Lieutenant Pearson thing… but that was being taken care of by fax and e-mail." Harm shrugged. "If this case has escalated to such a degree and so quickly as to make the Admiral send a senior attorney out to investigate it, then it's escalated enough to be giving me a bad feeling."


	45. Swine

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 45  
>Swine<strong>

Jen scowled across the breakfast table at Harm, she was still pissed off with him. It was all very well having an agreement never to go to bed angry at each other, but what happens when the trigger for the anger is what happens in that bed? She had reached the stage in her pregnancy when she was almost guaranteed to be woken during the wee, small hours by the pressure of the baby on her bladder, and it just wasn't fair that she should be kept awake by an inconsiderate oaf of a husband!

But under the irritation she felt lay the concern that was pretty well hidden, except to those who knew her well. Harm certainly fitted that description, but his own worries, the worries that had kept him tossing and turning all night, left him impervious to both wifely irritation and concern. He had fretted and worried most of the previous evening and even in bed had been unable to relax and sleep, and even now his troubled thoughts ploughed furrows across his brows as he distractedly stirred the by now almost cold cup of tea in front of him; his barely touched toast, now also cold on the plate, had been pushed to one side.

Jen smothered a yawn, a natural result of Harm's overnight restlessness had been to keep her awake too, until at last, in exasperation she had grabbed her pillow and the comforter from their bed and had, over Harm's startled protests, stalked out of their bedroom and into the 'spare' bedroom, where snicking the privacy bolt into place, she had wrapped herself in the comforter and buried her tearful face in the pillow and finally slept.

Now, Jen had the awful feeling that she had somehow broken something and wasn't sure if she knew how to fix it, but an attempt had to be made… "Harm?" she said tentatively.

Silence.

"Harm?" this time she was a little more assertive, but still he failed to react. Jen's temper started to boil again.

"Harm! Dammit! Speak to me!"

"Huh? Oh… sorry, Jen, did you say something…?"

"Harm, I'm worried about you sweetheart, I'm pissed at you too, but right now, I'm really worried. Please, don't just sit there brooding, Harm, talk to me."

Harm sighed, shook his head slightly, and took a sip from his now completely cold cup of tea. With a grimace of distaste he slid the cup across the table, and turned his troubled gaze on Jen.

Jen could hardly contain a wry grin, her psychology tutor would have instantly recognised Harm's delaying tactics, and would have had no hesitation in labelling them as 'displacement activity' and Jen had very little more doubt.

"Jen… I'm… I'm sorry… about last night… I didn't mean to, I didn't want to… I don't ever want to drive you from our bed, and I'm so, so sorry…"

The earnestness in Harm's voice and the misery in his eyes were enough to completely wipe out Jen's remaining irritation, and she slid her hand across the table and covered as much of his much larger hand as possible, "That's done, Harm. It's in the past. We can let it go… But what I can't let go of is seeing you like this. What is it? Is it the Pearson case?"

"Yeah," Harm agreed unhappily, "I've got a really bad feeling about this one. Talking to Lieutenant Martinelli, and with what you've said that Angie told you, I just don't see how Lindsey got away with what he's been doing for so long… I mean, c'mon, the guy is hardly an Adonis, is he? And his methods are little short of blackmail, yet without even trying, we've got Angie, Loren, Pearson, Martinelli, Toranama… and I've got a bad feeling that once any sort of news about this comes to light, then we'll have more witnesses coming forward… Just like the affair over at Colorado Springs, and yeah, even Tailhook. So what's worrying me – particularly with the Pearson case, is that someone higher up the food chain knows what's happening and has been covering up for Lindsey. I mean, doesn't it strike you as odd that Pearson, barely a year into a Pentagon posting suddenly, out of the blue, gets orders for Pearl? One of the most keenly contested billets? And if I'm right, Jen, then the fallout is going to cast a bigger shadow that Nagasaki, and anyone even remotely involved could see their career stalled, even you, because of your connection to me, because I'm probably going to be the one who'll be seen as having blown the lid off the pot!"

Jen shrugged, "Well, maybe, but I'm enlisted, Harm. Nobody's going to go after a Petty Officer just because she us 'connected' to a particular officer." She thought for a second, "And anyway it's pretty well a moot point, as I've been considering my options…"

"Oh?" Harm made an effort and pushed his concerns to one side as he turned his concentration on Jen, "How so?"

"Well… I'm doing pretty good on my Psych course, but it's going to take another three, maybe four years to complete it doing evening classes…."

"And?" Harm encouraged her as she paused.

"Well… my contract is up early next year… and I was considering not re-upping, but going to college full time for the eighteen months it would take to complete my degree and then re-enlisting in my current rate and rating and applying for OCS… but if the navy's going to be spiteful about this Lindsey thing, then I may just not bother with the second half of my plan!"

Harm listened in silence. Of all the things he'd been prepared to hear Jen say this was probably the least expected. After a few seconds' silence while Jen watched him anxiously, he replied, "Well, that's not something I saw coming down the pike! Are you sure about this?"

"No, Harm, I'm not. Not sure at all, it's just something I've been thinking about for a little while…" Jen let her voice trail off before she took a deep breath, "It's just that you helped me pull myself together… you believed in me, even when I'd almost given up on me and was heading for a BCD… and ever since then, you've been there for me, coaching me, supporting me, and I've kinda gotten used to using you as a crutch… and I figured it's about time I stood on my own two feet and achieved something by myself."

Harm blinked, rendered temporarily speechless, but after a long moment found his voice, "Well… that just goes to show how badly I've done!" he exclaimed. "Yeah, I've meant to be there for you, to support you. You're the woman I love, how could I be anywhere else, do anything else? But if you feel that you've achieved nothing, then I haven't been as successful as I should have been! Jen, you were the one who adjusted her attitude. You were the one who applied for and completed Legalman training, and got a jump in rate. You are the one who had made such an impact in JAG that within a few months the Admiral had you lined up as his next Yeoman. You did all that by yourself Jen… and it all happened before we fell in love… in fact," he added, cracking a grin, "it was your up and at 'em attitude that helped me to fall in love with you. So, whatever reasons you think you have for not re-upping and then re-enlisting later, you have nothing to prove… not to me, not to the world…" and this time he paused to add weight to his message, "And most definitely not to yourself!"

"Well, even so… it couldn't hurt if I did get a commission," Jen argued, "Even if I did no more than a twenty and out as a Lieutenant Commander, the pension and benefits would be better than for a Legalman – even a Chief. And did you know just how few Legalman slots there are for Senior or Master Chiefs? Damn few, and so, very few Legalmen get to beyond Legalman One, a lot of 'em cross rate to Yeoman just to establish a full career path."

Harm considered Jen carefully, thinking his way through what he could see as a verbal minefield, "Well, that just plays to part of my concerns, Jen. If I get targeted as the officer responsible for blowing the whistle on a scandal like this, it could backfire on your chances of getting to OCS even a couple of years down the road, after you've got your degree. Jen, there are officers still suffering from even the most remote connection with Tailhook. Unfortunately, the Navy has a long memory, and isn't always the most forgiving employer in the world!"

"Well, if the Navy is so petty minded as to bear a grudge against someone who revealed wrong-doing instead of against those guilty of wrong-doing, then perhaps it shouldn't be the Navy!" Jen shot back with some acerbity.

"The Navy's fine, Jen…" Harm sighed, "But it's made up of people… and sometimes people do the wrong-headed things for reasons they believe are right, like covering up scandal so that it doesn't reflect badly on an institution they love…"

"My Navy, right or wrong, huh?" Jen scoffed, and then continued in a reasoned tone of voice, "Look, Harm, you love the Navy too, right? But you love justice and the truth too, that's the way you grew up, and the ethics and morals you developed as a young man, and then at the Academy - don't they have an honour code there? Something about never lying? And isn't hiding the truth just lying by omission? So, you'll do what is right. And you're right, I will be standing right next to you, proud of you and proud of what you've done, in spite of all the other moral cowards who are content to lie just to protect the name of an organisation that has let its standards slip!"

Harm looked across the table in amazement, "What did I ever do to deserve you?" he asked Jen.

Jen smiled, "Oh, that's an easy one to answer; you let me love you and let me know that you loved me in return!" Then getting up, she quickly gathered the debris from their breakfast, and turning to him reached up and planted a soft, warm kiss on his lips, "But right now, I have to get going before Commander Manetti writes me up for being adrift! See you at dinner-time, sailor!" And with a wink over her shoulder she grabbed her cover and purse before heading for the front door and her battered old Ford.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Despite his doubts, Harm made a determined effort to maintain a cheerful front as he closed the Lexus' passenger door on Loren and walked around to the driver's side of the vehicle. One of the factors influencing his decision has been the still-visible worry lines between Loren's eyebrows and her drawn expression which matched his and suggested that she too had had very little sleep during the night.

Settling behind the wheel, he turned towards her and mustered a sympathetic grin, "Not looking your best this morning, Loren" he commented dispassionately, "Sasha keeping you awake?"

"Huh? Oh, no… not really…" Loren began and then threw in the towel, "Well… yeah… she is, but…"

Harm nodded and cut her off, "Look, if it's getting to be a bit of a strain, why don't you leave her with us for a night… Let yourself get a good night's sleep?" He suggested.

"I couldn't ask you to do that!" Despite herself, Loren was surprised by Harm's suggestion. True, he had told her repeatedly that he and Jen were there for both her and Sasha, but this offer had caught her totally flat-footed.

"You didn't ask – I offered!" Harm reminded her emphatically.

"Yeah – you did," Loren agreed, her doubts still audible in her voice, "But what about Jen? Have you asked her? And anyway," she continued, not allowing him to answer "Sasha's only part of the reason…"

Harm nodded, now at last, he felt that they were getting to the meat of the matter. "Lindsey?" he inquired.

Loren nodded, "Yeah… dumb, ain't it?" she said in self-deprecating accents.

Harm grinned, "Yeah, it is… a bit" he added hastily as he saw Loren's head swivel towards him and a frosty expression starting to cloud her face.

"I mean…" he floundered for a second, remembering to try and conceal his own misgivings, "There is no way we can stuff that particular genie back into the bottle… and we… nobody, nobody should try and do that. Lindsey has disgraced himself and the navy by his actions, but now he's been found out he's gonna pay. Your testimony will help put him out of a navy the uniform of which he has shown himself totally unfit to wear. So don't lose any sleep over that aspect of the whole affair!"

"I'm not!" Loren defended herself, "But I can't help worrying what effect my testimony is going to have… not just on my career, but on relationships at JAG… I've just started to try and get on better with people… trying to be less… sarcastic, hostile and angry… but when it come out that it was information that he got from me that fuelled Lindsey's report… what happens then? Who will have any time not just for Lieutenant Witch but also a Judas?"

Harm considered for a moment as he eased the Lexus to a stop about four cars back from a red light. "Okaaay," he conceded reluctantly, "that might cause a hiccup or two… but the two people he really went after were Mac and me, me in particular, and if everyone sees that we're still on friendly terms then they shouldn't have too many problems. After, it's not like you deliberately went out to sabotage JAG. Given the place you were in at the time, you couldn't vent to anyone you worked with, so you vented to the first sympathetic ear. It's not your fault that the ear led to a warped mind!"

"So, I'm not evil – just dumb and naïve!" Loren challenged again.

"Nope, not that neither!" Harm replied. "The way I see it, plenty of people vent their work frustrations to a friend. And at the time, you'd gotten into the habit of meeting Lindsey for a drink… for a coffee… whatever – the sort of things that friends do, and so you looked on him as a friend. You weren't to know he had a hidden agenda and that he would use your words – confided in friendship – as a weapon against the people with whom you work." He paused again, eyeing her shrewdly, "No more than you suspected he might try to jump your bones!"

Loren blushed red, "Don't, please don't remind me of that night!" she begged in suffocated tones, "It was such a shock and I've never been more humiliated… and afraid… in my life. I just wanted him to stop, to take his hands off me and… just go away, so that I could crawl into a bath, wash the feel and smell of him off me and just forget about the whole sordid mess!"

Harm was startled, from her words it suddenly seemed that Lindsey's attempt at seduction had gone further than just words. "Loren! Did he… I mean, were you… he didn't hurt you did he?"

"Oh, no. No, Harm, he didn't rape me, my knee prevented that, but he did forcibly attempt to kiss me, and his hands were all over… feeling me up, I think is the expression."

Even though every emotion was revolted by Loren's account Harm breathed a silent sigh of relief, "Well, that's plenty bad enough!" he declared as he pulled up at the JAG VCP and he and Loren showed their IDs to the smartly saluting Marine Lance Corporal, bringing their conversation to an end, although as Harm pulled into his marked parking bay he did manage a final word, "Chin up, Loren. As the whistle-blower I'm in just as vulnerable a position as you, and you don't see me fretting and worrying, now do you?"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Despite his brave words to Loren, Harm still felt unsettled and unhappy over the way the whole Lindsey mess was unfolding, and by late morning his sense of unease only deepened when two attempted calls to Sturgis' cell 'phone went unanswered – neither of them even going to voice mail. Shaking his head, unable to understand why his friend wasn't answering, and after checking the time for about the forty-eleventh time, Harm made the necessary calculation to allow for the time distance to Pearl and then tapped a few keys on his computer and waited for the Pearl Harbour telephone listings to appear on his screen. His eyes went directly to the number he wanted and after a few moments' further hesitation he punched in the necessary numbers and waited for the connection to be made…

"_JAG Ops, Senior Chief Yeoman Alvarez, Sir!"_

"Good morning Senior Chief; this is Commander Rabb at JAG HQ in DC. I've been trying to reach Commander Sturgis Turner, on TAD to Pearl, who should have reported in either late last night or first thing this morning…"

"_Good morning, sir! Yes, Commander Turner has arrived, but his flight was delayed and he arrived at HNL about an hour ago. He's in with the Admiral at the moment sir; shall I get him to call you when they're done?_"

"No, Senior Chief, thank you. Just tell him I was asking for him and that I'll call him back later, please."

"_Aye, aye, sir. Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?"_

"No, thank you. That's fine. Thanks, Senior Chief."

Harm hung up the 'phone; the news that Sturgis had safely arrived in Pearl ought to have allayed some of his misgivings, but paradoxically he now felt himself becoming more and more uneasy, and unable to concentrate on any of the files in his In-Tray, he gave up his attempts to be productive and in the hope that what passed for normal relations between himself and Mac had been restored, he levered himself out of his chair and strolled along the edge of the bull-pen until he arrived at her office door.

Tapping lightly on the door frame, still unsure of the reception he might get, he was relieved when Mac look up and across at him with a warm, friendly smile on her lips and in her eyes and a quizzically raised eyebrow. "Can I help you with something, squid?" she asked.

"Umm… yeah… maybe…" Harm admitted, nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Mac's eyebrows rose higher at this unaccustomed display of insecurity, so closing the file in front of her and replacing the cap on her pen, she nodded towards the two visitors' chairs, "Park your six, and tell me what's got your panties in a wad!"

Harm accepted the invitation with a grimace and sank into one of the chairs, "Is it that obvious I've got something on my mind?" he asked with a wry expression.

Mac's smile threatened to widen into a grin, "Duh… yeah, it's as plain as the nose on your face! Is it the James trial? I know I haven't gotten back to you about the plea-bargain, but I'm still waiting to hear he's gotten to DC from LeJeune!"

Harm risked a quick dig, "Well… you know the Corps, Mac… they do tend to take their own sweet time over non-essentials…"

Mac bristled and was about to deliver a verbal blast when something about Harm's voice and body language caused her to look at him again and then to reconsider her reactions. "You know, squid, you were treading on _very_ dangerous ground there. If I hadn't realised that it was a poor – very poor attempt at a joke then you'd be picking your six up off the bull-pen floor."

Harm managed a wry grin, while he respected Mac's hand to hand capabilities, he was just as well – if not better – trained, was taller than her by six or seven inches and outweighed her by about a hundred pounds, and although he hoped he would never raise a hand in anger against any woman, he had no doubts of his ability to restrain Mac without hurting her. Of course, he grinned wryly, that would put him at a disadvantage, as he had no doubts either that Mac wouldn't let considerations of that sort hamper her intention to cause serious harm!

Mac caught the flicker of a grin on Harm's face, and sat back in her chair, the beginnings of a smile just curving her lips, "OK, squid, if it's not the James case, what's gotten you all so hot and bothered?"

"Well… it's the Lindsey affair…" Harm began uncertainly, "It started out simply enough with an allegation of sexual harassment, but it's turning out like a cartoon snowball rolling downhill, with every turn it picks up more snow and gets bigger and faster until it's totally out of control…"

"Nice mental image, flyboy!" Mac congratulated him.

"Yeah… well… trouble is… it's not just the snow that's getting picked up, but also all the nasty little things that the snow was covering…"

"Such as?" Mac inquired.

"A long standing pattern of behaviour going back at least two years…"

Mac winced.

"And now it seems an equally long history of… of extortion, bribery, complicity and cover up. And the problem is, it's hitting very close to home – too close to home for me, so the Admiral has officially severed me from the case, and turned the investigation over to Sturgis." Harm shifted uncomfortably in his chair and hesitated.

"Go on." Mac's voice was soft and low-pitched as she gently urged Harm to keep talking knowing that if he shut down now it was unlikely that the subject would ever be raised again.

"Mac, last night the Admiral sent Sturgis to Pearl to interview a potential witness and to look into a potential case of witness intimidation… and ever since he told me where he was going and why, I've felt… uneasy. I know that you and he worked well together… eventually… on the Aiken case, and well…" Harm trailed off, his voice, posture and expression screaming his discomfort.

"And well, what?" Mac challenged softly.

"Well," a now red-faced Harm struggled to continue, "We know that when you're close to someone… you can – sometimes – get a feeling of how they are and where they are and…"

"Harm, I'm not really that close to Sturgis. It's not like it was when Chloe went missing, or when you ejected into the ocean… I just don't have that… link with Sturgis…" she replied apologetically.

Harm nodded unhappily and drew a deep breath. "I wasn't really expecting to hear you say anything different," he acknowledged, "but I figured it was worth asking…"

Mac nodded, "Yeah it was worth a try…" but the thought sent a shiver up her spine. Mac, despite being grateful for their so-far successful outcome, even now wasn't entirely comfortable with her so-called 'psychic' experiences.

"Uh… there is one thing more… It's kind of a favour I need to ask you…"

"Of course! Go right ahead and ask!" Mac answered emphatically, glad that the subject was veering away from her discomfort zone.

To Mac's surprise Harm seemed even more uncomfortable, "Well, it's like I said. It's a favour… but it's not for me…" He paused and tried to gauge the effect of his words on Mac.

Mac sighed, "Go on, squid, spit it out."

"Uh-huh. Y'know I said the case was hitting close to home… well that closeness is manifesting itself in two ways… firstly one of Lindsey's targets was a married Yeoman Two who now works with Jen, and whom I have met…"

"Ouch! No wonder the Admiral severed you!"

"Yeah, well I was going to recuse myself anyway, because…"

"Because?" Mac prompted him.

"Because the other element of closeness involves somebody we both know…"

Mac's eyebrows rose in mild surprise and she hastily ran under review those of her and Harm 's acquaintances that might have interacted with Lindsey and came up with one name, "Tracy Manetti?" she asked in astonishment. If Lindsey had tried his tricks with the SecNav's God Daughter, the he was either supremely stupid or supremely confident that he had enough protection to enable his getting away scot-free.

Harm hesitated, now almost unwilling to reveal the real reason for his visit to Mac's office, made a major effort and looked straight into Mac's eyes, "No, it was Loren." He at length said unhappily.

"Singer?" Mac exclaimed, and then as Harm's expression started to cloud, hastily added, "Sorry, Rabb!" Her face creased in a rueful grin, "You know, that's going to take some getting used to!"

Harm shook his head gently, "Not to me," he said to a visibly surprised Mac. He shrugged and continued, "It actually seems very right…"

Mac nodded as she thought she understood, here was Harm getting caught up in another of his obsessions, "So… what favour do you need to ask on behalf Lieutenant Wi... uh… Rabb?"

"Mac, I can't really betray confidences here, but Loren struck up an acquaintanceship with Lindsey the Christmas that we first met Jen… you know, when we kept her out of the brig over the holiday?"

Mac nodded. She'd been happy to help at the time, but given all that had happened in the interval she was still having some difficulty in getting over what she still saw as Harm's betrayal of her with Jennifer Coates... but, "Go on," she said, managing a neutral tone.

Harm winced inwardly, he could perhaps have phrased that better he thought. "Well, as you know Loren didn't have many – if any friends – here at JAG. Yes, I know!" he held up a hand to prevent Mac from interrupting, "Most of that was her own fault! So, she and Lindsey got into the habit of meeting, mostly at Benzingers' for a drink or a coffee, and as they got better acquainted, Loren started to view him as a friend. And as friends do, she vented her petty little frustrations with life and work. And…"

"And that's where Lindsey got his intel for his hatchet job! Damn it Harm! And damn Loren… Rabb, too!"

Harm nodded glumly, "Yeah, I figured you'd feel that way – and you're entitled to! But this is where the favour comes in…"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, Loren's made a full statement of all her dealings with Lindsey, from her verbal indiscretions to his attempt at getting her into bed as a reward for him putting in a good word for her with the SecNav, to his sexual assault on her. That statement is now lodged with the Admiral, and if the case comes to trial then her testimony will be part of the case against Lindsey."

"I still don't see where I can do her a favour, Harm." Although she made it a statement, there was just enough of a rising inflection to allow her comment to be viewed as a question.

"Mac, you and I were the main targets of Lindsey' report; if we can show support for Loren, and then once this story breaks we continue to show support it would go a long way in influencing other members of staff…"

"True, it probably would," Mac agreed, but then sitting forward again, she asked with an edge to her voice, "But why, in light of Loren's past words and deeds, would I be inclined to cut her any slack? Why shouldn't I rather make it my business to see that she pays for her past behaviour?"

"Firstly, because since Sasha arrived, she has undergone a total attitude adjustment – even the Admiral has noticed and commented upon it, and you must have seen some signs too. Secondly, we've all made mistakes, and some of us have been given a second chance and have been able to redeem ourselves, and is it so impossible that Loren should be given the same consideration …?" he looked so pointedly at Mac that she felt her cheeks redden as she realised he was referring in part to her own past stupidity, "And thirdly, if it need be, then because _I_ am asking _you - _my friend_ - _as a favour."

Mac dropped her eyes. "Harm, it might seem a small favour from where you're sitting, but as far as I'm concerned it's a hell of a big ask… and I don't know whether I can or will do what you ask. I'm not rejecting the idea out of hand." Mac raised her eyes to meet Harm's gaze and grinned weakly, "You've mustered another couple of good arguments, but I really would like to think - no I really _need_ to think - about it before I start offering unconditional support. But, in the meantime, I will try and not let my past dislike of Loren affect our future dealings with each other, OK?"

Harm smiled in gratitude, "Thanks, Mac. I do know it's a tough ask, and I do appreciate you hearing me out…"

"Don't thank me too much squid! I haven't agreed to anything yet!" Mac warned him.

"I know, Mac, I know. But… thanks anyway!"

Harm returned to his own office, if not completely easy in his mind, at least feeling a little less of his burden. He still felt uneasy over Sturgis' investigation at Pearl, and briefly toyed with the idea of calling the other Officer again, but after an overnight flight Sturgis was unlikely to accept any interruptions or distractions with any degree of equanimity, so Harm decided to leave his call until the following morning, when hopefully Sturgis would have some sort of handle on what had happened at Pearl.

As far as Loren's rehabilitation was concerned… well… he'd pitched his play to Mac, and although she hadn't been particularly encouraging – and he didn't really blame her for that – at least she hadn't dismissed his proposal out of hand. So, maybe, just maybe, Loren could still come out of this mess with a whole skin and continued tolerance from her co-workers.

Re-seating himself at his desk, he reached for the James' file from in his In-Tray and reading through the statement and specification of the charges, he reached for a legal pad, and started to draft his opening arguments for the almost inevitable article 32 hearing. However, scarcely a half-page of manuscript notes later he was interrupted by the desk-top intercom's buzzing.

"Yes?"

"_Tiner here, sir. The admiral would like to see you in his office, ASAP!"_

Harm bit back an exclamation of exasperation, after all, there was no need to make Tiner complicit in any displays of insubordination. "On my way, Tiner!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Harm crossed the bull-pen, half expecting to be joined by Mac as he did so, but she remained at her desk; obviously the summons was for him alone, so pausing at Tiner's desk he cocked an interrogatory eyebrow at the Yeoman, who responded with a rueful shake of his head, "Sorry, sir. No idea, except that you're to go straight in and join them."

"Them?" Harm countered.

"Two officers from the Pentagon, I think, Commander…"

Still mystified, Harm turned and rapped smartly on the Admiral's door jamb and waited for the gruffly voiced, "Enter!"

Crossing the expanse of carpet Harm became aware of two officers already in the leather wing-chairs, one he saw was a Commander wearing the star of a Line Officer on his sleeve while the other he recognised as Lieutenant Martinelli!

Wondering just what the hell was going on now, Harm halted, "Commander Rabb, reporting as ordered, sir!"

"You took your own sweet time, Commander!" Chegwidden barked at him, "But at least you're here now. Take a seat!"


	46. Maternal Mind Melding

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 46  
>Maternal Mind Melding<strong>

Harm settled himself in the remaining wing chair, giving Martinelli a nod of recognition as he did so, and then returned his full attention to the Admiral.

Chegwidden fixed his subordinate with a steely eyed glare and then clearing his throat he said, "Commander, you already know Lieutenant Martinelli. This is Commander Mackenzie," the former Seal allowed himself a tight-lipped grin of amusement at the surprise on Harm's face; a surprise which he quickly mastered and nodded a greeting at the visitor, "Commander."

His greeting was returned just as laconically and before the admiral could interrupt, but now he glowered at the three junior offices on front of his desk and growled, "Commander Mackenzie is Lieutenant Martinelli's immediate Reporting Officer, and is present at her request. Now that we've got the social amenities over with, I'm going to tell all three of you – just so there's no misunderstanding – what is going to happen in this case from here on in!

"Lieutenant Martinelli, I understand that you chose to come forward with your allegations, and that further you came forward specifically to Commander Rabb?"

"Yes, sir." A tight-lipped and very unhappy appearing Martinelli replied.

"Leaving aside for the moment the fact that by approaching a JAG directly, you circumvented the chain of command, why the Commander?"

"Because… I'd heard good things about him, sir. And then once I'd spoken to him, I knew he'd believed me and would take action – the appropriate action."

"H'mm, that's a pretty strong recommendation for you, Rabb!" Chegwidden commented before turning his attention back to the lieutenant.

"I've called you in, Miss Martinelli, to inform you that I have officially severed Commander Rabb from this case…" he held up a hand to ward off Martinelli's reaction, "Don't interrupt me, Lieutenant! It won't look good on your SRB!" He smiled slightly to soften the rebuke and to show that he wasn't being entirely serious about the threat to her record, and then continued, "I can understand your frustration, and even anger, at having your chosen attorney taken off the case, but the unfortunate fact is that your statement has sparked off an investigation that has the potential to be far more damaging, and far more wide reaching than was at first realised."

He drew a breath, "Initial enquiries have brought to light the names of four other female members of the navy who have stated that they were also the subjects of improper advances by Commander Lindsey, unfortunately one of those other women is a friend of the Commander's wife, and another is none other than his… what exactly is Lieutenant Rabb's relationship with you, Commander?"

"Uh… my mother considers the Lieutenant to have been adopted by her, sir, and given that my brother isn't married to her, we've decided that the easiest way to explain things is to define her as my step-sister, sir."

Chegwidden considered for a moment before he snorted, "Legally of course, Commander, that is pure hogwash! But… considering the… the… the closeness that has sprung up between you, common sense suggests that it is a reasonable compromise! So… Lieutenant Martinelli, I hope you understand why it was necessary to pull Commander Rabb off the case?"

Lieutenant Martinelli stared evenly at the Admiral, "I do understand, sir, but I'm not happy about it." She paused for a few seconds; her bottom lip caught between her teeth, before she visibly braced herself, and continued, "What if I retract my statement, sir?"

Chegwidden looked at her sternly, it was not that he lacked sympathy for the young woman, God knows, she had been put through too much already. Lindsey's harassment of her on its own was too much to have happened, let alone having an admiral brow-beat her! But events had already overtaken her; there was no way that she could withdraw her statement now.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant," he said as gently as he could in the circumstances, "but an attempt by you to withdraw your statement would lay you open to several disciplinary charges, including failing to report an offence, and obstruction of a JAG investigation, and would also result in you being subpoenaed to testify."

"Oh! That is so not fair!" Martinelli exclaimed, her voice rising in both pitch and volume.

"Stand down, Lieutenant!" Chegwidden barked, all at once the senior officer again. "I understand your disappointment, but I will not tolerate outbursts of that kind! Is that clear?"

Martinelli glowered at him, until she was brought back to reason by the quiet, calm voice of Commander MacKenzie, "_Dolcemente, Cara, perderlo con un ammiraglio non sta per aiutare!"_

Martinelli flashed him a grateful half-smile, "_Si, grazzi!"_

Harm shot Chegwidden an anxious look, having a feeling about what was about to happen, but to his relief, he saw the admiral's eyes light up with pure amusement as he said, "The Commander's right, Lieutenant, losing your temper with me isn't going to help you at all!"

The admiral broke into a short laugh as red-faced confusion overtook his two visitors, while Harm just about managed to hide a smile behind his hand.

"What? You assumed that I wouldn't understand Italian?" the admiral queried, still very much amused with the reaction his words had caused, "Italian wife!" he explained succintly.

Both MacKenzie and Martinelli flushed red, "Sorry, sir" the abashed Commander muttered.

Chegwidden nodded, his face still relaxed, "Apology accepted, Commander, but may I suggest that you don't make a habit of assuming that others, particularly those who outrank you, are deficient in foreign language skills?"

"Yessir! Thank you, sir!"

"Good! Now, back to business. Unfortunately, I have no-one in this office able to take-over the case from Commander Rabb – that is no reflection on my staff's abilities, but there is a risk of them not being seen as impartial, in that their perception of Lindsey may have been compromised by some of his recent activities, and also by the fact that his previous billet was in this office as my predecessor's deputy. Therefore I have had orders cut for two attorneys, who have no known connection to either Lindsey or Rabb, to be temporarily attached to this office with the aim of bringing this case to a successful conclusion. They are due to arrive Monday, and I trust, Lieutenant Martinelli that you will give your whole-hearted co-operation to Commander Barbara Saunders, who will be taking over the investigation of Commander Lindsey. Rabb, you will ensure that every single scrap of paper, every thought and word you have on this case is handed over to Commander Saunders. You will then dismiss all thoughts of this case from your mind, and concentrate on the cases that I allocate to you!" He glared at all three juniors, "Is that understood by everybody?"

Only partially assured by the chorused, "Yes, sir!" that greeted his pronouncement, Chegwidden looked intently at each of them in turn before barking out, "Very good! Dismissed!"

With a further chorus, "Aye, aye, sir!" the two Commanders and the Lieutenant rose to their feet, braced into stillness for a couple of seconds before about-facing and exiting the office.

Harm waited until they were clear of Tiner's desk before he turned to the obviously still upset Lieutenant Martinelli, "I am sorry about all this Lieutenant, but once my family became involved in this case, then the admiral had no option but to sever me from it, and to be truthful, I came to him first to inform of the case and to tell him that I would have to recuse myself, on those same grounds."

Martinelli looked up at him, anger still evident in her face, and fixed her dark eyes firmly on his, "Oh, I understand alright, sir! After all, you didn't want the case in the first place did you!" She braced to attention for a split second and then before Harm could formulate an answer she spun on her heel and stalked across the bull-pen to the door.

"Wow..." Harm breathed, unsure whether to be angry at her words and demeanour, or relieved at her departure.

"I'm sorry, Rabb, Lucia has most definitely inherited an Italian temperament!" MacKenzie apologised for his junior.

"Not to worry, MacKenzie," Harm grinned, absently mindedly rubbing the faint scar above his right eyebrow, "It could have been worse!"

Phillip MacKenzie smiled, relieved that Rabb wasn't going to make a fuss over Lucia's actions, and was emboldened enough to ask, as he indicated Harm's hand and head, "Italian girlfriend?"

"Huh? Oh... no, just a pissed off wife!" and both men laughed. MacKenzie shook his head and offered Harm his hand, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Commander – but I'd better get after Martinelli before she gets tired of waiting and leaves me stranded here!"

Harm nodded his understanding, "You too, Commander, and I need to get going as well – I need to call my wife, and I don't need her to get to the stage where she starts throwing things again!"

With another shared grin, the two officers nodded their farewells, and while MacKenzie headed for the exit, Harm turned towards his own office.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Commander Jack Keeter had, after making sure that there was nobody around dropped a swift, soft kiss on Lieutenant Commander Elizabeth Hawkes' cheek, and ignoring her protest of "Jack! For God's sake! It's broad daylight and we're both in uniform!" he opened the Ford's passenger door, climbed out of the vehicle, and stooping, poked his head back in through the open door and grinned.

"But you still love me, don't you?"

Skates looked at him in exasperation, "Sometimes – like right now – I'm not sure that I do. You drive me crazy, Jack Keeter!"

"And that's just the way I'd like you!" he grinned cheerfully.

Skates felt the blood rise to her face as she caught on to Jack's innuendo, and once again gave thanks to her dark-skinned forebears that her blushes weren't all that obvious. "Go on," she snapped, "get out of here!"

Jack took his abrupt dismissal in good part and sauntered across the street to the doorway to the BOQ, while behind him Skates let her frown dissolve into an indulgent smile, "He's just like a big kid!" she said out loud, before re-engaging the Ford's gears and turning the car in a wide circle to head for the exit from the parking lot. As she did so, she noticed a vaguely familiar old and battered blue and white Ford pick-up, with its hood raised and a flight-suited figure hidden from the waist up as it delved into the truck's engine compartment.

Rolling to a stop in front of, and at ninety degrees to, the pick-up, she wound down her window and called out, "Car trouble, sailor?"

Tuna Medwick jerked up at the unexpected sound of a voice, catching the back of his head on the front edge of the hood, "Shit!" he exclaimed, and then seeing who had accosted him, paled, braced to attention, and said, "Ma'am, sorry, ma'am! You caught me off guard! Yes, ma'am this piece of shi... junk, has decided it doesn't want to come out and play today!"

Skates grinned at her old friend's confusion, "Don't worry about the cussing, Tuna, I said much worse than that about my old Volvo!" Then as she took in the significance of Tuna's flight suit, Skates forehead creased in a frown, and she glanced at her watch, "Aren't you flying Bravos this week, Tuna?"

"Yes, ma'am. I was going to give the truck one more try at starting, and then if it was a no-go, I figured I could double time across to the flight line, and just about make it!"

Skates shook her head, "Grab your stuff, and get in! I'll give you a ride! After all we can't have these other weenies laughing that a Raptor was adrift!"

"No, ma'am, that we can't!" Tuna agreed fervently as he hastily wiped his hands on a piece of rag, grabbed his flight bag from the truck and jumped into the seat so recently occupied by Jack Keeter, "Thanks, Skates," he said fervently, as he buckled his seat belt.

"Nothing to it, Tuna!" Skates waved off his thanks, "So... what's wrong with the truck?"

"Dunno... the electrics seem fine, the engine's turning over just dandy, but it's not catching..."

"Well if it ain't starting, then it's either electrical or a fuel problem!" Skates said complacently, well aware that she was stating the blindingly obvious.

"Gee, ya think?" Tuna scoffed.

"Nah... interferes with my digestion!" Skates came right back at him, and then relented, "So you're stuck without a ride?"

Tuna nodded glumly, "yeah, until I get that thing fixed! It doesn't matter so much today, but I've just received orders to rejoin the Squadron on Monday, and as am I'm rostered off CAPs this weekend, I was hoping to get to Falls Church bright and early tomorrow."

"Whereabouts in Falls Church?" Skates asked idly.

"Um... Annandale Road..."

That caught Skates attention, "You going to see Hammer?"

"Uh... no... I'm going to see Loren Rabb."

"Who?" Skates demanded in surprise.

"Loren, the blonde JAG with the baby. She lives in the ranch-style house behind Hammer and Jen."

"Do you mean Lieutenant Singer?" a now thoroughly baffled Skates asked as she drew up outside the flight line.

"Uh... yeah, well... she used to be Singer, but she changed her name..."

Skates shook her head slightly, "You don't have time for us to get into this right now. But if that truck won't start in the morning, give me a call, OK? I'll be happy to give you a ride to Falls Church – and I confess, you've gotten me curious about what sort of mess Hammer's got himself into this time! You can get my cell number from Ops!"

"Yeah... OK... but..."

"Stop arguing, Tuna and get out of here – otherwise you'll be adrift!"

Tuna checked his watch and gave a yelp of dismay before reaching over the back of his seat and grabbing his flight bag from the rear seat, "Thanks, Skates!" he flashed a grin at her and almost fell out of the Ford in his haste.

Skates slowly shook her head with a bemused smile on her face as she watched him head for the briefing room at a run.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm spent the remainder of the morning re-reading the arrest reports on the James' case. The marine hadn't been arrested at the militia camp, but had instead been given up by one of the militia leaders as part of a plea-bargain. James had been arrested as he'd arrived for at the base armoury for work the following morning before the news of the FBI-led raid on the militia compound had broken on the various local and syndicated news channels.

Reading through the arrest report and the short statement under caution James had made to NCIS, Harm started to draft rough notes for his opening argument at trial, breaking off only at midday to grab a mug of coffee from the break room.

Returning to his desk he took sips from his coffee as he once again worked through the transcript of James' initial interview by NCIS, until he was disturbed by a double tap on his office door jamb. Looking up, he smiled a welcome, and beckoned his visitor in, "Hi Mac, come on in and take a seat."

Mac did as she was invited, smoothing her skirt beneath her as she took a seat in one of the visitors chairs, before she sat back and crossed her ankles, one hand resting in her lap while the other played with a strand of her hair, which Harm noted with just a touch of inner amusement that she had once again tinted; this time with a slightly reddish tint which highlighted the touch of auburn in her natural hair colour.

"What can I do for you, Mac?" he asked, closing the file that lay on his desk.

Mac nodded in the direction of the file, "The James case?" she asked.

"Yeah, 'tis."

"Well that's what I wanted to speak with you about. I've had word that he's finally being moved to the Navy Yard tomorrow. So... I figured I'd go interview him on Monday, right after staff call..."

Harm raised an ironic eyebrow, "And?"

Mac shot him a glare that if not angry, showed more than just a hint of impatience, "So... I figured, that as I would have to be present when you speak to him, you might have the professional courtesy to accompany me on Monday and save me making a second visit!"

"Ah... so, your comment that you intended to interview James on Monday, was in fact, a veiled invitation for me to accompany you, was it?" Harm replied in his blandest voice.

Mac cast him a withering look, and then broke down and chuckled, "Dammit, Harm – don't do that!"

"Do what?" he answered, innocently.

"Stop trying to play me!" Mac growled, "Now... are you going to come with me on Monday, or not?"

Harm grinned, "Wait one!" He opened his desk diary and quickly checked for any Monday appointments, "Yeah, Monday morning's good for me," he agreed, still with a grin on his face. "Nearly got you going there, though, hey?"

Mac stood, a reluctant smile breaking on her face as she shook her head, "One of these days, flyboy, one of these days..."

Harm smiled back happy that the two of them were once again back where they could swap banter without fighting, "Yeah, one day..." he agreed.

Mac just shook her head again as she headed for the door, "Later, Harm!"

Harm watched her leave with a half-smile on his face, "Yeah, later, Mac..."

As she left the office Harm rolled his head in a circle, wincing as he heard and felt the bones of his neck give a crack – part of the penalty his abused spine was paying for three emergency ejections from doomed jets and then smothering a yawn, he stretched in his chair and then let himself relax muscle group by muscle group, beginning at his toes.

Barely had he gone through his relaxation exercise when he was disturbed for a second time by a knock on his door jamb. This time his visitor was Loren, who smiled and asked "Were you considering taking a time-out for lunch?"

Harm cocked his head to one side, since Loren had returned to duty they had, perhaps unconsciously, fallen into a pattern. They would quite happily share a table in the cafeteria or the outside eating area if they both happened to be there at the same time, but they hadn't made it a practice to seek out the other's company in order to go to lunch .

"Uh... no... not really. I was just going to grab a sandwich from the machine and eat at my desk..." he noted Loren's fleeting look of disappointment before she managed to restore her smile, and hastily continued, "but if there was something you particularly wanted...?"

"Umm... no, there's not, not really. It's just that I've been cooped up all morning reading up on torts – I've got a marine claiming against the navy for medical malpractice – it's a nasty case, and I'm up against Commander Chung from Great Lakes RLSO, and he's supposed to be very good, with a lot of experience in tort cases... and the whole thing is just so saddening, and I could do with a friendly face to cheer me up..." Loren finished with an almost pleading note in her voice.

Harm didn't hesitate, he nodded decisively and closed the James' file, carefully locking it and his notes in his desk drawer before he stood and grabbed his cover from the peg on the back of his office door.

"Madam, shall we walk?" he asked with a smile.

Loren returned his smile, "Thanks, Harm!" she said gratefully, as they headed for the elevators. They shared the ride down to the first floor in companionable silence, and on arriving at the cafeteria, Harm held the door open for his companion as she stepped in to the large dining area and then stopped short. The pair turned towards each other in some consternation, it seemed that everyone in the building had decided to take lunch at the same time and at the same place and there wasn't a spare seat to be seen anywhere, compelling some of the strangest seating arrangements that either had ever seen. Harm noticed with a sense of wry amusement that even such noted adversaries as PFC Somers and Seaman Hawkins were uncomfortably sharing a table, along with Sergeant Hernandez and Tiner.

Loren bit her bottom lip in vexation, not only was the room too full, but it was also too crowded and too noisy for quiet conversation. Harm noticed her reaction and suggested quietly, "It's a mite too busy here for my comfort, and it's a bit too damp to sit outside today. What say we take a wander down the street to Cathy's Cookie Corner – it's only a couple of minutes, and not many JAG personnel use it?"

Loren looked up at him, and after a moment's thought nodded her head, and said with a lop-sided grin and a chuckle, "Yeah, well, it can't be any more crowded than here!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm pushed open the door to the tiny cafe on the corner of South Maple and Broad Streets and found his guess justified, it was still a little too early for Cathy's to be busy and although there were a scattering of patrons, there were still a few places to sit. However, as Loren was moving towards an empty table, Harm took her gently by the elbow, and nodded to a corner table at which was sitting Harriet Sims. Loren followed the direction of his gaze and groaned seeing their co-worker, military etiquette demanded that as all three parties were in uniform that they would have to join her at her table, or even if they just acknowledged her presence, Harriet would be compelled to ask if they might sit with her.

Harm saw and interpreted the slight look of displeasure that had flitted across Loren's face, and grinned again as he said, not unsympathetically, "Suck it up, Rabb! You managed to spend a whole afternoon working with her in a kitchen full of sharp knives without killing each other. You can manage half-an-hour's conversation in a public place."

Loren grinned mischievously, "Was that for my benefit, Rabb? Or were you talking to yourself?"

"Must have been to myself," he teased her, "I was expecting a sensible reply!"

"Cute!" she accused him.

"I wasn't being cute," Harm defended himself, "I was being funny!" and ignoring Loren's _sotto-voce_, but undoubtedly sulphurous reply, he turned his easy smile on Harriet and said, "Hi, Harriet, mind if we join you?"

Harriet had seen the two other officers enter and had watched uneasily as Harm had registered her presence and guided Loren across the room towards her. Now that he had greeted her and requested her permission to sit, she really had no other option. A wan smile crossed her face as she said, "Good afternoon Commander, Lieutenant. Yes, of course, please sit – as long as you don't intend to order anything cooked..." she finished with a just discernible pleading note in her voice.

Harm turned a puzzled face towards Harriet as he slid Loren's chair under her while she sat, but Loren merely nodded as if Harriet's words had confirmed previously held suspicions, "How long?" she asked.

Harriet managed a weak grin, "About eight or nine weeks, it could have been on one of two different occasions..."

Harm's mental light bulb lit up, and reaching across the table, he gently covered one of Harriet's hands with his own, he gave a genuine smile, "Congratulations, Harriet!" and then as a thought struck him, "How are you feeling..." but then left the sentence hanging as he mentally cursed his loose tongue. Reminding a newly expectant mother of the loss of her last baby was not going to win any awards for outstanding tact.

"It's alright, Harm," Harriet re-assured him, "Bud and I are both a little anxious, of course, but we're keeping our fingers crossed, and refusing to accept that there can be anything than a happy outcome this time around!"

"Good for you!" Loren surprised both Harm and Harriet with her warm endorsement, and then in answer to those looks continued, "I haven't forgotten, Harriet. The advice you gave me, and the way it made me reconsider my options, and I'm so glad you did – that advice changed the whole course of my life!"

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a waitress, who took their orders – both Harm and Loren opted for sandwiches out of deference to Harriet's request – and an impatiently curious Harm was forced to wait for her return to the kitchen before asking Loren, "What advice was that?" Harm asked curiously.

"Advice?" Loren replied blankly, having lost the thread of the conversation.

"Yeah the life-changing advice Harriet gave you?"

Loren just grinned and shook her head, while "That is need to know, sir!" Harriet said, almost straight-faced, as she dropped a surreptitious wink in Loren's direction.

"And you don't have it!" Loren grinned.

"Besides, us girls need our little secrets!" Harriet finished triumphantly.

All three laughed and then as the realisation of exactly what had just happened sunk in, Harriet and Loren looked at each other in amazement, as Harm said, "Well... who'd have thunked it!"

Their amusement was short-lived however, as Harriet spoke, "Um... Commander, Loren... I'd really appreciate it if you could keep this quiet for the time being... After... after the last time, we... Bud and I... don't want to jinx this, so..."

"My lips are sealed... Harriet," Loren said, hesitating slightly over the use of the other woman's first name.

Harriet blinked twice before she replied, "Thank you, Loren."

"And I'll make sure Harm keeps a still tongue in his head too!" Loren affirmed and Harm felt the blood rising to his ears as both blondes turned an appraising and slightly suspicious gaze on him.

Loren grinned at his reaction, "Of course, it would be easier to keep him under surveillance if you were to let Jen in on the secret too?"

"Yes... I'll call her when we get back to the office – and after all it is a little unfair to expect Harm to keep secrets from his wife!"

"Harriet..." Harm started to protest, but was again interrupted, this time by the arrival of their food order and his attempts to return to the original topic of conversation were diverted by the combined efforts of two wickedly grinning blonde Lieutenants into a general discussion of pregnancy, childbirth and child rearing, from which an increasingly uncomfortable Harmon Rabb retreated with as much dignity as he could.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm arrived home, as usual, slightly later than Jen, and after an almost perfunctory welcome kiss, headed upstairs to shower and change. Now, with the sweat and grime of the day gone, and refreshed by the experience, he stepped out of the shower and dried himself before re-dressing in jogging pant and a comfortably worn and faded Raptors' Squadron T-Shirt, slipping his feet into a pair of open-toed sandals before heading back downstairs to Join Jen in the lounge.

He found Jen sat on the couch with two steaming mugs on the occasional table in front of her, and for a moment he stood in the doorway, eying her appreciatively. She had released her hair from its workaday French braid and allowed it to flow in a lustrous fall over her shoulders and spill three-quarters of the way down her back in the way he loved to see, and to run his fingers through! Jen had once again purloined one of his T-shirts – most of her own were now too tight to be comfortable – wearing it loose outside her simple denim skirt to hide the two rubber bands she was using to keep the skirt buttoned.

He grinned at her and was rewarded by one her brilliant smiles as he asked lightly, "So… you're looking very seductive tonight…"

"Oh, no… that's not the plan," Jen protested, but with the impish grin that he loved so well, she continued, "But… if that's the track your mind is on, then we might want to take this discussion further – later on!"

"I see," Harm commented as he crossed the room to sit next to her, his arm automatically looping around her shoulders, as she snuggled in closer, "So this is to turn me up nice, for what, exactly…?"

"Damn! busted!" Jen complained with a mock pout.

"You bet your sweet little six! Which, by the way, is still the sexiest in the Navy," Harm grinned, dropping a kiss on the crown of Jen's head, "Well... as far as the 'what' and 'how' is concerned, you are busted, which leaves the one question outstanding, and that is 'why'?"

"Well… if you were to twist my arm… I might say that I'm expecting Loren and Harriet to drop by for a girlie chat after dinner…"

Harm squinted down at her in amusement, "I take it Harriet called you this afternoon?"

"Uh-huh…"

"And so you're going to sit around all evening, with mugs of chamomile tea and talk about all things baby?"

"Uh-huh," Jen agreed again.

"And my presence is not required?"

Jen sat upright, torn between chagrin at having Harm tumble to her plot so quickly, and pride in his swiftness of understanding. "You are one of the most provoking, most devious, sly, objectionable men I know!" she grumbled as she glared at him before allowing herself to grin, "But you are also one the smartest, kindest, most loving men I have ever known! You're not upset?"

"No… I had a foretaste of the nature of that subject of conversation at lunch, and I shall be only too happy to take refuge in the study and batten down the hatches until you three have talked yourself out!"

Jen felt her face growing warm and once again burying her head in the hollow of Harm's shoulder, she said, "You are so good to me! And I do love you, so very, very much!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

As soon as he had helped Jen clear away the dinner wreckage, Harm took himself off to the study, where, if he didn't exactly batten down the hatches, he did close the door behind him and promptly immersed himself in the James' file, as he familiarised himself with the bare bones of the case, reading and re-reading the marine NCO's first, if brief and mostly non-committal statement to NCIS. The initial scan of the statement took little time, James had merely confirmed his name, rank SSN and duty station, and had answered only one or two questions before the magic word 'lawyer', had tumbled from between his lips. Still, those two questions, or more accurately the answer to one of them maybe offered a lever by which he could crack open the still concealed secrets of the case.

Meanwhile, Loren had announced her presence at the kitchen door, complete with Sasha drowsing in her porta-crib in one hand, and diaper bag slung over her other shoulder.

Jen gladly took both crib and baby from Loren and carried them through to the lounge, "Shall I take her out and lay her down comfortably?" Jen asked.

"God, no!" Loren replied in horrified stage whisper, "I've only just got the little monster to drop off to sleep! If we disturb her now, there's no telling how long it'll take to get her to go off again!" Loren paused for a second or two, "In fact, it would probably be better if we could put her somewhere quiet… if you wouldn't mind? I've brought the baby monitor with me…"

Once again Jen's devil awoke, "Well… we could always leave her in the study with Harm. He's reading up on a case…"

Loren's eyes too lit up with mischief as she formed a mental image of the scene and Harm's reactions should Sasha suddenly wake up and start screaming. One thing that Loren had absolutely no worries about was the health of her daughter's lungs! So despite the appealing nature of that image, Loren steadfastly shook her head, "No… if Sasha wakes up crying, it would be too cruel to Harm… I can still see his face from lunchtime… believe me; he's not ready for that sort of ordeal yet! I was hoping," she added diffidently, "that we could maybe put her in that small bedroom at the head of the stairs? Like we did the night of the dinner party?"

Jen pursed her lips, but almost immediately nodded her agreement, adding as she did so, "Of course, that room must hold so many memories for you!"

"Just what do you mean by that?" Loren demanded, her senses alerted by the carefully non-committal tone of Jen's voice and the all-too-innocent expression on her face.

Jen looked back over her shoulder as she led the way to the stairs, "Oh, nothing… nothing at all…" she said airily, and then had to turn her head quickly to hide the grin that was threatening to turn into the giggles as Loren gave a disbelieving snort.

Once Sasha had been safely bestowed in the spare room just at the head of the stairs and the baby monitor installed, switched on and checked Jen and Loren returned to the living room and seated themselves, indulging in small talk until Loren finally asked, "OK Jen, why the sudden invitation for this evening? For Harriet as well as me. What are you cooking up?"

Jen did her best to look innocent, but from the disgusted look that Loren threw at her it seemed that she'd failed miserably, and so with a gurgle of laughter, she confessed, "Yes, I do have an ulterior motive, but I'd rather not get into that before Harriet arrives, if you don't mind?"

Loren looked at her watch, "OK, it's nearly eight, Harriet shouldn't be much longer. I can manage to wait for another few minutes!"

Barely had Loren spoken when a knock at the front door announced another visitor. Jen smiled, "Accurate to the minute Loren! Almost as good as Colonel Mac! That should be Harriet!"

Harriet Roberts it was, and settling in to an armchair, she said with a chuckle, "Well, I've left Bud at home, just as you asked Jen, with A J to watch him. I left them with the kitchen table covered in old newspapers while they build the absolutely biggest model of an aircraft carrier that I have ever seen!"

"It could be worse, Harriet," Jen pointed out. "Given Bud's fascination with Star Trek, it could have been the_ Enterprise_!"

Harriet did collapse into quiet laughter, "Oh Jen, it is the _Enterprise – _the _USS Enterprise_, though, not the Starship!" She continued more quietly, "It's the model kit that Harm bought for Bud as occupational therapy after he came out of hospital… it's only just recently that he really started to take a real interest in anything outside the house and his damn Star Trek!" Harriet's voice betrayed the bitterness and anxiety she had felt, and was obviously still feeling over certain aspects of Bud's recovery, and Loren and Jen after a quick, but understanding, shared glance let the subject drop. Loren with a slight nod of her head deferred to Jen and let the hostess for the evening take the lead.

"Um… Loren was just asking why I had invited you both this evening… and I must admit that I do have an agenda. But first off, I'm a bit curious… You see, Harriet, it was your 'phone call this afternoon – oh! I am so sorry, I completely forget to say congratulations!"

Harriet smiled and waved off Jen's apologies, "Never mind about that, Jen, go on…"

A red-faced Jen gulped, and continued, "Well, when you told me that you'd had lunch with Loren…"

"And with Harm!" Loren interrupted.

"Yes, yes, of course… but if you'll both forgive me, taking into account your mutual past history…"

Loren and Harriet looked at each other and both turned faintly pink, "Well let's just say that now I've got Sasha, I'm a bit more understanding of Harriet's position and the priorities she considers the greatest…" Loren tried to explain.

"And Loren's changed so much since Sasha arrived…" Harriet finished.

"Not that much!" Loren objected with a grin, "I still owe you a black eye!"

"Oh... you wouldn't hit a pregnant woman, would you?" Harriet asked innocently.

"No, I guess I'll have to let you slide on that, dammit!" Loren grumbled, but her with eyes crinkling in a half-hidden smile.

"So the hatchet is well and truly buried?" Jen asked after anxiously scanning both her guests.

Loren and Harriet nodded in agreement.

"Good!" Jen said emphatically, and then leaning forward, her elbows braced on her knees, she said, "'Cos I've got an idea: A mutual support group! No, don't interrupt for a moment, hear me out. In seven or eight months, we're all going to be in roughly the same boat, with a young baby to look after. You both know how tiring that can be, and with respect Harriet, I reckon Loren, as a single mom, is beginning to find it really tough. So what I propose is that the three of us form an informal child care service, so if one of us is sick, or Harm or Bud or even Loren are away on a TAD, or even a deployment, we've each got someone we can call on for help. Not only will it help us, but it will look good on our family care plans!"

Both Loren and Harriet looked at Jen in amazement. It was such a simple, elegant idea that both wondered why they had never thought of something similar. But no matter how simple and elegant the idea, all three women realised that there were a host of details to be worked through.

Harriet nodded slowly, "It's a good thought, Jen, but there's an awful lot to think of…"

"Yeah, there is," Jen agreed, "But, hey, let's not go looking for problems, right?" Whatever Jen was about to add was interrupted as Loren's cell phone broke into the conversation with its imperative summons.

"Oh, excuse me; I'll have to take this!" Loren flushed as she recognised the caller ID, "Loren Rabb,"

"_Hi Loren, it's David, how are you and Sasha?"_

"We're good. What are you doing calling at this time, I thought you were on Bravos this week?"

"_Umm… I am… but my bird developed a slight problem… no, there's nothing to worry about. Both I and my RIO are fine; we just had to cut the flight short, so while the maintenance crew are taking a look, I thought I'd grab the opportunity…"_

"O Kaaayyy – you're up to something, I can tell. What's going on?"

"_Uh… I got fresh orders this morning. I have to re-join the squadron on Monday…"_

"Oh…" for some reason, Loren felt a twinge of disappointment.

"_But the good news is that from twenty three fifty nine hours tonight, I'm stood down. So… I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me tomorrow evening?_"

"Of course! You're more than welcome to stop by and eat with us…"

"_Umm… No, that's not what I meant. I meant would you come out to dinner with me. You know, go to a restaurant, a pretty dress, and maybe a little dancing afterwards?_" Tuna sounded faintly nervous.

Loren's heart skipped a beat, "What, like on a date?"

"_No Loren, not like on a date, but on an actual date!"_ He sensed her hesitation and plunged ahead, "_Look I'm going to be gone on Monday for six months. And I'd kinda like to take a good memory or two with me. And as you're the best thing that's happened to me in a long while…_"

Oh… David, I don't know, there's Sasha and…" then as she realised that she would miss him, a slow smile spread across her face, "Hold on a second…" She turned towards Jen and Harriet who were looking at her expectantly, "Umm… would this mothers' mutual aid thing include offering baby-sitting services?"

Jen nodded, "Yes, of course!"

"And could it start tomorrow?" Loren asked hopefully.

Jen shot a startled look at Harriet, "Well… yes, of course!"

Loren replaced her 'phone at her ear, "Hey, David? Yes, yes, I'd like to go out to dinner with you, pretty dress and all!"

"_That's great, Loren_!" Tuna was unable to hide the pleasure and relief plain to hear in his voice, "_I'll pick you up at twenty hundred hours?_"

"Yes, yes, that's fine! See you tomorrow!" Loren broke the connection and turned back towards a now broadly grinning Jen and a puzzled Harriet. "That was David," Loren said in explanation, "he's asked me to go out to dinner with him…"

Jen was on her feet in an instant, her arms opening to envelop Loren in a hug, "See I told you so! And you were so unkind to him when we first met!"


	47. A Fish Out of Water

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 47  
>A Fish Out of Water<strong>

David Medwick rolled over in his bed at the Andrews AFB VOQ and slapped his hand down on the persistently and loudly buzzing alarm clock, and rubbing the sleep from his eyes he stared blearily at the clock face, which he eventually forced into focus and saw to his horror that it read zero six thirty hours. For a moment he groaned at the prospect of flying an Alpha CAP, but then his memory kicked into gear and he recalled that he was stood down from flight duty for the weekend. That being the case, he fought to remember why he had set the alarm for so early.

Memory flooded back, and with a muttered "Crap!" he rolled out of bed and made a bee line for the shower, planning to grab a quick breakfast at the mess hall and then make another attempt at getting his reluctant truck to start.

He was just wiping up the last of the egg yolk with the remains of a biscuit when a familiar voice interrupted him.

"Hi, I couldn't get an answer from your room, so I figured that this early in the morning you'd either be over here, or in the parking lot playing with your truck!"

"'Morning, Skates. Take a seat." Dave looked at her suspiciously, "Why are you looking for me so early in the morning?"

Skates grinned as she hooked a chair away from the table and sat down, "Pure curiosity," she confessed, "You tickled my inquisitive buds yesterday with your comment about Loren Rabb. I haven't spoken to anyone from Annandale Road since Hammer last flew. So… not only am I curious about Loren's change of name, but also how come you seem to know so much!"

David remained silent as he considered just how much to tell Skates. Sure, Skates was a friend, a fellow Raptor, from the same squadron, but this involved Loren. Loren Rabb was somebody to whom David Tuna Medwick had felt an instant attraction, although where they might be headed and how his feelings might develop was still uncertain, except for one thing: Sasha had won his heart from the second he had seen her that stormy night in that country church.

Skates sat back in her chair and waited for Tuna to speak. His silence was discouraging, but Skates had known him long enough to be able to predict most of his reactions, and after a minute or so, during which time she had difficulty in hiding a grin, Tuna sighed and said, "I don't know how much to tell you, Skates. It's not my story to tell… but, do you recall the weekend I was supposed to report here – the weekend when half the aircrew were out with that flu bug?"

"Yeah, I remember, go on."

Tuna leaned forward, his elbows on the table and lowered his voice, "Well, I got the call from COMNAVAIRLANT while I was at my folks place on leave. Leave was cancelled and I was to report here ASAP. So, I jumped in my truck and headed south, right into one the fiercest storms I've seen on land. It was so bad that the Penn State Troopers closed the roads, and I was able to take shelter in a church, along with a lot of other folk. Inside the church I recognised Jennifer Rabb, from her wedding, and she had another woman and a baby with her, that was Loren and Sasha. Loren kinda took my eye, but Sasha – Alexandra – knocked me out. So, anyway, I helped them out as much as I could, getting coffee, blankets, keeping a friendly eye on them and stuff. And then after that weekend Jennifer invited for me dinner one night, and Loren and Sasha were there. Loren and I got to talking, and we decided that we could be friends, and I've gotten into the habit of calling on her a couple of times a week when I wasn't flying Bravos."

"Go on," Skates encouraged him.

"Well when I got my new orders yesterday, I called her and I asked her out to dinner…"

"What, like a date?" Skates was slightly surprised, she didn't know Loren well, but she's had some exposure to the blonde's acerbic tongue and uncertain temper.

"No, not 'like a date'," Tuna ground out, "But on an actual date, dinner, dancing, suit and tie for me and pretty dress for Loren. Jen has agreed to baby sit Sasha, so we'll be able to make a real evening of it, and it will give Loren a break for the first time since she came back to the DC area."

Skates' smile was genuine, "Well good for you, Tuna! But just the one date, or…?" she left her question unanswered.

Tuna grinned uneasily and shrugged his shoulders, "Hell, I don't know… it's one date. I don't know if we'll try and take it any further and then I'm re-joining the squadron, shipping out on the Monday morning COD, for a six month operational deployment. The war's hotting up, and I don't think it's fair to ask Loren to make any sort of commitment…"

Skates nodded her understanding, it was the same dilemma that all aircrew faced, and to some extent all deployed sailors, and there was little if anything she could say to ease Tuna's decision making.

"Yeah, I get that, but what about this name change thing; that really floored me!"

"That's the part of the story that's not really mine to tell. As far as I know Harm's Mom told Loren that she considered her to be a daughter – you did know that Harm's brother is Sasha's father, right?"

Skates was dumbfounded, "I didn't even know he had a brother!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah he does, a Russian Army Sergeant…"

"But how…?" A now helplessly confused Skates asked.

"I don't know," Tuna confessed, "It all got a bit too complicated for me to follow. But to get back to Loren, apart from Harm's Mom saying what she did, Loren met Harm's Grandmother, and it was the Grandmother that asked Loren to change her name. Sasha's name on her birth certificate is Rabb, and the whole family have kinda rallied round her… and Loren."

Skates nodded thoughtfully, "Of course they did!" she said, lapsing into silence while she absent-mindedly helped herself to a cup of Tuna's coffee.

Tuna waited for her to speak again, but as she showed no signs of doing so, he started to gather his used breakfast dishes onto his tray saying, "Well, I gotta go. I gotta see if I can persuade that useless piece of junk to start!"

Skates roused from her reverie, "David Medwick! You are not expecting Loren to get all fixed up in a 'pretty dress' and then jump into that filthy truck are you?"

Tuna sat stock-still and just looked at Skates, "Hell, you're right! I never thought of that! I'll get a rental for tonight, thanks for the heads-up Skates!" He fell silent for a moment and then continued, "But I still need to get the truck fixed. I can't leave it here on base as a non-runner for six months!"

Skates grinned, "Well, good luck with that, but if you haven't got it running by midday, call me. I know a couple of good auto repair shops round here," she grinned, "With that old Volvo, I sure as hell needed to!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen watched appreciatively as the muscles moved rhythmically beneath the skin of Harm's back as he plied the chamois leather, bringing the last of the first floor windows to a brilliant, smear-free shine. It had taken a little guile and no small degree of accidental-on-purpose clumsiness to ensure that the t-shirt clad Harm and the bucket of soapy water had attempted to occupy the same few cubic feet of space at the same time, but Jen was well satisfied with her endeavours, Harm had laughed off the misfortune, and just as Jen had calculated – well, hoped – he would, he had stripped off the sodden garment and carried on working bare-chested.

The result, Jen thought dreamily, was well worth the effort, she could sit here all day with a mug of tea in her hand and watch her beautiful husband flex his muscles. And it was part of his beauty that he seemed totally unconscious of the effect his appearance had on her.

Jen stretched and wiggled her toes. It was all Harm's fault anyway, he had woken her this morning in the most delicious way imaginable and as a result they had spent practically the whole morning in bed, making love, resting and then making love again. Their sloth had the result that neither had the inclination to head for the stores for a re-supply run, and besides, as Jen had pointed out, they no longer had the time to do so, if she was going to be on hand to help Loren get ready for her big night and to get a thorough briefing on the care and attention that Loren would demand she pay to Sasha. As a result, Jen had come up with a short list of 'Honey-Do's' to keep Harm out of mischief for what was left of the morning, and cleaning the windows was the last item on the list.

Harm was sublimely unconscious of Jen's more lascivious thoughts and feelings; mentally he was far away, back at JAG HQ, preparing a list of the questions he intended to ask Master Gunnery Sergeant James, but the one question he wouldn't ask was 'what made a man throw away his whole career, and everything he had achieved during thirty years' service which had earned him not only decorations but the respect and admiration of his peers?'… As he'd said to Mac, James could face the death penalty, although that was unlikely, but he did face the certainty of a very long sentence, probably at hard labour, in Leavenworth.

Pre-occupied though he might be, Harm was sufficiently aware of his surroundings to know when he had completed a task, so draping the damp chamois over the rim of the bucket, he stood back and checked his handiwork. Satisfied with what he saw, he gathered up his equipment, and emptying the contents of the bucket into a drain, he stowed the bucket, sponge, scraper and chamois in their appointed places in the garage, before entering the house via the connecting door between garage and kitchen.

On entering the kitchen he found Jen, whom he had left wearing his jogging bottoms and sweatshirt now attired in a pair of stretch maternity pants and a smock which was gathered under her breasts and fell to just below her hips, with her hair carefully brushed so that it fell in a shimmering wave down her back, and with carefully applied make-up. Harm blinked, "What…?"

"Upstairs with you," Jen said ion a voice that brooked no argument, "Get showered and changed, I've laid out pants and a shirt on the bed. But make it quick, Harm, we haven't got all that much time to spare!"

"But what are we…?"

"BX, remember? I need maternity whites for Monday!"

Harm stifled a groan. He had forgotten all about Jen's fast-becoming-urgent need to replenish her wardrobe and his agreeing to accompany her – not, he recalled, that he appeared to have had much choice in the matter. "OK, but what about lunch?" he asked as he crossed towards the stairs.

"I've made a couple of sandwiches, so we can eat and run – once you've showered and changed!" Jen finished pointedly.

"OK, OK, I'm gone!"

Twenty minutes later Jen nodded approvingly as Harm returned to the kitchen, his hair still slightly damp from the shower and dressed in mid-grey slacks and a mid-blue shirt that brought out the same colour in his eyes.

"So… do I still get to eat before you hustle me out the front door?" Harm asked.

"Only if you're quick!" Jen laughed, "Here, sandwich and a glass of milk!"

Harm shook his head indulgently as he inspected the offering, "PBJ and milk?" he asked incredulously.

"Why not? It never did anybody any hurt that I ever heard of!" Jen retorted.

Harm shook his head again but obediently took a bite of his sandwich and washed it down with a drink of milk. "Y'know, I'd forgotten just how good a combination this is!" he said with a re-kindling of ancient enthusiasm.

"You see? Mommy knows best!" Jen gurgled.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

It was a bemused Harm who placed the two large parcels in the trunk-space of the Lexus. His previous – and thankfully very few – experiences of clothes shopping with a woman had for the most part turned into nightmares which involved him sitting for long hours in an uncomfortable chair near the women's changing rooms while his companion tried on a host of items of apparel and modelling them for his approval, all the while asking dangerously loaded questions as to his opinion of her appearance in said items. And for all his tact there had been questions to which the most prudent option would have been to claim, "I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that anything I say might incriminate myself," a claim that was impermissible under those circumstances, and where the truth was likely to bring forth a shit-storm of Olympian proportions. In short, Harm's opinion of clothes shopping with a female companion was that it was the equivalent of a long deployment in purgatory.

On this occasion, however, Jen had surprised him. Ignoring all other distractions she had made her way, Harm trailing a step or two behind her, directly to the maternity uniforms display, and after a short conversation with the sales clerk, she had tried on a maternity blouse over her t-shirt, and a further brief consultation with the clerk produced a skirt which was checked for fit. Jen nodded in satisfaction and turning to the clerk said, "Yes, that's fine. I'll take five of each, in those sizes please."

"Five?" Harm interjected in surprise.

"Yes, five." Jen replied, "I have five sets of normal summer whites, and what's more so do you. You know perfectly well that it's impossible to wear whites for more than one day at a time!"

"Well, yes, but five sets… couldn't you wear a set and then wash it?"

Jen looked at him in disbelief, "Harm, have you noticed that I'm actually pregnant?" she demanded.

"Um… yes, of course, but you've always said you're just…"

"Don't you dare say I'm not ill, just pregnant!" Jen could almost see Harm's brain seizing the opportunity to throw her own words back at her. "Look, I may be perfectly happy now, and able to keep up with my normal routine – well most of it, anyway, but there's every chance that later, when I can't see my feet or bend down enough to trim my toe-nails or shave my legs, that my back will ache so much that I won't be able to stand at an ironing board, or bend over enough to load the washing machine. In fact, there's every chance that I'll be too tired to do anything but eat and sleep once I get home from work!" Jen drew a deep, calming breath, "So, I need a clean set for every day. And if that means dropping off yesterday's set at the cleaners on my way to work and picking up a clean set on my way home, then so be it!" Having convinced Harm of the error of his ways, Jen smiled sweetly up at him, "And now that we've settled that, you need to pay the lady!"

Unable to restrain his amusement at Jen's rapid volte-face, Harm grinned, gave a slight shake of his head before tugging on an imaginary fore-lock and mumbling "Yes, ma'am!"

So after waiting for the uniforms to be wrapped, and making only one more stop at the insignia counter to buy five sets of Jen's rate and rating badges, she steered the parcel laden Harm out into the parking lot.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Tuna Medwick climbed out of the passenger seat of the tow-truck and watched disconsolately as his beloved old Ford pick-up was lowered on to its own four wheels. Three hours of skinned knuckles and eroding temper had been in vain. Not once during that time had the pick-up shown the faintest sign of coming to life, and it was only the knowledge that his repeated attempts to start the engine were only draining the battery that had induced Tuna to throw in the towel and using one of the numbers given to him by Skates, call for professional help. The mechanic had arrived in his tow-truck and had joined Tuna with his head under the raised hood of the old Ford. A few questions, a further attempt at starting the engine followed by a quick diagnostic revealed the cause of the problem, the fuel pump had failed. "It's a simple enough job," the mechanic told Tuna, "but it's easier done back at the repair shop."

Tuna had glumly acquiesced, "How long a job?"

The mechanic sucked his teeth, not a good sign, Tuna thought and then replied, "Well, we're kinda busy today, but I could have it ready for you by six this evening…"

Tuna did a quick mental calculation, "Make it five, and I'll throw in a bottle of bourbon?" he suggested hopefully.

"Make it a single malt scotch, and you've gotten yourself a deal!" the mechanic said enthusiastically.

Tuna nodded glumly, with the cost of a bottle of scotch, auto repairs and car rental on top of the cost of a dinner for two, this was proving to be a damned expensive date! Still, he couldn't very well call it off now, and he could only be glad that for the next six months, he'd hardly have to touch his pay!

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm had been puzzling over one of Jen's remarks all the way home, and finally as he parked the Lexus on the gravel in front of the garage, he switched off the ignition, turned to her and asked, "Jen, when you said that you were keeping up most of your normal routine, just what did you mean?"

Jen looked at him in silence for a moment while she did a rapid search of her brain's memory banks and then as she recalled what she had said and the context in which she'd said it, understanding dawned, "Oh, I meant the more physical side of things. I've stopped doing high-impact work-outs, for example, you know, I've stopped doing step-ups, I don't jog any more, I power-walk instead, and I keep an eye on my BP, pulse and respiration, just generally taking care that I don't place too much physical stress on me or the baby… And I need to avoid emotional and psychological stress too, and worrying over clean uniforms and trying to wash, dry and press the same would just add to all three types of stress…"

"Hey, hey… cool your jets, sweetheart," Harm said gently, "you made your point back at the BX; you don't have to try and further justify your decisions. I was just curious about what changes to your routine you had made. I'd noticed that you'd stopped jogging, and that made perfect sense to me, but I hadn't really thought through about other, high impact, exercises. So, I'm so very glad that you did, and proved once again that you're much smarter than me!"

Jen smiled back, "Flattery will get you nowhere at the moment Harmon Rabb, besides I'm not smarter than you…" she broadened her smile into a mischievous grin and paused before finishing, "just a damn' sight more cunning!"

Harm having been tipped off both by Jen's grin and the pause in her delivery, had been suspecting a barbed finish aimed at him, grinned in appreciation while heaving a mental sigh of relief that he had gotten off so lightly.

Still smiling, Harm unloaded the fruits of the trip to the BX and followed Jen through the front door and into the kitchen, where she directed him, "Just put the packages on the table please, Harm, while I make a pot of tea. Oh, and while I'm doing that, would you rig the iron and ironing board too, please?"

"I thought you said you couldn't iron?" Harm teased her.

"Oh, I can't… but I do have a loving husband who is a total genius when comes to pressing uniforms!"

Harm eyed her narrowly, "That's only because I've had more practice than you! So your ironing could come up to my standards if you would just practice a little more."

"True," Jen admitted with a gurgle of laughter, "But I'm so pregnant that I really can't stay on my feet another minute… besides," Jen had cast a quick glance out of the kitchen window where a hint of movement see in the corner of her made her turn her head, "Loren's on her way across the yard with Sasha!"

Harm gave Jen a level look, "Are you trying to handle me, Jennifer Rabb?"

Jen batted her eyelashes at him and said, "Of course I am. I do it all the time… and you love it!" she finished with a distinctly roguish grin and a barely veiled allusion.

Loren's knock on the door prevented Harm from replying as he wished, so, reduced to muttering under his breath, he set up the ironing board and plugged the iron into the wall outlet and started to unpack Jen's new uniforms. No sooner had he done so, then Jen snagged one of the smock blouses and the smaller packet of insignia and together with Loren and their cups of tea adjourned to the lounge.

Left in comparative peace, Harm made short work of the smocks, and had them draped neatly over the backs of the kitchen chairs and was just about to start work on Jen's skirts when she re-appeared with the blouse she had taken into the lounge and which now had her rate and rating insignia sewn on to the left sleeve. "Just this last smock, please Harm," she said with a smile, "Loren and I haven't been totally idle, and you know how useless I am at sewing!"

Harm put the iron down, "You do realise, that if you'd told me that you'd be sewing instead of just gossiping, it wouldn't have wound me up quite so much?"

Jen's delighted gurgle of laughter followed, his words and she said, "Oh, I do know sweetheart, but where would be the fun in that!"

Harm sent a mock glare in her direction as he laid the smock on the board, "Just remember, _sweetheart_, payback's a bitch!"

"So you say, so you say," Jennifer agreed placidly, "but…" and she looped her arms around Harm's neck, lacing her fingers together and pulled his head down so that she could kiss him lightly, "I can think of _much _better ways of passing the time than plotting revenge…"

Harm let his hands rest lightly on her hips, "You do have a point there, Mrs Rabb," he said through his smile.

"M'mm… I know, and just to keep the peace, Loren and I will finish the rest of the sewing while you're ironing the skirts… and the first one to finish gets a fresh mug of tea from the other. And then, sweetheart, I'm going to disappear with Loren to help her get ready for her date and to get briefed on looking after Sasha!" Jen held up a finger to stop Harm interrupting, "Yes, I know, I know, I already know how to look after Sasha, but look at it from Loren's perspective: This is the first time she'll have been away from her baby all night."

"All night?" Harm asked in a surprised voice.

"Of course – this is Loren's first date in a long time, and you can't expect her to hurry home. She's not going to turn into a pumpkin at midnight!"

Harm sighed and then in a resigned voice said, "You two really did work out a plan didn't you?"

"Oh, it wasn't just us," Jen admitted with a grin, "Harriet helped too!"

"Of course she did!" Harm conceded ruefully as the suspicion gained ground in his mind that Jen, Loren and Harriet were a formidable alliance, and for the sake of common humanity he would do well to inform the other male members of their circle of friends of the formation of this unholy trinity.

"So, husband mine, I'll leave you in pieces to finish the ironing. And remember last one to finish gets to brew the tea!" With a last smile that Harm could only categorise as 'saucy', Jen blew him a kiss and headed back to the lounge, her arms loaded with smocks, to re-join Loren and her needle.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm couldn't help the sense of mild triumph as he sat back to enjoy his mug of tea while a disgruntled Loren and Jen gathered up the fruits and tools of their needlework session, Carefully draping the last of her smock blouses on a hanger, Jen made an effort and mustered a half-smile as she turned towards Harm and said, "I'm off to the ranch house now, to give Loren hand with her hair, make up and wardrobe…"

Harm looked at his watch and then gave Jen a surprised glance; sure she'd mentioned giving Loren a hand to get ready and to make certain she knew how to look after Sasha according to Loren's rules. "Aren't you a little on the early side?" he asked.

Both women gave him a pitying look, "You are definitely going to have to take Jennifer for a night out!" Loren said decidedly, "You've obviously forgotten how much effort a girl has to put in to make sure she looks perfect for the evening!"

Harm blinked, "No… I hadn't forgotten," he said slowly, "it's just that with you two, I don't think it would take any effort for you to look perfect!"

Loren's mouth dropped open in an 'O' of surprise and then swallowing hard, she turned to Jen and in a half-accusatory tone of voice she demanded, "Have you been coaching him?"

Jen, just as surprised as Loren, shook her head. "No. As much as it pains me to admit it, that was all his own words and thoughts!"

Loren took another disbelieving look at a smugly grinning Harm and asked, "Are you going to be OK on your own with Sasha for an hour or so, Harm?"

"Sure, we'll be fine, won't we, darling?" Harm said to Sasha, drowsing in her porta-crib, "and if something happens that I can't handle, well… I know of two very capable young women well within hailing distance!"

A still slightly dubious Loren cast another measuring look at Harm and then grasping Jen gently by the elbow guided her towards the kitchen and the back door, only to be stopped by Harm's question, "Loren… for tonight… had you given any thought to wearing that pale blue dress you wore to Mic and Mac's engagement party? I know it was a couple of years ago, but you looked absolutely stunning in it!"

Once again Loren stared at Harm in amazement, "You… you… re… remember that dress?" she asked in a shaky voice.

"Of course I do!" Harm insisted, "You outshone every other woman there! Loren, even when I didn't know you very well, and didn't even like you very much, I had to admit that your dress sense and your sense of style was way beyond any of the other women at JAG!"

Jen nearly burst out laughing at the expression on Loren's face, which was a compound of disbelief, pleasure and embarrassment at being singled out for praise, instead she bit her lip in order to keep a straight face and in her turn she started to shepherd Loren across the kitchen.

"Di… did… did you hea… hear what he just said?" Loren stammered.

"M'mm, there's hope for him yet," a smiling Jen replied.

Harm relaxed back in his chair and took the last mouthful of his tea, "Well, that's shown 'em Sasha, I'm not too old and they're not too clever that I can't throw 'em into a flat spin from time to time."

Sasha opened her glorious deep blue eyes, looked gravely at Harm and then blew one huge bubble which burst all over her mouth and chin. She blinked once and then let her eyes close, the long pale eyelashes lying fan-like on her cheeks as she drifted off back into her drowse.

Harm grinned, "Can't fool you though, huh?" he said and then chuckled softly.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen sat on the edge of Loren's bed, waiting for the blonde to emerge from the shower. After a long discussion during which the merits of various hair-styles were debated, the two had come to the conclusion that Loren should wear her hair down, and softly waved so that it fell just below her shoulders. However, by the time Loren had to dive into the shower no final decision on make-up had been reached. The colour palette to be chosen depended on the dress that Loren would choose to wear, She had half-decided on the dress that she had worn to Jen and Harm's wedding breakfast, but as Jen had pointed out, Loren had lost about fifteen pounds since then, and that the dress would almost certainly require altering before she could confidently wear it again, "Besides, Tuna was at the wedding too, and we know he remembered you from then, and he'd be bound to recognise the dress!" Jen finished triumphantly, if mendaciously, "What about that crimson dress that you wore at the Roberts, the silk one with the Mandarin collar?"

"I only wish I could," Loren sighed, "But the plain truth is that I need to lose another ten pounds before it would look right." She patted her tummy, "Well either lose the weight, or start doing more crunches to firm up my abs and hold the fat in!"

Jen nodded, the dress certainly was form fitting and would clearly show every inch of unwanted flesh, "So… how about dress that Harm liked?" she suggested

"Oh no! I couldn't wear that old thing!" Loren exclaimed betraying a girlish coyness that Jen hadn't seen her friend show before.

"Why not?" she demanded, as she delved into the dark recesses of Loren's clothes closet and found the pale blue dress there. She laid it over the bed spread and regarded it critically, finally giving a nod of approval.

"Loren, it is a beautiful dress, and look at it, it's practically timeless, and…" she held it up against her own body, her eyebrows rising in quickly suppressed surprise at how low the square-cut neckline was, "it's damned sexy! It's the kind of dress that's just right for a romantic evening of dining and dancing, without being too obvious!"

"Jen!" Loren protested blushingly, "It's nothing like that! David and I are just friends!"

Jen looked at her friend, a frankly disbelieving expression on her face as she retorted, "Yeah… riiiight!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm was in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches to dinner in preparation for putting it in the oven once Jen had returned from Loren's. The sender for Sasha's baby monitor was on the couch next to her porta-crib and the receiver was safely clipped into his belt, and it was the sound of a waking up, grizzling Sasha that took him from the kitchen in time to miss the return to the house of Jen and Loren, the latter now made-up, groomed and dressed ready for her date, and Jen carrying Sasha's diaper bag.

The two women walked through to the lounge in time to see Sasha on Harm's shoulder, his hand gently rubbing her back while he talked to her softly. The two women stopped, both simultaneously struck by the same thought. They looked at each other, and as if in a perfectly rehearsed chorus whispered, "He's going to be such a great dad!"

Quiet as they were, their voices were enough to alert Harm to their presence and he turned to face them. This time, however, it was his turn to have his jaw drop in surprise. After much persuasion Loren had finally decided, more to stop Jen from nagging she told herself, on the blue dress, and although slightly concerned that the display of her now slightly larger breasts might lead Tuna into error, she had to admit that from what she had seen in the mirror she looked damned good, and that in turn made her feel damned good. And if any corroboration was needed it was supplied by Harm's thunderstruck expression.

Harm did look remarkably foolish as he fought for and found his voice, "Loren, you are stunning! No, more than that, you are magnificent!"

Loren blushed pink with pleasure and muttered "Oh, it's nothing, just an old rag Jen found at the back of my closet!"

Harm shook his head, "No… it's not just the dress Loren, it's the whole package. I think this is the first time I've seen you looking so… so… carefree. Dave Medwick is one helluva lucky guy!"

"He's no such thing, Harmon Rabb! David and I are just friends!"

Harm nodded, "I never meant anything else. Just that he's a lucky guy to be going out for dinner with such a beautiful woman!"

Harm's words struck a chord of memory in Loren's mind. Her blush receded as she looked him straight in the eye, "That's the second time, to my knowledge that you've said I'm beautiful!" she accused him.

"Well you are!" was Harm's immediate response, but then his brow furrowed, "when was the other time?"

"Apparently you told Grams that Loren was beautiful!" Jen interrupted dryly.

"Oh… yeah, I guess I did!" Harm said, and then a wicked grin crossed his face, so if I say it a third time. That'll be the charm and prove that you really are!"

Loren sniffed haughtily, "No such thing Harmon Rabb! You're just trying to turn me up sweet…" and then as a familiar odour reached her nostrils and Sasha started crying, she groaned, "Oh… no… Harm, quick, give me Sasha! I think she needs a change.."

"In that dress, Loren? I don't think so!" Jen said decisively, "If you must you can come and supervise me, but for you, madam it's strictly hands off!"

Totally ignoring Loren's attempts at coaching her, Jen made surprisingly short work of cleaning and changing Sasha, and Loren taking her baby in her arms, turned to Jen, "Unzip me, please."

Realising that, his presence notwithstanding, Loren was about to feed Sasha, Harm mumbled an excuse and fled to the sanctuary of his den, returning to the lounge some fifteen minutes later once Jen had given him the all-clear, where a satiated and contented Sasha was again drowsing in her porta-crib, while Loren for about the forty eleventh time was explaining to Jen how to heat up the milk she had expressed into bottles for her daughter's overnight nourishment.

Harm sat in one of the easy chairs and opening the flat box he had laid on the coffee table, he took out his Browning 9mm Hi-Power and started to field-strip it in readiness for cleaning.

For a few moments the significance of his actions escaped the notice of the two women, until Jen's mental light bulb began to glow,

"Harmon Rabb!" she exclaimed forcefully, "You cannot be serious! Put that… thing away!"

"I'm only cleaning it," Harm responded with a spurious air of innocence.

"No you're not! You're displaying it in some sort of misguided, stupid, dumbass alpha male thing in order to intimidate David! Put it away! Now!"

A slightly red-faced Harm muttered something about, "Hey, a guy's supposed to protect his sister, after all!"

A highly amused Loren twinkled at him, "Harm, I thought David was a friend of yours, one who shared a cabin with you, and you assured me that he was one of the good guys!"

"He is…" protested Harm, "but…"

"But nothing!" Jen interrupted. "Either you put that thing away right now, or you'll be sleeping in the spare room tonight!"

Harm looked at her shrewdly; there was a glint in her eye, almost daring him to call her bluff, a dare that, on reflection, he decided to decline. Grumbling quietly to himself, he re-assembled the pistol and replaced it in its box before hauling himself to his feet and returning it to the lock box in the den.

Jen watched him go, her expression still one of annoyance, "Men!" she snorted,

"Oh, I don't know," a still amused Loren grinned, "It was kind of cute, in a weird way!"

For a long moment Jen looked at her friend in surprised silence, "Loren," she said at last, "You're almost as weird as he is!"

Whatever Loren might have replied was lost as there came a rapid triple knock at the front door. "Ok, I'll get it!" Harm called out, and the two women heard the door open and a mutter of male voices before Harm ushered Dave Medwick into the lounge, smilingly calling out as he did so, "Loren, your date's arrived!"

Loren rose to her feet to meet him, and if the impact of her appearance had stunned Harm, he at least had seen her in that dress before, the impact on David Medwick went way beyond that. He froze, stock still and almost dropped the bouquet of mixed flowers he was carrying, as his jaw too dropped open and his eyes seemed to grow as round as saucers. For a good thirty seconds he stood speechless, his mouth opening and closing helplessly as he swallowed hard in an effort to say something, anything, but when he did regain the power of speech all he could manage was a strangled, "Wow! Just wow!"


	48. Drying Miss Sasha

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 48  
>Drying Miss Sasha<strong>

"Whose big idea was this anyway?" Jen grumbled as she leaned back against Harm's chest, Sasha, having been discouraged from rooting at Jen's breast, now cradled in the crook of her left arm while her right hand held the bottle upon the rubber teat of which Sasha sucked greedily.

"Uh… which big idea would that be, exactly?" a still half-asleep Harm mumbled, "The idea of looking after Sasha for the night, or the idea of having one of these monsters of our own?"

"Neither, both, either!" Jen snapped.

Half asleep Harm might have been, but he recognised the danger signals, "Doesn't matter anyhow… we both took up on both ideas, so if there's any blame, it belongs to both of us…"

"M'mm… true… Ah, have you finished, Angel? There let me just lift you so you can get rid of some of that…"

Jen lifted Sasha up to her shoulder and started to gently rub her back.

"Jen! Burp clo…Oh…God…" Harm's protest died off and became a groan of disgust as Sasha demonstrated just how proficient she had become in the art of projectile vomiting.

There was a pregnant pause eventually broken by a stifled giggle from Jen, "Oh… Harm, I'm sorry, I'd forgotten about that. Were you directly in the line of fire?"

"I was!" Harm affirmed, "And my only consolation is that you've got a damn' great stream of it down your back, as well as down my front!"

Sasha, relieved of the discomfort of trapped wind had gone peacefully back to sleep, as a still giggling Jen carefully wiped the baby's mouth clean with a wet-wipe and laid her in her porta-crib, and then still fighting the grin looked at her highly disgruntled and slightly smelly husband, "Well, I think we both need a quick shower, but I think you need it more than I do. Go on ahead, I'll dig us out some fresh sleep-wear, and by the time I've done that you should be nice and squeaky clean again!"

Harm glared at Jen and swivelled his legs over the side of the bed and stood, paused for a second to take a disgusted sniff at himself, and stalked haughtily into the bathroom, pursued, he was sure, by another stifled giggle from his irrepressible wife.

The hot shower and a liberal application of shower-gel and elbow grease went a long way to restoring his peace of mind, but mindful of Jen's need to shower he didn't loiter, and stepped out of the shower after only a couple of minutes to find a towel wrapped Jen waiting impatiently for her turn.

"Uh… you could have shared with me," he pointed out as she stepped past him.

Jen paused in the shower doorway, and threw a sleepy but still distinctly naughty grin back over her shoulder at him, "Riiiight, like we'd ever get showered or back to bed in time to get back to sleep!"

"Yeah, you're right… but thankfully it's Sunday tomorrow so we can have a lie-in!"

Jen just looked at him, and shook her head.

Harm was almost asleep just a few minutes later when Jen crawled back into bed alongside him, her head finding its favourite pillow and her legs entangled with his. Harm murmured peacefully as the familiar weight of Jen's head pressed down on his shoulder and her baby bump rested against his ribs.

Jen smiled as she heard the rumble of his murmur through his chest and closed her eyes, drifting dreamily off to sleep.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Very much against her will Jen's eyes ungummed themselves, and for a second she wondered why she had woken up while it was still dark, then the nature of the sound that had broken her sleep penetrated from ears to brain and she groaned. It seemed as if it was only minutes ago that she had put Sasha back in her porta-crib after feeding her, but there was no doubt that the infant felt that all was not right in her world, and was being totally unrestrained in her efforts to communicate her feelings to the rest of the universe.

Jen rolled over onto her back, just as Harm started to wake, and reached across to the nightstand on her side of the bed, fumbling for the light-switch. Squinting in the sudden brightness she saw that it was only about twenty five minutes since she and Harm had crawled back under the covers and swore softly under her breath.

Harm had popped himself up on his two elbows and grunted "Wassamatter?"

"Sasha," Jen said heavily as she rolled out of bed, "I'll check."

Harm grunted an acknowledgement and waited for Jen to come back to bed…

Jen stumbled her way around to the end of the bed to where Sasha's porta-crib stood on its stand next to the wall. Before she even picked up the crying baby Jen's nostrils caught the tell-tale whiff, "Oh God…no…" she moaned, "Not at twenty past four in the God-damned morning…"

But there was no denying the evidence, so Jen with the now quieting infant in her arms carried her in to the bathroom where the diaper bag had been stowed overnight, and set to work.

Ten minutes later a peacefully sleeping Sasha was gently placed back in her crib and Jen casting a malevolent eye on her sleeping husband, crawled back under the covers and with a strong sense of being ill-used lay on her side, her back towards him.

Asleep or not, Harm seemed to possess some sort of sixth sense when it came to Jen and although sleep was fast overtaking her, and despite her annoyance with him for falling asleep before she got back to bed, she smiled as a heavy forearm draped itself over her bump and the warmth of a large body pressed against her back as Harm scooted across the bed and spooned tightly against her.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

It had been about four hours previously that the Crown Victoria, the only vehicle Tuna had been able to rent at short notice, had pulled up outside the house on Annandale Road. Loren cast a quick glance at the house, noting with satisfaction that the lights were off. Turning to David she smiled, "David, thank you. That was a tremendous evening. The restaurant was fantastic, the food was superb, and I may have had one glass of wine too many… The music was just what I wanted to finish off the night, so thank you very much; I really, really enjoyed myself!"

Tuna smiled in return, the flash of his teeth only just visible; "Good!" he said in a satisfied voice, "Then my work here is nearly complete!"

Loren's suspicions were aroused in a flash, "Nearly complete?" she asked flatly all humour vanished from her tone.

Tuna remained unruffled, "Yes, nearly complete; I still need to walk you to your door!"

Loren suddenly felt like crying, 'why did he have to go and spoil it all at the last minute?' she asked herself, but confined her reply to a stiff, "There's no need!"

Tuna's smile flashed out again, "Loren, of course there is a need for me to see you to your door! For a start, Jen would probably kill me if anything happened to you; Harm would probably never forgive me and I certainly would never forgive myself!" His voice lost its joking tone as he continued, "So, I will walk you to your door, but I will not ask to come in for a nightcap, nor will I put any pressure any you in any way, nor will I attempt to jump your bones. Friends don't do those things!"

Tuna's sincerity was so patently obvious that Loren was grateful for the darkness, as she felt the warmth of a blush of embarrassment rise to her cheeks, and in a very small voice, she replied, "Thank you for reminding me of that! I am sorry. And I should be glad if you will walk me all the way home."

"Good, then that's settled!" Tuna answered cheerfully, as he opened his car door and hurried around o the passenger side to help Loren out of her seat.

Side by side they walked up Loren's new drive, skirting her car, and through the wicket gate into the back yard and finally to the ranch house, where by the light of the porch lamp, Loren unlocked her door and then turned to face Tuna, "David, I really did enjoy tonight, thank you! And I'm sorry I was a bit abrupt…"

"Were you? I didn't notice!" Tuna joked and then paused his eyes losing their laughter as a sober expression settled on his face. Loren looked up as he fell silent, and for second it felt like her stomach had just turned a violent somersault, as their gazes locked.

"I… I said I wouldn't pressure you Loren… so… if this sounds as if I am… then… I… I won't be doing a very good job. But… I… I… have a favour to ask: If I write to you… would it be OK… I mean… would you write me back?"

Loren continued to look up at him her eyes now as grave as his, "Oh, David, yes, you've got my e-mail address; if you write me, then of course I'll write you back!"

"No… that's not quite what I meant, Loren. I meant if I write you, properly. You know, like in a real letter, with paper and ink, postage and an envelope, sort of thing…"

Once again Loren felt her stomach somersault, and for some reason she felt an urge to burst into tears, "Oh… Of course… how could I not write back to a real letter?" and managed a smile instead of the tears.

Tuna's smile beamed like a lighthouse on a dark night, "That's all I needed to hear!" he exclaimed as he held out his hand, "Goodnight, Loren."

Loren used his hand as leverage to raise herself on her toes and stretching up, she planted a soft kiss on his cheek. "Goodnight, David, and… take care of yourself out there!"

With another smile, Loren let go of his hand and stepped back through the open door, and shutting it behind her, leaned back against it for support as her knees threatened to give way. She had just kissed David Medwick! What the hell was she thinking! Carried away by the evening like a dumb schoolgirl! Alright, it was only a friendly kiss on the cheek… yeah… but it was still a kiss!

On the other side of the door Tuna smiled, well satisfied with the night's outcome, and it was with a jaunty spring in his step that he made his way back to the rental and still smiling happily he engaged the Crown Victoria's drive and rolled away from the kerbside, pointing the car in the direction of Andrews AFB.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Loren awoke, blinking in the daylight which had seeped into her bedroom filtered by the drapes hung at the window. Stretching and smiling lazily she rolled over in bed at glanced at the display on her digital clock: Oh nine eleven hours! 'Shit! My baby!' As the time registered Loren was gripped by panic; 'Sasha never slept this long, there must be something wrong!' The worried mother was out of bed and half-way to the second bedroom when memory of last night's events and the arrangements that had been made with Jen surfaced.

For the second time in less than twelve Loren's knees threatened to fold beneath her, and she dropped into the chair in front of her dressing table with a weak chuckle of relief, wondering how she could have been so dumb as to forget – even momentarily – that Jen and Harm were babysitting her daughter. 'Still', she thought, 'as long as they've got her… I've got time to take a proper shower, but I am beginning to feel the need to nurse, so not too long a shower, Loren Sing… uh… Rabb!'

So it was only about twenty minutes later that Loren gently knocked on the kitchen door and waited for an answer. Not hearing the expected invitation to enter, she knocked again, a little more loudly, but still received no reply. She shrugged her shoulders and biting her lip, being ninety per cent certain that Jen and Harm would not take offence, she gently tried the door handle and opening the door she stepped through into the kitchen.

"Jen? Harm? Hello?" Loren strained her ears in her efforts to hear a reply but was greeted only by the sound of silence. More curious than alarmed however, she walked quietly, helped by her sneakers on the carpeting, into the lounge where she stopped, taking in the scene before her and desperately stifling a laugh. Harm and Jen were seated on the couch, Harm with one long arm looped around Jen's shoulder and hanging limply by her side, Jen, half turned toward Harm her head buried in the hollow of his shoulder and her one visible hand resting on his thigh. Both were sound asleep and the object of Sasha's seemingly dispassionate blue-eyed gaze as she watched them from the security of her porta-crib.

Loren shook her head gently and smiled before retreating softly to the kitchen where she filled the kettle and set it to boil while she loaded a tray with tea-pot, mugs, sweetener and slices of lemon, and once the kettle had boiled filling the kettle before bearing the tray to the lounge where she placed it on the occasional table. Shaking her head gently as she looked at the still sleeping couple on the couch, Loren unbuckled Sasha from the porta-crib and holding her baby close, she buried her face in the fine golden hair and breathed in deeply, feeling a peaceful contentment as the unique scent of freshly bathed and powdered baby filled her nostrils. Quietly turning a chair to present an at best sideways view from the couch, she sat and unfastened her blouse offering her breast to Sasha; an offer that was eagerly accepted by the infant.

Once Sasha was settled at her breast, Loren glanced sideways and with an impish smile called out a bright "Good morning people!"

Jen stirred and made a muffled and indistinguishable mutter from the haven of Harm's shoulder, while Harm didn't even so much as blink. Loren smiled and decided to let them sleep until she'd finished feeding Sasha, and as she did so she couldn't help but reflect as she had done so many times in the past, how much her life had changed since she'd discovered she was pregnant. The pregnancy, her almost kidnapping by Tricia Burnett, Sasha's birth, the way Harm, Jen and all the rest of that crazy clan had immediately accepted the baby as one of their own, and by extension had adopted her too, and then Grandma Rabb asking her to change her name, and now… now… she was fighting off an attraction she felt towards David Medwick. His earnestness and his lazy grin had appealed to her from the start, that was why she had been so abrupt with him at that roadside church, then there had been the dinner party – she had been so angry at Jen for engineering what was an obvious set up: two married couples and a pair of singletons, oh, please, how much more obvious could Jen have been? But then when David had picked up Sasha from her porta crib, his gentleness had shown through, and from that moment on she had been able to see through, and discard, his fighter jockey cockiness to the man underneath. And so far, she liked what she had seen… Yes, she valued David Medwick as a friend; one who could be trusted, as last night had shown. And it was kinda sweet in an goofball sort of way that he wanted to write to her, 'real letters' like he had said, but still she shouldn't have let herself gotten carried away by the moment and kissed him – even if it was just a friendly kiss on the cheek. No, although she was quite happy to have David Medwick as a friend, the last thing she needed was another man to complicate her life!

She was roused from her thoughts by Sasha rooting harder at her breast and beginning to grizzle as the milk stopped flowing. With a gentle smile at her daughter and admonishing whisper of "Patience, you greedy thing!" she transferred Sasha to her other breast.

Working it out later, Harm could only assume that his ears had become sensitised to the various cries Sasha made, and that few seconds grizzle, normally the precursor to a full blooded screaming, was sufficient to jerk him awake. His immediate alarm was soothed as his eyes took in the sight of Loren contentedly feeding her child, and he let his head fall back on to the squabs as he, from under half-closed eyelids, absorbed the picture she and Sasha made. As he watched and took in the details he smiled.

"Do you know that you are wearing the same outfit that you were wearing in Mom's book-room the first time I saw you with Alexandra?" he asked quietly.

Loren gave a small start of surprise, quiet though his voice had been it was still an unexpected break in the silence, "Oh! No… I hadn't given it a thought! Until you said it just now, I wouldn't have been able to tell anyone what I was wearing that day… although, if I remember, I didn't have much of a wardrobe with me that still fit!"

Harm's face retained its lazy smile and it became even warmer as he replied, "Loren, every detail of that meeting is etched into my memory. You were wearing that same denim skirt and that white blouse, although your feet were bare on that occasion. But the thing that had the most impact on me – after I'd recovered from the surprise at seeing you at Mom's – was the look of absolutely peaceful content that you had on your face, the same look I'm seeing now."

"M'mm," Jen murmured, " 'member it too…"

Loren went slightly pink with a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment at Harm's words, and to gain a few seconds grace before answering, she busied herself by raising Sasha to her shoulder to wind her, and then laid the contented baby across her lap while she buttoned her shirt before turning to face Harm and Jen.

Loren still looked a bit self-conscious as she answered, "Yeah, well… that's all in the past, and yeah, it was kinda good to hear, flattering even, but…" the peace and contentment in Loren's smile turned to pure mischief, "you're letting your tea go cold!"

Jen tested the teapot with the back of her hand, "Ugh… it's stone cold! She craned her neck to look up at Harm, "Sweetheart, let me up please, and I'll go brew a fresh pot!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"So…" Loren leaned back, her mug cradled in her hands and with a wicked gleam in here eye and said, "I hope that Sasha behaved herself last night?"

"She was a perfect angel!" Jen replied hastily with a quelling glance at Harm.

"Oh, yes, hardly a whimper or a murmur from her all night!" Harm confirmed.

"So… you'd be happy to have her all night again for me sometime?" Loren asked demurely.

"Of course we would!" Harm exclaimed.

"Oh… Good!" Loren declared, "You know that David reports tomorrow at Andrews for transport? Well, we had such a good time last night that he's invited me out again tonight, so we can paint the town red before he goes!"

Harm and Jen exchanged appalled glances and Loren seeing their expressions burst into a crow of laughter, "Gotcha!" she said triumphantly, "You shouldn't have tried to kid me! I know what my little monster can be like at night! How many times? Be honest!"

Harm looked embarrassed and then chuckled ruefully, shaking his head, "So I take it that you and Tuna _aren't_ going on another date tonight!"

Loren, still grinning broadly, shook her head, "No… we did have a good time last night, but… one step at a time. I like David, but we're friends, is all… Anyway, that's not the subject up for discussion. Now, how many times?"

Jen sported a wry grin, "Well, we fed her at nine, and put her down at ten. She woke up at one, she was clean and dry, so we fed her again and kept her awake for another half hour before we put her down again, then she woke up again at about half-three, so we gave her a third bottle, and then she woke up again about twenty minutes afterwards needing to be changed…"

"And then she woke up again, the life and soul of the party at just gone six," Harm continued, "so we figured that we might as well get up then too. So we bathed her, cleaned her, changed her, fed her and then we looked out the kitchen window, your drapes were still closed, so we figured we'd just sit down and wait for you to come and claim your daughter, and…"

"And I guess we were more tired than we thought!" Jen interrupted, a worried frown on forehead, "Loren, we only had Sasha for one night! How the hell are we going to cope with our own? And at least there are two of us; I can't imagine how you've managed on your own!"

Loren shook her head, "I haven't done it all on my own Jen; Tricia, Frank, you, Harm… you've all been with me every step of the way… without your support I don't know where I'd have been today! Do you know just how much of a relief it was to have Frank take charge of the house hunting, and make decisions for me back then? I was so tired I could hardly think straight! And before that, when I was in San Diego before Tricia took me over? And you won't be on your own either… and anyway…" she finished with a smile, "It's different when it's your own baby… you'll see!"

Jen settled down, partly reassured by Loren's words, and in an attempt to divert her thoughts from the gloomy pathway in which direction they'd been headed, she managed to return Loren's smile and ask, "So… about last night…?"

Harm grinned and got to his feet, heading for the kitchen to make a start on a family lunch.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

When Harm's alarm clocked shrilled into life the next morning he opened his eyes and groped for the off switch, and rolled over on to his side and planted a kiss on Jen's bare shoulder as she lay facing away from him and grinned as she muttered "Huh?" and tried to bury her head under the pillow.

"It's no good sweetheart. It's Monday morning, time to get dressed in your sparkling new maternity whites and go and earn your daily bread!" Harm told her cheerfully.

Jen rolled over to face him, "There are times Harmon Rabb, when I hate you!" she told him fiercely.

"I know, but you make up for those times by loving me much more!"

Jen by now fully awake, brushed her hair out of her face and sat up in bed, "Yeah, I s'pose I do, but why do you have to be so damned cheerful in the morning!"

Harm's grin grew broader as he swung his feet out of bed and stripped off his t-shirt, "May I remind you, that I'm the one who is renowned for not being a morning person, Miss Sunny Smile?"

"M'mm… you most certainly can!" Jen smiled her brief burst of ill-temper quite swept away as she appreciatively watched Harm pad across the bedroom to the bathroom door clad only his boxers.

Gritting her teeth at the prospect of facing the day when she would far sooner have stayed in bed, Jen followed her husband's example and shoving her feet into her battered Garfield slippers she too headed for the bathroom.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"So… did you sleep well last night?" Loren asked in a far too innocent voice.

"We managed just fine!" Harm replied trying, but not quite succeeding in keeping a snap out of his voice.

"So… no hungry or dirty or wet babies to look after, then?" Loren continued remorselessly.

Harm shot her a dirty look as he pulled up at a stop sign, "Nope, nary a one; it was kind of unsettling at first, but we got used to it real quick!"

"Oh, I was just thinking, that if you were missing having a baby to practice on until your own arrived, you could always look after Sasha, say two or three times a week." Loren continued, still being far too innocent.

"H'mm… how long did you say Tuna was going to be gone?" Harm asked in an interested voice, and apparently changing the subject.

"Nice try at deflection, Commander," Loren almost giggled, "but it ain't working!"

"No?" Harm asked acidly, "Well, you can't blame a guy for trying!"

"Oh, I am sorry Harm especially when you and Jen were so kind in helping me out, it's just that you looked so… lost… yesterday morning that I couldn't resist teasing you!"

"So why didn't you tease us yesterday?" Harm asked in a puzzled voice.

"Do you really have to ask? Well, because Jen was having a crisis of confidence, and it wouldn't have done her any good! Honestly, don't you men ever understand anything?"

Harm shook his head in resignation as he pulled up at the JAG VCP, "Apparently not! 'Morning Corporal!"

"Good morning, sir, ma'am!" the marine corporal checking their IDs gave the interior of the Lexus a quick visual once over before returning their documents and standing back, saluted smartly, giving Harm the signal to go ahead.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The return to work with its associated threat hanging over her head quickly sobered Loren, and as they walked together from the Conference Room at the end of Staff call, Harm cast a worried, covert glance at Loren and caught her biting her bottom lip; she left his side as they entered the bull-pen, giving only a quick nod, almost a jerk, of her head as she veered off towards her own office, closing the door as soon as she'd entered.

Harm had temporarily shelved his work-related concerns during the course of the weekend, but now as his glance swept the entirety of the Ops Section his gaze fell on the closed and darkened office normally inhabited by Sturgis Turner and he frowned in concern. Making his mind up he wheeled away from his own office and headed for the ante-office occupied by the Admiral's Yeoman. "Good morning, Tiner. Any word from Commander Turner, or anyone at Pearl?"

Tiner sprang to his feet, "Good morning, sir! No, nothing heard from Commander Turner, and it's still too early in the morning to hear anything from Pearl!"

"Yes, of course, thanks Tiner… but nothing over the weekend either?"

"Nothing that I've checked so far sir, and certainly nothing marked Priority."

Harm shook his head, "It's not like Sturge to not stay in touch…" he murmured to himself, and then looked again at the Yeoman, "Is the Admiral free. Tiner?"

"No, sir, he has two visitors with him."

Harm nodded, "Well, when he's free ask him if he can spare me a minute or two, and let me know when, please?"

"Yes, sir, will do!"

Harm returned to his office to find Mac waiting for him, "Ready to head for the Navy Yard?" she asked.

Harm groaned, he had forgotten about his agreement with Mac to interview Master Gunnery Sergeant James on the arms theft case, "Can we let it slide for half an hour, please Mac? There's been nothing heard from Sturgis since his arrival at Pearl, and I'm beginning to get concerned."

Mac's frown mirrored Harm's, "Yeah… that's not Turner's usual style…" she said slowly, but if something has happened to him, we would have heard by now, right?"

Harm nodded in agreement, "You would have thoughts so… but it was the weekend, and if Sturgis had decided to take a time out, nobody would have expected to see him until he failed to report for duty this morning, and as Tiner reminded me, it's still too early in Pearl."

Mac nodded, "Yeah… but we do both need to interview James… and I don't see what difference a half an hour can make in Sturgis' case… especially as it still won't be time for turning to in Pearl."

"All true, but I just want to have a word with the Admiral, let him know I'm concerned, but he's got visitors in with him at the moment."

"Yeah, I saw them go in, JAG Commanders, one male one female…"

"Recognise either of them?" Harm said hopefully.

"Nah…" Mac grinned, "They were squids, and all squids look alike to us Marines!"

Harm laugh of appreciation was almost a snort and he staggered back as if wounded, "Ouch! That smarts!"

"Just a bit of payback for Friday!" Mac grinned.

"You have time for tomfoolery, Colonel?" The Admiral's gruff voice sounded from Harm's office doorway.

Harm and Mac sprang to attention, and turned to face the Admiral, who was accompanied by an auburn haired woman in the uniform of a JAG Commander.

"Just a moment or two, sir, while we were waiting to see if you could spare us a couple of minutes of your time, sir!" Mac replied, like Harm ignoring the stranger's presence, but unlike Harm, Mac was consumed with curiosity as to the stranger's identity, while Harm had a pretty good idea of who she was.

Chegwidden looked sceptically at her cover and briefcase, "As you were people, as you were! Looks to me like you were heading on out, Colonel?"

"We are sir; we're heading to the Navy Yard brig to interview Master Gunnery Sergeant James, but Commander Rabb, well, both of us sir, have an urgent matter that we felt we should bring to your attention!"

Chegwidden looked measuringly at his two senior officers; neither of them were above trying to pull the wool over his eyes but on this occasion there would appear to be no motive for that, and anyway there wasn't a trace of guile to be seen in either of them, and he prided himself on knowing his staff, particularly these two, well enough to detect any signs of duplicity.

"Very well," he grunted. "Colonel, Commander, this is Commander Saunders, she's prosecuting the Lindsey case. Commander Saunders, meet Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie and Commander Rabb. Commander Rabb handled the initial stages of the investigation and will be handing over all his case notes and statements to you. MacKenzie, Rabb, my office, five minutes!"

All three attorneys came to attention while Harm and Mac chorused, "Aye, aye, sir!" and waited until the Admiral had left them alone.

Harm was the first to break the ice, "Hi, Harmon Rabb – Harm, it's a pleasure to meet you!"

"Is it, I wonder?" she looked at him severely through a pair of the greenest eyes that Harm had ever seen, and then her face split into a grin, "I do believe you mean that! Barbara Saunders, most people call me Babs!"

"Babs." Harm acknowledged gravely.

"Mac MacKenzie," Mac offered in turn.

"Mac, hi." Babs replied, "Well it looks like the Admiral has only given us a couple of minutes, so if we can get right down to it, while the Yeoman finds me somewhere to park my ass?"

"I take it the Admiral gave you the file I had strung together?" Harm asked, indicating the folder under the visitor's arm, and on receiving her nod of confirmation, he unlocked his desk drawer and drew out a similar but slimmer file. "These are the case notes I made, together with some ideas on strategy I had half-formed. I know that you'll have your own ideas, but there are a couple of points in there that you might find helpful."

"You're right. I will have my own ideas; but as I've only been in town for five minutes, nothing has yet stirred in the primordial murk of my mind. Thank you."

Mac interrupted them, "Forty-eight seconds, Harm, before we're late for the Admiral."

Babs Saunders looked askance at Mac, who hadn't even glanced at her watch or the wall clock, "How do you do that?" she asked Mac.

"It's a Marine thing," Mac answered vaguely as she picked up her cover and briefcase and almost shepherded Harm out of the office.

They left the Admiral's office ten minutes later, having conveyed to him their concerns over Sturgis Turner, and partly reassured by his stated intention of placing a personal call to Pearl at the earliest opportunity to find out just what in hell his errant Commander was playing at.

Truth to tell, Chegwidden on hearing that Turner had been incommunicado since he had left DC on this assignment had become as concerned as his two subordinates. Turner wasn't the man to procrastinate over an investigation for the sake of extending his stay in Pearl for the weekend, although there were one or two officers who would try that if they thought they could get away with it. No, Turner was too conscientious, too… damned hidebound and by-the-book to pull any such stunt.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

It was just past midday when a disgruntled and frustrated Mac and Harm returned to JAG. Master Gunnery Sergeant James had been the very epitome of non-co-operation, the only useful information that he had imparted was that his armoury assistant, Corporal Witherspoon, was innocent of any wrong-doing. She had supervised the loading of the truck with the cases of M4s, but had assumed that James had the proper authorisation to move them, and then had been pleasantly surprised when he stood her down for the afternoon, so that she could have a long weekend with her boyfriend, who had just return from a deployment in Iraq, leaving James in sole charge of the vehicle.

They had just signed in at the CP and were waiting at the elevator's arrival. When it arrived and the doors opened, they were almost barged aside by Commander Saunders, who threw a hasty "Sorry" over her shoulder at them.

"Whoa! Where's the fire?" Harm called out.

"Pearl!" She shouted back. "Apparently Commander Turner's been involved in some sort of accident, and he's in the base hospital!"


	49. Gone Fishing

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 49  
>Gone Fishing<strong>

Harm cast a dismayed and shocked look after the fast-retreating figure of Barbara Saunders and even took a step back in her direction, only to be stopped by Mac's hand on his sleeve, "She looks to be in somewhat of hurry, Harm," she said with masterly understatement as the visiting Commander practically ran out of the building. "I don't think we'll get any answers there. Come, on, I'll make you a coffee and you can grill Tiner!"

Harm was about to protest when the good sense of Mac's words sank in, and with a disgruntled and reluctant, "Yeah, you're probably right." He entered the elevator and punched the button to take them up to the JAG Ops level.

Stepping out into the hall the second the elevator doors opened, Harm passed his cover and briefcase to Mac with a hurried, "Take these, thanks!" and veered off in the direction of the Admiral's offices.

Mac glared after him and muttered, "What am I? Your damned Sherpa, or something?" before shrugging and succumbing to the grin that was spreading all over her face. Shaking her head indulgently she deposited Harm's cover and briefcase along with her cover and purse in her office before heading to the galley to brew the promised cup of coffee for Harm and for herself.

Harm hurried across to Tiner's desk, the Yeoman jumping to his feet as he entered the small ante-office, "Good morning, sir!"

"Tiner, what the hell's the story with Commander Turner?" Harm demanded, completely ignoring the young Petty Officer's greeting.

Tiner threw him a reproachful glance. "I'm not entirely sure, sir. A message came in overnight saying that the Commander has had an accident. Apparently he was trapped in his car when it went off the road in the highlands, and it was some time before it was seen by another driver, and even longer before his car could be recovered, Commander Turner was alive but unconscious. The Commander was taken to a civilian medical facility where he regained consciousness and was then transferred to the Tripler army hospital. And that's all I know sir."

Harm grimaced, "Dammit I knew something was wrong! Thanks, Tiner. Is the Admiral in?"

"Yes, sir, but…" Harm stopped listening to the Yeoman and had turned to the Admiral's door and banged twice on the door jamb, listening keenly for the response.

"Enter!"

Harm crossed the carpet and came to a halt in front of the desk that dominated the room almost to the same extent as the two-star former Seal who sat behind it. "Sir, request permission to…"

"Denied, Commander!"

"B…b… but, sir… I… I haven't…"

"I said, permission denied Commander. I will not allow you to travel to Pearl to find out what happened to Commander Turner."

"But… with respect, sir, how did you know…?"

Chegwidden just gave him a pitying look and gently shook his head.

"But, sir," Harm gathered the scattered threads of his confidence and hastily re-wove it, "You know it make sense for someone to go to Pearl and investigate. I'm sure that Pearl has got excellent investigators, but it may be more than just coincidence that Commander Turner was sent out there to investigate a JAG officer, and almost the minute he sets foot on the island his car ends up of a mountain road and Commander Turner lands in hospital!"

"I agree, Commander. That is why I have turned the investigation over to NCIS at Pearl, and why I have ordered Commander Saunders to Pearl to liaise with NCIS and to maintain a watching brief on the investigation and to take a statement concerning his initial investigation from Commander Turner. So, Commander Saunders will be involving herself in Turner's original inquiry, which is linked to the impending Lindsey case, from which you have been severed, and that is why you're not going; I have already covered the bases!"

"Sir, I…"

"That is all, Commander, dismissed!"

A chagrined Harm had no other option than to comply with the order, but his "Aye, aye, sir!" of acknowledgement was almost hissed out between clenched teeth.

Tiner had enough sense to keep his face expressionless as Harm strode out through Admiral's office door and swept through the ante-office into the bull pen, but once his back was safely turned Tiner drew his breath in through his teeth and shook his head. If Tiner was any judge, and he was, so he told himself, then it would make damn good sense to stand off a cable length or two clear of Commander Rabb until he'd calmed down.

Despite his attempts to remain impassive, Harm failed, badly. Although his face was set in an impassive mask his body language and the manner in which he stalked across the bull pen screamed out his anger and his outrage. Reaching the sanctuary of his office he closed the door behind and shut the blinds, recognised signals within JAG that the occupant of the office did not wish to be disturbed. On this occasion however, Harm was about to have his wishes disregarded as a double tap on the door jamb was followed by the opening of the door and the entrance of Loren with the promised mug of coffee and a wrapped sandwich in hand.

"Mac asked me to bring you your coffee and a sandwich, seeing as you haven't had lunch yet, Harm," she said before he had more than raised his eyebrows. "I take it that your talk with the Admiral didn't go too well?"

"No! It Goddamned well didn't!" he retorted, and then picking up his mug of coffee took too large a gulp of its steaming contents and spent the next few seconds in acute discomfort as he desperately swilled the too hot beverage around his mouth before it was cool enough to swallow.

Harm glared furiously at Loren who was making a not too successful attempt to disguise her amusement at his plight, "Damn it, Loren!" he finally gasped, "It's not Goddamned funny!"

"Oh, it is from where I'm sitting!" Loren replied with a grin, "but that's not so important right now. What is important is that you get over whatever the Admiral said or did to get up your nose, before you terrify half the staff into going UA!"

"Loren, it's not that simple! The old ba… the Admiral has refused to let me fly to Pearl and find out what happened, how Sturgis ended up in hospital… instead he's passed the investigation on to NCIS, and sent that damn Saunders woman to follow up on Sturgis' original investigation into the Pearson case!"

Loren shrugged, "Makes sense Harm. You can't get involved in the Pearson case; you know that! But someone from this end has got to investigate what happened there, and it might as well be the someone who'll be prosecuting the entire mess. So why send two people to investigate two different, but possibly linked cases, and how could he justify the cost when NCIS have agents already on station?"

Harm gave a short bark of cynical laughter, "Damn it Loren, I hate it when you're so… so… logical and so damned right!"

"I know," Loren smirked complacently, getting to her feet and smoothing her skirt. She paused her hand on the door handle and glanced back over her shoulder at Harm, "Now don't let your coffee get cold!" she admonished him and whisked out of the door leaving him temporarily speechless and almost gobbling like a turkey-cock.

Harm took an ill-tempered sip of his still-hot coffee and then shook his head ruefully, "Dammit! It's just like I said the other day – it _is_ like having two wives!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen groaned and putting her hands in the small of her back pushed forward with them, gaining a little temporary relief from the nagging back-ache she'd had since getting out of her car that morning.

Angela looked up from her work station, "Getting to you now is it?"

Jen nodded glumly, "Don't get me wrong, I want this baby, and up until a few weeks ago I was really enjoying being pregnant, and then I had that awful month of morning sickness – oh, and if you see Harm, it was_ just_ morning sickness, right? There's no need for him to know it went on most of the day!"

"Right," Angela agreed with a conspiratorial wink, "there are some things that the men-folk just don't need to know!"

"Got it in one!" Jen agreed, sitting down and opening her desk drawer, "Want one?" she asked holding up a Nutty Buddy wafer bar.

"Nope, you keep 'em!" Angela answered, "You're the one eating for two!"

"Apparently we're not supposed to do that anymore!" Jen announced as she leaned back in her chair and unwrapped the treat, "but do you know what is really frustrating? I've developed a real taste for these things, and normally I can't stand marshmallow!"

Angela laughed, "Not even roasted over a campfire, or in hot chocolate? That's practically un-American!"

"M'mm…" Jen mumbled through a mouthful of sticky chocolate and wafer, and then swallowed before replying, "So, sue me!"

Angela stopped laughing, and then rather diffidently said, "Jen, that reminds me… I hope you don't mind me asking, but has Harm said anything about when he might be coming to talk to me about… about… well… you know…"

Jen stopped chewing and swallowed, "Uh… no, sorry, I don't… I should have said something last week, I'm sorry…It seems that because you're involved, and so is Loren, that they reckon that Harm is too closely involved to be able to take an impartial, detached view, so he's been removed from the case and replaced by another attorney."

Angel's mouth dropped open, "Loren – that's the blonde Lieutenant with the baby, right? I can understand him being removed if she is involved, but me?"

"Yeah, apparently in this sort of case, everything has got to be seen to be clean above board, and because we're friends, that's sufficient enough cause for Harm to have been severed. He wasn't best pleased about it either!"

Angela shrugged, "Does it make a difference? I mean, if he was removed, then someone senior to him must have ordered it…"

Jen nodded as she swallowed the last of her snack bar, "Yeah, that's true, but attorneys have a different way of looking at things. As an officer he did what he was told, so nothing on his military record, but his professional record will show him as having been removed from a case, and no matter what's written down as the reason, there's always someone who'll point fingers and whisper behind the backs of their hands that the real reason was something discreditable!"

Angela looked startled, "Surely you're kidding!"

"Nope, you know how scuttlebutt works, Angie, and attorneys are some of the world's worst gossips," Jen replied grimly.

"Oh, wow… are they really that poisonous?"

"Seems so, and that is why Harm can't even talk to you until the whole thing is squared away."

"Uh-huh, but you can still talk to him, right?"

"Well, yeah, of course… I am his wife!"

"Well… could you maybe, like get him to remind that whoever has taken over the case that I'm still here, still waiting…"

Despite her misgivings about the propriety of such a request, Jen answered, "I'll try… but I can't promise anything!"

Angela smiled weakly, "Thanks, Jen, you're a pal!"

'I hope so,' Jen thought, 'I really hope so.'

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm decided to keep his door and blinds shut while he worked off his annoyance with life in general and the admiral in particular, and to keep free from interruptions while he worked on his presentation to the judge for the James article thirty two hearing which was to be held in the near future. His plans however were spoiled by a further rap on his office door frame.

With an impatient sigh he threw his pen down and grunted, "Come!"

The door opened a crack to reveal the grinning face of Mac, "Hi, sailor, I see Loren wasn't joking when she said something about bears and sore heads. May I come in?"

"What the hell," Harm grunted in disgust, "you've already disturbed me, why not?"

Mac opened the door wide and left it like that as she deposited Harm's cover and briefcase on the corner of his desk before she seated herself in one the visitors' chairs, carefully crossing her legs so that her skirt rode up and revealed a goodly expanse of thigh.

Despite himself, Harm's eyes were drawn to her legs, just as Mac had intended, but she was hardly prepared for the crack of cynical laughter that broke from his lips, nor the "Put it away, Mac! It ain't gonna work!"

"Oh… I don't know… it got a half a smile, and that's better than thundercloud that was on your face when I opened the door." Mac grinned as she readjusted her position to expose less of her legs. "To be honest, at that point I didn't know whether you were going to invite me in, throw me out or just throw something at me!"

"H'mph! Can't do that!" he snorted, "I made a promise I wouldn't push your buttons anymore!"

"Rabb! Do you mean to tell me that all this playing nice recently was because you made a promise?"

"Yep!" he replied, the hint of a grin just beginning to curl the corners of his mouth.

"Ohh!" Mac ground out between her teeth, "And just to whom did you make this promise?"

Harm leaned back in his chair, his eyes half closed in an attempt to prevent Mac from seeing his sudden amusement, "Does it matter?" he asked, "After all I've never made a promise I didn't mean to keep."

"Yes! It damn well does!" Mac exclaimed in a voice overflowing with frustration as she slammed an open palm down on the desk top for emphasis.

"Oh, well, if it's that important to you, then I will tell you…" Harm let the end of sentence hang.

"And?" Mac inquired dangerously.

"If you must know," Harm sighed with a long-suffering air, "I made the promise to… me!"

Mac looked at him incredulously for long seconds, then threw her head back and let go with a gurgle of laughter, "Harmon Rabb! You are impossible!" she accused him through her laughter.

"Nope, not impossible, just a bit difficult at times – so Jen tells me – but I don't really think that's the case!" Harm grinned. It was amazing, despite their ups and downs and their fights and bitter, bitter arguments and mutual disappointment with each other, Mac had still managed to break his sour mood and bring him to the verge of laughter in a few minutes.

He smiled openly at her as she came right back with, "No… she's absolutely right!" and then sobering slightly, continued, "How's she coping with the baby?"

"Well, up until Saturday night everything was fine, and then Loren had a date and we offered to babysit Sasha for the whole night! That kid has a sense of timing almost as accurate as yours. We were up every two hours during the night, and Jen had a bit of a confidence loss on Sunday, but she's gotten over that, I think, so we should be back on track."

"I'm sure she'll be a great mom." Mac assured him and then a shadow flitted across her face as she remembered her own mother.

His answering smile wasn't the hundred mega-watt flyboy grin that Mac had come to think of as being quintessentially Harm, but was something less brash, more introspective and infinitely more tender as he nodded and said, "Yes, she will be."

He then drew a deep, shuddering breath and grinned sideways at Mac, "Well, you've cheered me up, is that what you came for?"

"Yeah, right! As if!" she scoffed but then became more serious, "I'm glad I've managed to pull you out of the doldrums. Honestly Harm, you really seem to have no idea how Harmon Rabb in a bad mood upsets the whole of Ops! But I confess, I did come to see you with an ulterior motive."

"Go on," he said resignedly.

"The James case. Can you give me anything I can take back to him and try to get him to agree to a deal?"

Harm indicated the legal pad on his desk, "I was just working up my opening argument for the article thirty-two hearing, to tell the judge that government is pressing for a court-martial because it intends to demand the maximum penalty in this case, with regard to the charge of treason during time of war."

"Harm that's the death penalty you'll be asking for!" Mac objected.

"Yeah, it is." Harm solemnly agreed. "I gave him a chance this morning, hell, you were there when I told him to give up the names of the others to whom he sold the rest of the weapons, and I'd take the death penalty off the table. I seem to remember him spitting on the floor and telling me to go to hell. So… like I said at the time, no names means the death penalty is what I'll be asking for."

"Harm, I know that what he did could be classified as treason and/or sedition, but it's a hell of a stretch…"

Harm shook his head. "Not really, I've already spoken to the convening officer and he's quite happy to lay those charges against Master Gunnery Sergeant James."

Mac tried again, "Harm, I've never known you to call for the death penalty, and I'm pretty sure you won't really be asking for it, so come on, bend a little. You've got him backed into a corner; give me something I can work with?"

"As soon as he gives up the names, I drop the death penalty. EOM, Mac."

"Is that your final word, Harm?"

"Yep. He gives me the names, and I go for life without parole at hard labour. Otherwise he gets the needle!"

Mac shook her head as she stood and carefully smoothed her skirt, her face troubled, "This isn't like you, Harm."

"If you say so, Mac." Harm stood as she left the office, throwing another troubled look back at him over her shoulder.

Mac resumed his seat and called up the Navy Directory on his VDU, scrolling rapidly down until he reached the section for Pearl Harbour, and glancing at his watch; he made a quick calculation and punched in the number for Tripler Army Medical Centre on Oahu.

"_Tripler Medical Centre_."

"This is Commander Rabb at Navy JAG Corps Headquarters in DC. I'm trying to trace one of our officers who I believe was brought in this morning as the result of an MVA. His name is Turner, Commander Turner, Peter U, USN JAG Corps."

"_One moment, sir_." Harm could hear the faint hiss of static on the line as he waited for a long thirty seconds or so, before the cheerful voice of the operator came back on the line, "_Commander Turner was admitted to the ER earlier this morning for evaluation, and has been transferred to an orthopaedic ward, sir. Would you like me to put you through to the ward?_"

"Yes thank you."

"_Rodger Young Ward, Lieutenant O'Hara, sir_." The voice was female and sounded very young to Harm's ears.

For a moment the name rocked Harm back on his heels, and he couldn't help asking, "Uh… Lieutenant are you by any chance related to Colonel Mathew O'Hara, USMC?"

"_Who is this I am speaking with_?" The voice had lost its friendly, professional calm and had developed a distinctly icy edge.

"Oh… I'm sorry, Lieutenant, I didn't mean to be rude… but your name kinda took me by surprise… I work with his niece, and I was just curious."

"_And does Mister Curiosity have a name?"_ The voice was still frosty.

"Yes, of course, more apologies, Lieutenant. I'm Commander Rabb, Navy JAG Corps HQ in DC, I'm calling to get an update on one of our officers, Commander Turner; he was admitted earlier today?"

"_Sir! Sorry, sir! I meant no disrespect_!"

"It's alright, Lieutenant, at ease! You weren't to know, and I'm afraid I was startled into an inappropriate personal question."

"_Thank you sir! No, as far as I am aware, I am not related to any officers, Marine or otherwise. Commander Turner you said, sir? H'mm… yes. He is on our ward, and he's resting comfortably, considering his injuries."_

"What are his injuries, Lieutenant, is he badly hurt?"

"_I shouldn't really tell, you, sir. There are a couple of NCIS Agents sitting by his bed, waiting for him to wake up, but as you're the only person to have called… you're not a relative are you, sir_?"

"No, no I'm not…" Harm couldn't keep the disappointment out of his voice, "But we've been buddies for nearly twenty years, since we were at the academy together…" he let his voice trail off hopefully.

"_I really shouldn't tell you_," Lieutenant O'Hara said doubtfully, "_But… he has multiple fractures of his left arm, both above and below the elbow, a fracture of his right upper leg and a pretty severe concussion. The concussion was a bit worrying at first, but he's had a CT scan and everything looks good. As soon as the swelling in his arm and leg subsides we'll reduce the fractures, put him in a cast and he should be fit enough to travel in about ten days. Barring complications, of course,"_ she added as a caveat.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Harm acknowledged the young woman's help, "Any idea what time Commander Turner might wake up? I'd really like to speak with him, if only for a couple of minutes."

Harm could almost hear the shrug in Lieutenant O'Hara's voice, "_With head injuries like his, it's anyone's guess sir. We are monitoring him pretty closely to make sure he's in normal sleep and hasn't slipped into a coma, and he does wake up from time to and is responsive when he wakes… but really, rest and sleep are about the best therapy he can get at the moment, so we don't wake him. But I'll tell him you called when he does wake?_"

"OK, thanks, Lieutenant. Can you just make a note of this number for when he does?" Ham read out and had the young woman repeat his office, home and cell 'phone numbers, before, with a final thanks, he hung up the 'phone.

Although the 'phone call had answered some of his questions, there were others to which Harm wanted answers. Sturgis was a more than merely competent driver; he'd been stationed at Pearl for nearly four years, so he ought to have known the roads. The car he was driving was, more than likely, a JAG Motor Pool sedan, so not exactly a high-performance muscle car. Why then had he gone off the road? The more Harm thought about it, the more certain he became that Sturgis' accident wasn't an accident at all. Barbara Saunders wouldn't be arriving at Pearl for hours yet, but one his first calls tomorrow would be to her, to find out if the wreckage was being forensically examined, and if not to urge her to get that done ASAP.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm's fretting seemed to have a strange effect on his perception of time for the rest of the day, on the one hand it made the afternoon drag on as if the hands of the clock were deliberately moving slowly, yet although he'd accomplished a lot seventeen hundred hours seemed to come so quickly that he still hadn't finished all he'd meant to do when Loren stuck her head around the door frame.

"Temper on the mend?" she asked sunnily.

"Yeah… all better now," Harm managed a shame-faced grin. "A bear with a sore head, was it?" he challenged her.

"Something of that ilk," Loren agreed, leaning against the door frame, "But what I really came to ask is, are you ready to leave, or should I wait for a while, or should I get a ride home from someone else?"

"Oh… no… give me five minutes to secure everything and I'll be ready. Today has been a b… a bear, and I'll be glad to get home and relax."

Loren grimaced apologetically, "Uh… it's not quite over yet… I need to stop at the pharmacy on the way home… somebody needs more diapers!"

Harm grinned, "Now… that's a word, I've suddenly become much less fond of!"

"Oh, really? since when?" Loren wanted to know.

"Since last Saturday!" Harm said decisively

"Yeah… I thought you might say that!" Loren grinned.

"I thought you thought I might!" Harm quipped. "Do you have any particular pharmacy in mind?"

"The one on Wilson Boulevard, just before the Sleepy Hollow Road turn-off."

"Yeah, that's not a problem," Harm agreed as he locked his files away, and then picking up his cover and briefcase he turned to Loren, "Madam, will you walk?"

"I most certainly will, and even talk with you, if you want!" Loren agreed merrily.

"And even if I don't want!" Harm growled, and then catching Loren's expression out of the corner of his eye added hastily and with a totally spurious air of innocence, "Of course, I'm always happy to hear what you've got to say…"

Loren peered at him suspiciously As he thumbed the elevator call button, "Yeah, right! And the moon is made of green cheese!"

Harm grinned as the elevator doors opened, and he stood back, "After you, Lieutenant!"

Loren stepped into the elevator with a "Thanks, Harm!"

For a second Harm debated with himself whether or not to tell Loren that he merely reacted instinctively to naval protocol where the junior officer was always first in, last out of the boat or car, and then decided on the balance of things that the momentary triumph wouldn't be worth the hours of domestic hell he'd catch if he actually told her that!

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Loren had protested that there was no need for Harm to accompany her into the store and promised that she wouldn't keep him waiting long, and she was as good as her word, reappearing in just under five minutes with her arms fully occupied with two giant economy sized packs of diapers. Harm leaped out of the car, opened the rear luggage hatch and relived her of her burden.

"That was quick work!" he congratulated her as with both of them safely buckled in to their seats, he edged the Lexus back out into the busy end-of-day traffic stream.

"Well, I knew exactly where in the store they were, and they were the only things I wanted, and then I caught a break at the check-out. I've known exactly the same errand take me up to twenty minutes at this time of day, if there's a line at the check-out!"

Harm nodded in acknowledgement of her explanation. Since getting married he had spent more time in stores – especially grocery stores – than he had beforehand, and he had had his fair share of standing in line at the check-out.

The remainder of the drive home was passed in desultory talk, although Loren passed one or two bitter animadversions on the sheer amount of scuttlebutt that was percolating through JAG and which she had very little hesitation in placing the source as Seaman Elizabeth Hawkins.

"Hawkins? Which one is that?" Harm asked, to make conversation, after all, he was only half-interested at best.

"She's a Personnelman, one of Tiner's friends – as if he wasn't bad enough on his own – brunette, curly hair, dark eyes, looks a bit Hispanic, slightly olive skin tone?"

Harm shook his head, "Nope, no bells ringing here!"

"Oh Harm! Of course you know her! She's the one with the pneumatic bust; with the double-stitched, reinforced buttons on her blouse!"

"Oh… That one!" Harm said with an air of just having been enlightened.

"Yeah, as if you didn't know!" Loren grinned.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen put her knife and fork down neatly on her plate and took a sip of water from her glass as she regarded Harm solemnly along the length of the kitchen table, as she wondered whether or not to air her concerns on Angela's behalf, especially as she was pretty sure that something was bothering Harm too. Feeling her eyes on him, Harm looked up with an inquiring arch to his right eyebrow.

"Yes?" he asked.

Jen hesitated and Harm smiled, "Come on Jen, it's as plain as the nose on your face that something's been bugging you ever since I got home. So, give; what is it?"

Jen nodded, grateful once again for Harm's perception, "Yeah, there is something niggling at me, but I'm not sure I can ask you about it."

"Why not? Jen, you know you can ask me about anything!" Harm said in surprise.

"Yeah, I know, normally, I can… but this is to do with the Lindsey case."

"Well, you can ask, but I can't give you much in the way of answers, sweetheart, not only have I been severed from the case, but I handed all my notes to the new prosecutor this morning. And now she's had to leave town in a hurry!"

Jen nodded, and despite the gravity of the situation, something in Harm's words sparked a mischievous memory, "The posse hot on her trail?"

Harm gave a crack of laughter, but sobered quickly. "No… Well, you know Sturgis went out to Pearl to find out about the pressure being put on Pearson?"

Jen nodded, "Well, Sturgis' car went off the road in a mountain area and he's in the army hospital at Pearl. His injuries aren't that serious apparently, except for a heavy concussion. Anyway, the Admiral sent this new prosecutor, a Commander Saunders, out there to pick up on Sturgis' investigation, and passed the investigation into Sturgis' mishap to the local NCIS office."

Jen was quick to realise the implications, "So… there's no-one available to come and take Angela's deposition… she's getting a bit edgy with the waiting, and if something doesn't happen soon, I've a feeling that she might change her mind about testifying!"

"Dammit, that can't happen! Try not to frighten her, Jen, but drop a hint that refusing to testify could lead up to her being charged with obstruction of a JAGMan investigation!"

"Harm! You wouldn't! She's my friend remember!"

"Yes, I do remember, and no I wouldn't do that. But I don't have enough of a handle on this Saunders woman to tell you which way she'd jump!"

"Saunders?" Jen queried.

"Yeah, Commander Barbara Saunders, the new prosecutor," Harm explained.

"Oh…" Jen reflected as she took in this new information, and then something that had struck a chord when Harm had mentioned it, but that then been temporarily shelved in her anxiety over Angela, came swimming back up to the surface, "Harm… you said 'mishap' when you mentioned Sturgis car going off the road, wasn't it an accident?"

"I don't know, Jen," Harm said spreading his hands, "But Sturge is a damn good driver, on a road he should know well. Let's just say I've got my suspicions!"


	50. Life or Death

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 50  
>Life or Death<strong>

Harm wasted no time, nor did he deviate a fraction of inch from his course. He strode out of the elevator leaving Loren almost floundering in his wake and muttering about "damned obsessions". He handed his cover and briefcase off to Seaman Lucas with a terse, Put these in my office, please!" as he crossed the centre of the bull-pen straight towards the admiral's outer office.

Tiner had seen him coming and was on his feet almost before Ham had passed through the doorway, "Good morning, sir!"

"Any news from Pearl, Tiner?" Harm demanded.

"Sorry, sir, Nothing yet…"

"Dammit, Tiner… after twenty four hours, I expected to hear something! Why has there been no word?"

"Sir… I… I don't know…" the unfortunate Yeoman stammered.

"Tiner, it looks like you don't know a damn thing about anything!" Harm retorted, unknowing and perhaps even uncaring that his voice had risen in volume until he was on the verge of shouting.

Certainly his voice was loud enough to bring all activity in the bull-pen to a stop, and was also loud enough to attract the attention of A J Chegwidden.

Chegwidden was as impatient as Harm for news from the Pacific, and he had already torn Tiner a new six. But that was his prerogative. He was the Admiral, and Tiner was his Yeoman. Yes, his Yeoman, and while he permitted himself to rip Tiner up one side and down the other, he was double-damned if he was going to let a mere Commander poach on his preserves!

His growled, "Step into my office, Commander!" came as a shock to Harm who, with his back to the door to the inner office, hadn't been aware of it opening or the glowering presence of the former SeAL in the doorway.

He snapped to attention, and snapped, "Aye, aye, sir!" executed a drill-field perfect about face and marched into the inner office, the Admiral standing back to allow his junior entrance. Then turning to Tiner, Chegwidden said quietly "Please close the door, Tiner, and then carry on with whatever you were doing!"

Barely pausing long enough to hear Tiner's "aye, aye, sir!" Chegwidden stalked towards Harm who was standing rigidly at attention, halting by his left shoulder at an angle of ninety degrees to the direction in which Harm was facing.

"Did I die, or retire overnight Rabb?" He hissed into his subordinate's ear.

"Nossir!" Harm snapped out in reply.

"So…no-one thought I had died or retired, and made you JAG in my stead, then?" Chegwidden asked still in that dangerously quiet undertone.

"Nossir!"

"So… Who the hell gave you the authority, Mister…?" Chegwidden's voice rose to a quarterdeck roar so that Harm couldn't help but wince at the impact of that bellow at short range against his ear drum, "To abuse the JAG's Yeoman! My Yeoman, d'you hear? My Damn Yeoman!"

"No-one, sir!"

"Then I suggest you cease abusing my Yeoman, Commander," Chegwidden's voice resumed a normal conversational tone, "and carry out the duties which you been assigned. And if you must abuse a petty officer…Find your own damn Yeoman!" The last phrase was again delivered in a full throated bellow, clearly audible to the denizens of the bull-pen, who frowned and exchanged helpless shrugs, wondering what sort of mood the Commander would be in this morning after being on the receiving end of the Admiral's tongue.

Chegwidden, meanwhile, let his temper subside and after glaring at Rabb for a minute or more, he hissed, "Dismissed!"

Rabb's response and his about face would have brought nods of approval from the strictest of the Academy's DI's but on this occasion cut no ice with the irate Two Star.

As on the previous morning Harm attempted to appear unconcerned as he back-tracked across the bull-pen en route to his office, but again his body language and facial expression gave the lie to his bid to mask his emotions.

Harriet Sims drifted across to Loren's office, where the blonde attorney stood in front of the door, having been accosted by Mac. "Good morning, ma'am, Loren," Harriet greeted them both, as she saw their troubled gaze follow Harm across the bull-pen to his office,

"Morning, Harriet," Mac replied absently while Loren nodded her head in acknowledgement of the Office Manager's greeting.

"So… what's the story with the Commander?" Harriet tried again.

"Other than just have received a semi-public ass tearing from the Admiral?" Mac asked with heavy irony.

"Yes, ma'am, precisely that!" Harriet persisted, although the bite to her friend's words caused her to blush slightly.

Loren came to her rescue, "He's worried over what happened to Commander Turner. He isn't saying much…"

"Huh! When did he ever!" Mac interrupted with a bit of a snap in her voice.

Loren sent a speaking glance in the Marine's direction, "He isn't saying much," she repeated with heavy emphasis, almost as if daring Mac to interrupt again, "But from the little he's let slip he seems to think that Commander Turner's accident wasn't an accident, and the lack of news from Pearl is driving him crazy!"

"Or crazier than he is already!" Harriet said and then blushing more vividly she gave vent to a smothered giggle, "Oh! I don't mean that the Commander is… I meant no disresp…"

"It's alright Harriet, we know exactly what you meant! And I think we both agree with you. Don't we Lieutenant?" she added with a meaningful look at Loren.

"You betcha!" Loren agreed with such emphasis that the other two women stared at her in astonishment.

Becoming acutely conscious under their scrutiny, it was Loren's turn to blush, and silently cursing her mother for passing on her colouring, Loren hastened to explain, "It's just that living next door to Har… to the Commander, has… opened my eyes to some of his foibles…"

Mac cocked an eyebrow at Harriet, "Do tell…" she suggested,

Loren blushed again, now conscious that she had let slip more perhaps than she should. "Um… I've said too much already," she replied uneasily.

"Oh, no sister!" Harriet ventured, "You're not getting away with just saying that! We want dirt, young lady!"

Harriet's intervention sparked a memory and Loren relaxed, there was one snippet she could use, and as it involved her, she could be excused… well… almost!

Turning to Harriet she said in a confidential tone, "Well… remember when Jen had us both round to discuss the mom's mutual aid society?" Harriet nodded. "Remember too that I had a phone call? Well it was David Medwick, asking me out on a date."

"Medwick?" Mac queried, "I ought to know that name!"

"He's a pilot," Loren admitted, staring at her shoes, "He flew with the Commander off the Patrick Henry…"

"Of course! He's the pilot Harm pushed to safety," she looked at the blank expressions on the others' faces. "When Harm… the Commander… was awarded his second DFC!"

"Of course!" Harriet exclaimed, "Our very own Tailhook incident!"

"Sort of rehabilitates the word, doesn't it?" Mac mused with a grin.

"Wait a minute!" Loren protested, sensing that if she could draw out this diversion, she might not have to divulge anything regarding Harm's foibles, "Are you two trying to tell me that David was the pilot Ham pushed to safety?"

"Yep!" Mac and Harriet chorused.

"He never told me about that!" Loren said with a strong sense of grievance plain to hear in her voice.

"Well, he wouldn't. The Commander doesn't brag!" Harriet fired up in Harm's defence.

"Oh! I'm not talking about Rabb!" Loren said furiously, "It's that idiot Medwick!"

Mac and Harriet exchanged bemused glance, and then as they both heard the shoe fall, they grinned at each other before Mac turned back to Loren, "So… What did Harm have to do with your date with Mister Medwick?" Mac asked slowly.

"Oh…" Loren looked helplessly from one to the other and saw matching predatory expressions in their faces and knew that she wasn't going to be able to stall for much longer. Her shoulders drooped slightly and she said, "OK… but if you tell anybody… anybody at all… I will kill you!"

"Cross my heart and hope to die!" Harriet said piously.

"Not a word shall cross my lips!" Mac swore, holding up her right pinkie finger.

"H'mph!" Loren snorted suspiciously, "OK… well, David – Medwick – arranged to pick me up on the Saturday night. It'd been so long since I'd been on a date that I was a little nervous, so Jen sort of acted as my hand-maid, picked my dress, helped with my hair and make-up, and then we went back to the big house to wait for David, and when we got there, Harm was sat right in the middle of the lounge with his personal weapon - in pieces, cleaning it, so he said. But Jen said he was using it to intimidate David, and remind him that Harm wouldn't be happy if I… if I was late home… or anything…" she finished lamely.

Mac and Harriet exchanged another look and then both gave a crack of laughter, attracting attention from all around the bull-pen and causing Loren to blush even more vividly.

"It's not funny" she protested, "He's way too over protective!"

"Yes, yes, it is funny!" Mac contradicted her as she mopped her eyes. "Don't you see, Loren, he's adopted you as his sister, and he's doing what any brother would do… it's just that being Harm, he just naturally had to go way over the top!"

The three officers stood for a few moments relishing their shared amusement before Harriet sighed, "I think I'll see what effect a cup of coffee has on the injured beast!" indicating Harm's closed office door.

"It's worked wonder in the past!" Mac agreed, and with a smiling nod of her head "See you later, ladies," she turned and headed in the direction of her own office, uneasily aware that she had spent too much time gossiping instead of working. But even as she made for her desk she thought 'Well, well, well, maybe Rabb was right! Loren Singer certainly has changed – and for the better! Maybe it won't be too difficult to let bygones be bygones and start over… '

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen stared at the screen in front of her, something was niggling at the back of her mind… there was a connection between what she was seeing and something else… something she had seen or heard someplace else; she was sure of it. Reluctantly, she knew she was going to get her wrist slapped, she picked up her phone and after a further second's hesitation she punched in the number.

"_Rabb_!"

"Hullo Mister Rabb, this is Mrs Rabb," Jen said softly, but not so softly as to escape Angela's notice. Angela look across at her friend and mouthed silently, "want me to go?" pantomiming with her fingers a walking action and pointing to herself and the door, just in case Jen shouldn't get the message. Jen shook her head violently and beckoned Angela to come closer, tilting the phone away from her ear so that the other woman could hear.

On the other end of the line Harm felt the tension ooze away as he heard his wife's voice, and his reply was far less abrupt than his answer to the 'phone's summons, "_Hey sweetheart… this is an unexpected pleasure…"_

"Sorry sweetheart, this is business, not pleasure… at least I think it is." Jen confessed.

Harm sat upright in his chair again, his hand automatically reaching for a legal pad and pen.

"_Go on_," he invited her.

"Harm, can you remember the name of the officer at Pearl who screwed up Lieutenant Pearson's initial interview. You know, the one that had her crying to her parents?"

"_Uh…"_ Harm thought quickly, "_some sort of Slavic name… something 'fish'… oh, yeah Vookafish, or something like that, I remember it because it sounded like…_"

"Never mind what it sounded like!" Jen interrupted hastily. Even a few short months of marriage had given her insight into Harm's way of thinking. "Could it have been Vukovic? I spell: Victor, Uniform, Kilo, Oscar, Victor, India, Charlie."

"_It certainly sounds like it, Jen_." Harm paused, "_What have you been up to sweetheart_?" he asked, a faint note of suspicion mixed with concern clearly audible to his wife.

"Oh… nothing much… we're just updating records over here… and Commander Lindsey's records came up…"

"_Jen! You can't get involved in that shit-heap!"_ Harm protested.

"Oh, I'm not, I'm not," Jen denied, "It's just that looking at Lindsey's record, his primary emergency contact is his wife, but his second emergency contact is his sister, A Mrs Eleanor Vukovic."

For a moment Harm was distracted by an irrelevancy, "_Eleanor? And Lindsey's first name is Theodore, right_?"

Jen said, "Yes… but what has that got to do with… Oh God! Harm! His middle name is Franklin!" It was too much for Jen and she burst into a giggle.

"_The poor bastard!"_ Harm commiserated, "_No wonder he has delusions of grandeur_!" But then returning to the matter in hand, "_If Lindsey's sister has got a son…"_

"And that son is a JAG at Pearl…" Jen finished for him.

"_Then we have a giant economy sized two for the price of one can of worms_!" Harm paused again for thought. "_Jen this could be really big. I'll have to take it straight to the Admiral! You'd better let me have those emergency contact details… But then Jennifer Rabb, you get out of this case, and you stay out. Do you hear me!"_

"I hear you… sir! But you're going to pay for that later… when I get you home!"

"Promises, promises," Harm murmured, but his mind was already busy planning how to present this piece of evidence in the best possible light to his CO, even as he scribbled down the information Jen read out to him.

"_Ok then sweetheart, I'll see you at home. Love you_."

"You'd better believe it, buster! Love you too," Jen's voice dropped to a low husky whisper that sent a frisson of anticipation running up Ham's spine, and to which he responded with a groan.

Jen giggled, and put the 'phone back on its cradle and looked up to see Angela gently shaking her head.

"What?" Jen asked.

"That was cruel!" Angela rebuked her.

"Oh, yeah… but it was so much fun!" Jen replied, and both women laughed as Angela headed back towards her own desk.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harriet was just delivering an armful of files to Mac as Harm left his office, once more crossing the bull-pen as he headed towards the Admiral's office suite. Harriet cocked an eye as he passed them and turned to Mac, "Well! That's some attitude adjustment in just a short time!" she remarked.

"Yes… it is," Mac agreed and then narrowed her eyes, "He's up to something, Harriet. You mark my words!"

"Ma'am, when is the Commander not ever up to something?" Harriet chuckled, "After all, it's his schemes and plans that make this place an adventure, not just a career!"

Mac nodded glumly, "I just hope he knows what he's doing – this time!"

"Hope who knows what he's doing, sweetie?" Bud paused on his way to the elevators.

"The Commander," Harriet replied.

Bud looked over his shoulder just in time to see Harm disappear into the Admirals' office. "I shouldn't worry about him too much Harriet. He generally knows what he's doing. You just worry about yourself, OK? See you later?"

"Where are you off to Bud?" Harriet asked noting for the first time his briefcase and cover.

"Nowhere exciting, I'm just heading to the Navy Yard to interview a witness in my DDO case."

"Ok, sweetie, 'bye"

"Yeah… I'll be back for lunch… I hope!"

Harriet watched him go with a fond smile on her face, an expression that Mac, given certain other clues was quick to pick up,

"Just what did Bud mean, Harriet?" she asked.

Harriet crimsoned, "Uh… nothing ma'am… Why? When?"

"Harriet Sims! You are the world's worst liar! So don't give me that 'nothing, ma'am'!" When he said you were to just to worry about yourself…" then Mac's eyes flew open, "Harriet! Are you…" she nodded meaningfully in the direction of the blonde officer's stomach.

Forgetting military protocols, Harriet grabbed Mac by the elbow and hustled her into her office, "Not a word to anyone ma'am!" she said firmly as she closed the door behind them.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Chegwidden was surprised to see Harm back in his office so soon after having had his six chewed. Normal behaviour would have been for the younger officer to shut himself in his office and sulk for a while, but the Commander standing at attention in front of his desk, although looking apprehensive, also seemed to be almost bursting with news which he couldn't wait to deliver.

"At ease, Commander," he growled, "and get on with it, man!"

Harm relaxed from his brace, "Sir, I know you severed me from this case… but…"

"Yes, Commander. I did sever you, and with good reason! So if you have been meddling, then you had better have a good reason for disobeying my orders, a damned good reason!"

"Never wilfully disobeyed you sir, not in this. But, I have just come into possession – purely fortuitously – of information that might link Commander Lindsey to the mishandling of Lieutenant Pearson's interview in Pearl, and possibly, if my suspicions are well-founded, even to Commander Turner's mishap!"

"H'mm… what makes you think that Turner's mishap isn't just an accident, Commander?"

"Sir, Sturgis was stationed at Pearl. He knows those roads, plus he would have been in a navy sedan, not some high-powered sports car, he's not that kind of driver! He wouldn't just have run off the road!"

"All supposition, Commander."

"True sir, but based on my twenty years knowledge of the man."

"Alright… I'll grant you that Turner's accident may not have been an accident… May not, Commander, so don't go getting excited!"

"No, sir!"

"And now, what's this alleged link between the Pearson interview and Commander Lindsey."

"Sir, it was brought to my attention that Commander Lindsey has his sister listed as secondary emergency contact. Her married name is Vukovic, sir. Isn't that the name of the Lieutenant at Pearl that Sturgis went to investigate over the mishandling of Lieutenant Pearson's interview?"

"Dammit, Rabb!" Chegwidden spluttered, "Why didn't we catch this before? And just who brought it to your attention?"

"We didn't see it sir, because we weren't looking for a connection. It was found by accident while Commander Lindsey's SRB was being reviewed."

"I gave no such orders, Commander," Chegwidden's voice had once more dropped to a menacingly quiet level.

"No, sir, you didn't. The information came from outside this office, sir."

"From whom?" Chegwidden snapped.

"Uh… I'd rather not say, sir…"

"Dammit to hell and back Rabb, I could order you to tell me… I could…" and then realisation dawned and to Harm's surprise the former SeAL started to chuckle, "Rabb, Rabb, Rabb it's you I should have had posted out not your wife! That is one very smart young lady!"

"Yes, sir!"

"But she shouldn't be interfering in this case – or any case, for that matter, but this one particularly!"

"No, sir! But she is a notary, and therefore an officer of the court. She had knowledge of the case, so when she found information that might be pertinent, then she was obliged to bring it to the attention of the appropriate authority, sir!"

"But that appropriate authority is not you, Commander!"

"No, sir! But she approached me, as her husband, for advice, and I offered to take on the task of inform the authorities, sir!"

"Rabb, that is the most blatant snow job I've ever heard!"

"Yes sir!"

"But it was well spotted! Tell Mrs Rabb that I said that!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Very well, Rabb, dismissed!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Chegwidden watched the door close behind the Commander and shook his head in resignation. Rabb might be the biggest single cause of his astronomical consumption of Aspirin, but the younger man had a tenacity and a determination to get to the truth that almost outweighed all his other transgressions and faults – almost!

But… Rabb had calmed down, in fact he had calmed down a lot since his marriage. Chegwidden shook his head. He had taken a hell of a chance in turning a blind eye to the burgeoning romance between the then then Petty Officer Coates and Rabb. By rights he should have keel-hauled their asses and had them both posted, one to Adak and the other to Keflavik, or to have the pair of them court-martialled, sent to the brig and kicked out of the navy. He still wasn't quite sure why he hadn't, perhaps it had been thought of Coates' baby being born in the brig – no child deserved that, no matter what its mother might have done. So he had chosen to follow a very loose interpretation of the regulations, and 'counselled' them instead. His gamble, his intuitive feeling that they were good for each other seemed to have paid off. Rabb had certainly… well… matured, and on his visits to the SecNav, A J had found the opportunity to stick his head in Coates – no, Rabb's office – just to make his number with her, and found her, happy, relaxed, confident and… and… yes, glowing! An added bonus had been the restoration of harmony at JAG HQ; without the constant sexual tension fuelled altercations between Rabb and MacKenzie it was certainly a much more peaceful working environment than hitherto! The hell with it anyway! If some snide sonofabitch wanted to make anything of his irregular behaviour in future, he had enough years in to retire and live comfortably off his pension!

A J Chegwidden shook his head; in the meantime he had work to do. "Tiner" he yelled.

His office door opened, "Yes,sir?"

"Get me a printout of Lieutenant Vukovic's page two, - he's stationed at Pearl - and remind me to make a call to Pearl at thirteen hundred!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm returned to his office feeling happier now that he had at last made some sort of contribution to the Lindsey case, and devoutly thankful that the Admiral had chosen to disregard his skirting, at the very least, of disobeying a direct order, and even more thankful that he hadn't decided to probe too deeply into Jen's part of the affair. Still all they had really done between them was to bring a pertinent fact to light. Oh, yeah, and who are you trying to fool? Yourself? He asked silently as he laid his hand on his office door.

"Harm! Hold up a minute, please!"

Harm turned towards the sound of Mac's voice. She was walking towards him with a second Marine Officer at her shoulder.

He raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Harm allow me to introduce Lieutenant Colonel Peter Bryce. Colonel Bryce this is Commander Harmon Rabb." Mac paused as the two men silently acknowledged one another.

Mac licked her lips, an unusual sign of nerves, Harm though as he waited for her obvious continuation, "Colonel Bryce is Master Gunnery Sergeant James' CO, Harm. I was bringing him up to date on the case, and he has some… concerns. Can you spare us a few minutes?"

Harm shrugged, he already had a feeling of the subject to be broached, but… "Sure, come on in."

Harm indicated the visitors' seats and seated himself behind his desk, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers just below his chin. He said nothing, waiting until Mac and Colonel Bryce had taken their seats and were prepared to open the conversation. He did not have long to wait.

"I called Colonel Bryce yesterday evening about Master Gunnery Sergeant James," Mac began, "and we discussed several aspects of his case. He was particularly… perplexed by your hard-line attitude, Harm. And he's come straight from Quantico today to see if we can at least get the death penalty off the table."

"Mac," Harm sighed, "All James has got to do is show some sign of genuine remorse, and give us the names of the money men and I'll be more than happy to go for life instead of death. But he's got to give us something."

"Commander," Colonel Bryce broke in, "Doesn't his past record count for anything? I don't know what's gotten into the Master Gunnery Sergeant, but this is totally out of character. The man's got twenty six years of exemplary service behind him, including Panama, Grenada, Bosnia, both Gulf Wars and most recently Afghanistan."

Harm shook his head, "I'm sorry Colonel, that record is just ashes in the wind now. He crashed and burned as soon as he sold the first consignment of weapons. In fact," Harm continued as he developed his train of thought, "his record may even make things worse. He's been in country and from what you've said, he's probably seen some of his buddies killed or wounded. To me that makes his actions worse, and not act as a mitigating factor. He not only betrayed his country, Colonel, but he betrayed the Corps and his fellow Marines, especially those who came home covered by a flag! Give me something more than previous good conduct. His record may just mean that he never got caught before!"

"Harm, shouldn't a man's life be judged by the sum of his actions, good and bad, and not just by one foul-up?"

Harm looked Mac straight in the eye, "Didn't Corporal Farmer try that same argument, Mac?" he asked gently.

Mac went pale, and Harm gave himself a mental savage kick from raking up an episode that Mac had found extremely painful at the time. He had hoped that her reaction wouldn't be too severe, but he needed to make Mac see that James' action were as potentially as lethal as had been Farmer's.

Mac gulped and rallied, "Harm, James never pulled the trigger and killed and wounded half his platoon," she objected.

"No, he didn't," Harm agreed, "He did worse; he sold weapons to men who would be more than happy to kill and wound half a battalion if they could."

"Commander, Master Gunnery Sergeant James has a wife, to whom he's been married for twenty two years, and three daughters from twenty-one down to fifteen. Even if you don't believe he deserves consideration, do you think they should be deprived of him for the remainder of their lives?" Bryce played his final card.

"Colonel, do you think it was fair that thousands people lost their loved ones in the Twin Towers, or in the Pentagon or aboard United Flight ninety three? Remember James was selling weapons to people that shared the aims of those who hi-jacked those airliners and used them as missiles to launch an unannounced attack on our country."

Bryce's face fell, "Is that your last word, Commander?"

"Unless and until James starts co-operating, then I'm sorry, Colonel, yes, that is my last word."

Bryce stood and to Harm's surprise he offered his hand, "Thank you, Commander for your time, and for listening to me." He nodded at Harm and Mac, adding to the latter, "I'll wait for you, outside, Colonel."

Mac waited until Bryce had left and then she shook her head sadly, "I just don't get why you're being such a hard-ass over this, Harm."

"Because I have to be Mac. You cannot possibly think I'm enjoying this!" Harm protested.

"Not for a single moment, flyboy," Mac said gently, "I just hope that if this goes through, it doesn't destroy you Harm. It was hard enough having to witness Farmer's execution; I don't think I could have carried on being a trial attorney if I had been the prosecutor arguing for the death penalty." She rose to her feet and gave Harm a grave smile, "I'll see you later… I still need to speak with Colonel Bryce."

Harm waited until she had left the floor and then headed for the men's bathroom, where he stripped his jacket and rolled up his sleeves before filling a wash basin with cold water and cupping his hands brought them up to his face, heedless of the water that splashed his shirt.

For a couple of minutes he stood with his arms braced leaning on the wash basin while he gasped for air and fought down waves of nausea.

Partially recovering his composure, he said silently, 'Please James, tell me something so I can take death off the table… Oh God… I hate doing this… I don't want him to die… Please make him tell me something I can use!'

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Mac sat in her office, idly nibbling on the end of a pencil. The Harm that was standing firm on the death penalty for James was not the Harm she thought she knew. No, dammit! He _was_ the same Harm, she had seen it in his eyes, that he was sickened by thought of being a death-seeking prosecutor. There was definitely more behind his unprecedented behaviour than meets the eye, she decided.

Standing, she smoothed her skirt over her thighs and marched determinedly across the bull-pen towards the Admiral's Office.

"Is he free to speak with me, Tiner?"

"He's free, ma'am, I'll check for you… Sir," he spoke into the intercom, "Colonel MacKenzie would like to know if you can spare her a few minutes?"

"OK, Tiner, send her in!"

"You heard, ma'am?"

"Yes, thank you!" Mac turned and rapped on the door frame, waiting for Admiral to bid her to enter.

"What can I do for you Colonel?" Chegwidden asked as she came to a halt in front of his desk.

"It's about Commander Rabb, sir."

Chegwidden stifled a groan; was it only a couple of hours ago that he had been congratulating himself that since his marriage Rabb had stopped pressing MacKenzie's buttons?

"What's he done this time, Colonel?" he asked heavily.

"Oh! Oh, no! Nothing like that sir… It's… well… I'm worried about him."

Chegwidden looked up at her; yes it was true, there was an expression of concern on her face.

"Take a seat, Mac, he said, and tell me what's got you bothered about Rabb?"

Mac seated herself in her accustomed chair and for a moment or two played with the hem of her skirt where it lay across her knees.

Chegwidden smiled to himself; he had seen this performance before when the normally self-assured Marine Colonel wasn't quite so confident as usual.

At last Mac spoke, "Sir this a bit awkward for me, because I'm here as Harm's friend, but I'm also his opposing counsel in the James case. It may seem that I'm just trying an end run around Harm as prosecutor, but it's not that sir, I promise you."

"I know it's not, Mac, go on, spit it out."

"Sir, Harm's pushing for the death penalty in this case, and he's being totally intransigent, he won't listen to me, he wouldn't even listen to James' CO who came to plead his prior good record. In fact, Harm said his record made his crime – his alleged crime," Mac corrected herself, "even worse. And I was just wondering, sir, if you were aware of any reason why Harm should be pushing so hard for the death penalty. Harm's never even seen an execution, but I have. It's not pretty. Sir, I'm worried what a case like this might do to him…" her voice trailed off miserably.

Chegwidden regarded her steadily for a long few moments, "Colonel, I trust that you are not implying that Commander Rabb has let himself be influenced by outside agencies, forces or superior officers, or that I am would use my influence to coerce or persuade him to abandon a course of action that is quite proper given the severity of the alleged offences?"

"Oh, No, sir! No, nothing like that… It's just that I am really worried about him! I would never ask you to use undue command influence!"

"I am relieved to hear it Colonel! Alright, I'll try to talk to Rabb, lawyer to lawyer. Now, if you'll excuse me, even if you have no work to do, I'm too far too busy to spending the whole day in conversation with you! Much as I might enjoy it!" he added with a flash of his rare smile.

"I'll leave you in peace, then, sir!" Mac returned his smile as she stood.

"Very well, Colonel, dismissed!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Chegwidden mused for a few moments on the strange case of the intransigent attorney, but perhaps it wasn't so strange after all, Rabb had always been liable to target fixation and had an obsessive streak him a mile wide. But as Mac had said, Rabb had never seen an execution, and it may be that despite his new-found maturity, he hadn't quite grasped the concept that actions sometimes had consequences.

His train of thought was disturbed however by the buzz of the intercom, and Tiner's voice, "It's just coming up to thirteen hundred, sir. You wanted reminding about making a call to Pearl."

"Yes, I did, thank you, Tiner!"

Chegwidden consulted his note pad and dialled the number he had written down earlier. After what seemed an age he heard the ring tone at the other end of the line, which ended as a female voice said, "_Saunders._"

"Good morning Commander, this A J Chegwidden."

He smiled to himself as he heard a gasp and choking noise at the far end of the line as Commander Saunders' mouthful of coffee went down the wrong hole.

"_Good morning sir_!" at last came a still somewhat breathless reply.

"What news on Commander Turner, Commander?"

"_He's one very lucky man, sir! His car was found wedged against a tree about one hundred and fifty feet below the road. If he wouldn't have hit the tree then it was another two, maybe three hundred feet straight down into the ocean._"

"He's lucky to be alive then, Commander!"

"_He certainly is, sir!"_

"H'mm… have you managed to speak with him yet?"

"_Yes, sir, He'd carried out an initial interview with Lieutenant Vukovic, and is carefully not saying what he thought of the Lieutenant, sir_."

"I see… let's leave that issue to one side for the moment. Did you talk about his mishap?"

"_We did, sir_," and it seemed to Chegwidden that Saunders voice became graver, "_He says he was driving carefully, because although he knows that road he was driving an unfamiliar vehicle, a Crown Victoria from the motor pool at Pearl, but some time before the crash he thought he felt the steering becoming heavier and then the steering became impossible, he put his foot on the brakes, and nothing… he couldn't steer and he couldn't stop, and with a bend in the road just ahead of him… over the edge was the only place he could go_."

"What does that suggest to you, Commander?"

"_It suggests, sir, that once the Commander's car is recovered, then I have NCIS forensics go over it with a fine-tooth comb, while I examine every i and every t in the vehicle maintenance records sir_!"

"You suspect that the car was tampered with, Commander?"

"_Either that sir, or there's some serious dereliction of duty charges to be levied against the motor pool maintenance crew, sir_!"

"Well... let's just hope it's the latter! Thank you, Commander!"

"_Yes, sir_!"


	51. Circles in a Spiral

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 51  
>Circles in a Spiral<strong>

Admiral A J Chegwidden pushed open the doors to the bull-pen and strode, cover and briefcase in hand towards his office, when he became aware that nobody had called the room to attention. Although, unlike some other Flag Officers he didn't insist on that formality every time he appeared in the bull-pen, he did expect it on his first appearance each day.

Looking around to ascertain any reason he should have been ignored, he saw that most of the Ops staff were in a crowd all looking at the same person or thing. Annoyed by this large scale lapse in protocol, Chegwidden was about to clear his throat in accusatory manner when the door behind him opened, there was a second's pause before a clear, and distinctly female voice cracked out like a whip "Admiral on deck!"

The huddle broke up in dismay, breaking into its constituent parts all now frozen in a rigid brace with varying degrees of apprehension and trepidation clear on their faces. Chegwidden noted the person who had caused such interest and nodded, his face easing its grim expression.

"H'mph! Carry on!" and turning to look behind him, he saw Lieutenant Loren Rabb just relaxing her own brace, and behind her, still in the doorway, Commander Harmon Rabb with a frown on his face.

Chegwidden carried on to his own office, stopping for a moment by Tiner's desk, "Tiner, when he has received all the adulation he thinks he's due, have Gunnery Sergeant Galindez report to me!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Tiner shot to his feet in preparation for passing the message to its intended recipient, he was in no doubt that Chegwidden meant that he wanted to speak to the Marine NCO right now!

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Welcome back, Gunny!" Chegwidden said as the Gunnery Sergeant froze into a brace in front of his desk, "Everything go OK?"

"Not perfectly, sir. We got 'em all, but we lost one and had three wounded, but there won't be any more fast boats sneaking heroin in from that source, not for a long while. The Force Recon teams have burned out about a hundred hectares of poppies."

"Well, its good to have you back Gunny, I wish I hadn't had to let you go in the first place, I know a lot of folks here have been worrying about you, but when a four star yells jump, I jump just as high as any Parris Island rookie bootie!"

Galindez permitted himself a brief smile, "No lower than I do, sir!"

"H'mm... I don't suppose I could get a written report on what you've been doing these last weeks?"

"Sorry, sir. I know you've got clearance, but this was a need to know mission, sir, and you don't..."

"Need to know," Chegwidden sighed, "alright, Gunny."

"Sir, I would if I could, I hope you know that..."

"Yeah, I do. Don't worry about it Gunny, I can always beat it out of Webb later!"

"I'll hold your coat while you do, sir!" the marine said enthusiastically.

"Go on, get the hell out of here!" the former SeEAL grinned, "I'm pretty sure your in-tray has a mountain of paperwork for you to climb!"

"Yes, sir! It'll make a nice change from hiking through the Columbian jungle!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Chegwidden replaced the 'phone on its cradle and then sat back in a characteristic pose, his fingers forming a steeple, resting against his bottom lip as he considered the implications of the call he had just finished. He was beginning to have a very nasty feeling about a very nasty case that seemed to becoming nastier with each day. What had started out as just a complaint of sexual harassment now seemed to be evolving into a case of collusion between two or more officers in covering up the said harassment and also appeared to have escalated into what looked like a case of the attempted murder of a JAG investigator. Not good, not good at all.

And that wasn't the only problem that had landed in his lap today, and despite the problems he had, he couldn't prevent an ironic chuckle from escaping. He had severed Rabb from the harassment case, and sicced him onto what should have been a simple case of selling stolen weapons only to have Rabb go all gung-ho on him and start demanding the death penalty. His chuckle was only of short duration. Mac had been right, if this case ended up in the execution chamber at Leavenworth it could devastate Rabb.

Sure, he, like most JAGs, paid lip service to the ultimate sanction, but as far as he knew Rabb's only involvement in a capital case had been at Corporal Caleb Farmer's re-trial which only served to confirm the original trial's findings and sentence, and Mac had served as Farmer's defence counsel at that same re-trial. Both had done their jobs, but neither had appeared to relish the task, and only Mac had attended the actual execution.

Not that Chegwidden was ever likely to forget the Farmer case. He had been a Commander at the time and assigned as defence counsel at the original trial, and Mac had successfully argued that he had provided an inadequate defence, and so won the re-trial.

Chegwidden continued to mull over the possible repercussions of interfering with the case which were to be balanced against Rabb's future mental and emotional state, and sighing came to a reluctant decision, reaching forward, he pressed the call button on his intercom.

"Tiner?"

"_Sir_?"

"Pass the word for Commander Rabb to report to me."

"_Aye, aye, Sir_!"

Chegwidden wasn't kept waiting many minutes for the double rap on his door-jamb, "Enter!" he called and then waited while Harm marched across the carpet to halt in front of his desk, "Commander Rabb reporting as ordered, sir!"

Chegwidden eyed him over the rim of his reading glasses for a few seconds, and then removing them said, "Sit down Rabb. I want a few words with you!"

Harm did as he was bid, "Sir?" he asked once he had settled himself.

"The James case, Rabb," Chegwidden said heavily, "I've heard a whisper that you're intending to demand the death penalty and that you're being particularly intransigent about it."

"Yes, sir," Harm replied in an emotionless voice.

"Why?" Chegwidden asked flatly.

"Because he deserves it sir. He's selling weapons to the very people who use them against our troops in Afghanistan and Iraq."

"Maybe he does deserve it, Rabb ," Chegwidden said, "But do you?" he added shrewdly.

"I don't know what you mean, sir." Harm denied.

"I think you do Rabb, I think you do. I think you know exactly what I mean. Think about Corporal Caleb Farmer for a moment..." he paused and had the bitter satisfaction of seeing Rabb go pale. "For that case, you were merely upholding the original conviction, and you did your duty. But we all have to do duty that at times makes us feel sick, or disgusted with the system for demanding it, and with ourselves for bending to the demands of that system. But that's why they pay us the big bucks!"

He fell silent as Rabb let out a snort of cynical laughter, and then hastily apologised, "Sir! I'm so sorry!"

"Don't be! Even Flag officers like it when someone laughs at their jokes!" Chegwidden leaned forward his elbows on the desk and his hands toying with his reading glasses as he began speaking again, his voice low and earnest, "But to get back to Farmer... I remember how quiet you were for quite some while after the original verdict and sentence were upheld. Just how much trouble did you have sleeping at nights for that while?"

Harm blinked in surprise, "None at all, sir!"

"Don't try to bullshit me son, better exponents of that art have tried it with me and failed, and you ain't that good at it! What's really going on Harm?"

The use of his first name stunned Harm for a few seconds before he answered, "N... nothing, sir... James broke the code as well as several articles of the UCMJ, and..."

"More bullshit? Are you sure you're not being pressured into demanding the death sentence, no question of pressure, of quid pro quo, or undue command influence, because if you are being pressured, I swear I will break the son of a bitch..."

"No... there's nothing like that, sir. This is all me..." Harm let his voice trial off, but Chegwidden had caught the hint of self loathing in his words.

"But you don't like it, do you, son?"

Harm shook his head, "Honestly, no, I don't..."

"So why...?"

"James has information we need. The names of the middlemen here in the US to whom he sold the weapons. He gives up the names, I take the death penalty out of the equation. Simple as that, sir. But he's being pig-headed and won't talk..."

"So, you've painted yourself into a corner... and it's eating you alive isn't?"

Harm nodded unhappily.

"Why haven't you spoken to anyone about this?" Chegwidden inquired quietly.

"Who, sir? I can't talk to Mac about it, she's defence counsel. Sturgis is in Pearl, in hospital, and I won't put this on Jen on top of everything else, and I can't talk to Loren, just in case she lets it slip at home. I can't tell Bud, because with the best will in the world he couldn't keep it from Harriet, and she would definitely let it slip to Jen..."

"You could have come to me, Harm," Chegwidden reminded him gently.

"Yeah, that would have looked great wouldn't it! Oh... sorry sir, but I couldn't come crying to you because I made a bad call, could I?"

"Of course you could, and you should. That's part of my job. I'm not only here to chew you a new one when you need it!" Chegwidden smiled grimly. "But what are you going to do now?"

Harm shrugged, "I don't know at the moment where to go from here, but if James won't give up the names, then I really don't know... unless... unless..."

"Unless what?"

"Unless Mac can come up with some sort of mitigating circumstance – other than his previous good record... but I can't see my way clear to telling her that without tipping my hand..."

"Yes, I see... how about you leave that with me for a day or two... and in the meantime ease off the gas pedal?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" Harm said getting to his feet.

"Good, carry on, dismissed!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Chegwidden waited until the door closed behind the younger officer and then dropped his head into his hands, using the heels of them top press against hi eyes. Then he raised his head,"How the hell am I going to warn Mac without tipping his hand to her?" he asked the empty office aloud, then he snorted with cynical laughter, "I guess I'll just have to think of a way! After all, isn't that why they pay _me_ the big bucks?!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Chegwidden strolled out of his office and across the bull-pen heading for the galley, his coffee mug in his hand. He could have asked Tiner to get him a coffee, but the two-star felt the need of a proper cup of coffee, real deal SeAL coffee, which would strip the stomach lining from even a marine. He smiled in anticipation of his coffee remembering a story told to him by an old-timer when he was just a kid back home to Texas, when the old man had explained to him that there were only two types of drinkable coffee, the first, so strong that you could float a horseshoe on it, and the second even stronger so that the horseshoe would dissolve in it.

His smile disappeared however as he entered the galley to find Lieutenant Rabb waiting for the machine to finish filtering its contents into a half-full carafe, and with a resigned but silent sigh settled down to wait his turn.

Loren, uneasily aware of the looming presence of her CO, tried the effect of a smile and a "Won't be too long, sir."

"I'm well aware of how long it takes that machine to go through its cycle, Lieutenant!" Chegwidden said repressively.

"Yes, sir, of course!" Loren agreed hastily.

"H'mph!" Chegwidden snorted and then something Rabb – Commander Rabb, that is – had said during their recent discussion.

"How're things at home these days, Lieutenant?" he asked.

"Just fine, thank you, sir." a slightly bewildered Loren answered. After all, it hadn't been too long ago that the Admiral had made clear his opinion of her both as an officer and as a human being, so this unaccustomed interest in her... welfare...? well being...? was something in the nature of a curve ball.

"Good, and how is Miss Rabb? All well there?"

"Indeed, sir!" Loren's eyes suddenly glowed with happiness, and a slight flush rose to her cheeks, "She is very well, sir, she's thriving and gaining weight according to schedule, and she's so clever, but growing so fast..." she sighed.

"And already a real heart-breaker I hear?" Chegwidden teased his Lieutenant slightly.

"Sir?" Now Loren was really baffled.

"Yeah, I hear she's managed to enthrall one of those cocky jet-jockeys," Chegwidden said, fighting to keep a straight face.

"Oh! Uh... yes, yes she did, sir!" Loren said but blushing fiercely, and again silently cursing her mother.

"Ah, good. I'm glad that scuttlebutt is maintaining its records for infallibility!" he said genially.

Loren could hardly believe her ears, the Admiral was joking with her and... and... and... yes, dammit! He was even teasing her!

"Everything else alright on the home front?" He asked, "Legalman Rabb coping alright?" He raised his eyes at her obvious surprise, "Well, she was my choice for Yeoman to replace Tiner when he goes, and in some way I suppose I am responsible for throwing her in Rabb's path!"

"Yes, she's fine sir, had a bad patch of morning sickness for a while, but she's fine now, sir..." Loren was suddenly guiltily conscious that perhaps she shouldn't have been quite so forthcoming about Jen's condition, and as the coffee had finished brewing, she filled her mug and with a hasty "By your leave, sir?"

"Yes, carry on, Lieutenant."

'Well, if Mrs Rabb is having a tough time with her pregnancy – and I'm damn sure there's more to the story than Loren Rabb was letting on – it's no wonder Rabb didn't want to burden her with his doubts about the James case! I think I'll arrange to go and see the SecNav, and just stick my head into Jennifer's office, just to make sure she's doing OK.' He stared at the coffee machine as it gurgled the last drops of his coffee into his mug and then another thought struck him, 'And what about Lieutenant Rabb? She's actually turning into a real person!' and with a laugh at that conceit he picked up his coffee mug and headed back towards his office, leaving Seaman Hawkins and Personnelman Three Heather Garner staring after him in stunned disbelief.

"Did... did we just hear him... laugh?" Garner asked

Hawkins looked at her friend, "Nah... we can't have... could we?"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm sat in his office, for once in his life feeling the need for a stiff drink. As if the whole James mess wasn't enough – and he hadn't enjoyed his talk with the Admiral in the slightest, he was still worried about the lack of news from Pearl about Sturgis' condition.

He even toyed with the idea of waiting until after lunch and then calling Tripler Hospital again but reckoned his chances of getting hold of a sympathetic nurse for a second time were pretty slim. He could of course always call Babs Saunders... but she was likely to be tied up in her now dual investigation.

Damn! He hated this feeling of helplessness and of being indecisive. Yeah, that was enough. He was going to go to talk with Mac, maybe see if she could persuade James to give up the names of his buyers.

Strolling across the bull-pen, he was surprised to see that Mac's office was empty and the lights turned out. A cursory glance was sufficient to tell him that her cover and purse were missing. Without quite knowing why, Harm could feel his stomach tensing. Shaking his head, and his brow creased in concern he called across to Harriet, "Lieutenant Sims, when did the Colonel leave?"

"I'm not sure sure, about... twenty minutes ago, I guess..."

"Any idea where she's gone?"

"No sir,"

"I put a call through to her sir," Gunny Galindez said, "and she suddenly took off like her as... uh... like her butt was on fire."

"Thanks, Gunny, any idea who the call was from?"

"I didn't catch the guy's name, but it was an MP from the Navy Yard Brig, and he said it was urgent, sir."

'H'mm... an urgent call from the brig to defence counsel rarely meant good news, I can only hope that if it affects the case that Mac will keep me informed' he thought as he again nodded his thanks in the Gunny's direction.

Harriet watched him almost wander back in the direction of his office, concern in her eyes, the Commander had been acting a bit strangely the last couple of days or so. For a moment she considered going after him, but with her experience of the way he erected walls whenever he was troubled, she was fairly certain that he wouldn't talk to her. On the other hand, he had become less... stand offish since his marriage, so perhaps if she went with a bribe in her hands...

Nodding to herself, Harriet stood and with a determined tread headed for the galley, the coffee maker and her box of home-made bear-claws.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Mac wearily pressed the button to summon the elevator down to the first floor. She felt sick, weak and dispirited. 'What sort of animals are we dealing with these days?' She was no stranger to violence, but this... this was disgusting... cold blooded... violence as a threat of future violence to come.

At last the elevator arrived and Mac almost slunk into the temporary haven it offered, grateful for the few moments of privacy that allowed her to pull herself together; she had almost lost it a few moments while she as signing back in at the CP and making sure that the location board did show her as being 'In'. So now she took a succession of deep breaths and settle herself, ready for the disclosures that she knew she had to make, even if it meant reviewing once more the ghastly evidence at present secured in her brief case.

The elevator bell pinged as it reached the third floor, and Mac braced herself and walked across the bull-pen directly to Harm's office, where she rapped on the door-jamb and waited for his invitation to enter.

"Come on in and sit down, Mac" he invited, somewhat heavily, raising his eyebrows as she carefully closed the door behind her. Nonetheless, he waited until she was seated and then pushed a paper plate towards her, "Bearclaw?" he offered, "One of Harriet's home-made specials?"

To his complete surprise, he saw her go green before his eyes, "Mac?" he said worriedly as he stood.

"No... 'salright..." she waved him off.

"It's not alright, you're sick! You must be! You never turn down food!" he said desperately trying to make light of what was, for him, a most unusual and alarming circumstance.

"Yes... yes, I am feeling a little nauseous," she confessed, "but it's more psychological, not physical," she muttered through clenched teeth.

"What is it, Mac?" he asked gently.

"The James case," she said after a long pause.

"Mac, he said warningly, if you're trying to lay a guilt tip on me to get me to change my mind..."

Mac felt a flash of anger at his words, but let the flare die down, after all they both were guilty of using unconventional tactics in their quest for courtroom supremacy, and considering some of the stunts each had pulled in the past, Harm could hardly be blamed for being sceptical.

"No... no stunt... no rabbit... I... I got a call earlier, from the Navy yard brig. Master Gunnery Sergeant James tried to kill himself."

Harm shot upright in chair, "What? How? Why?"

"As for what, like I said he tried to kill himself, as for the how, he ground down a toothbrush handle into a spike and stabbed himself in the throat with it. He nearly bled out before he was discovered, it was a pretty determined attempt, as for why..."

Mac opened her briefcase, a present from her uncle Matt when she graduated law school, and pulled out a large manilla envelope, "That's the why; he received that in his mail this morning" she said.

"Where is he now?" he asked as he toyed with the envelope, Mac's reaction to it was enough to cause him to be reluctant in opening it.

"He's in a secure room at the Navy Yard sick quarters, under guard, shackled to his bed and on suicide watch," Mac replied, "and it's what's in that envelope that put him there."

Harm looked at her curiously and opened the envelope, a photographic wallet slid onto the desk, and Mac averting her eyes from it, nodded to indicate that he should open it.

Harm, intrigued as well as concerned with her behaviour did so, taking the photographs into his hands. The first few appeared to be ordinary family photographs, a middle aged woman and two teenaged girls. Then as he shuffled through the pile, he shouted a curse and dropped the photographs as if they were red -hot.

"Dear God!" he exclaimed as he swallowed the bile that risen in his throat, "Is that... that... what I think..."

"Yeah," Mac replied, carefully looking anywhere except at the photographs, "that's what's left of his youngest daughter... Harm... she was just sixteen years old..."

Unwillingly Harm let his eyes return to the picture of the grossly mutilated body of a young girl, it seemed that the only part of her that hadn't been slashed, impaled, or hacked off, was her face, deliberately left unmarked it seemed so that there could be no doubt as to her identity.

"Look on the back," Mac choked.

Harm turned the photograph over, relieved that the dreadful image was no longer visible, but then felt his gorge rise anew as he read the scrawl on the back:

"_If you don't want same to happen to your wife and your other daughters, remember to keep silent!"_

Harm and Mac sat staring helplessly at each other for long moments until Harm sighed, "Well that's the reason he was determined to keep quiet!"

"It's also pretty clear evidence of coercion, too. Mitigating circumstances, I'd say" Mac offered.

"Yeah, but it might just backfire on the bastards who did this... Has anything been done to try to track them down and find his family?"

Mac nodded, "I had the envelope secured and had NCIS collect it for their forensics department to give it a thorough examination, but unless they find fingerprints I doubt they'll have much luck, it was pretty common brown envelope you could buy in any office supplies store..."

Harm nodded, he didn't have any time for the NCIS investigators, but he knew just how good their forensics department was.

"We're going to have to take this to the Admiral, Harm," Mac said quietly.

"Yeah... my third interview with him today... I think I'll just move into his office and save on shoe leather " Harm quipped to cover his feelings of nausea as he slid the photographs back into the wallet. "You know, Mac, these guys, must have been able to produce these photos themselves, no commercial processing outfit would release these without going to the cops. Is there anyway we can tell if they were traditional wet print process, or if they were digital images printed from a computer?"

Mac shrugged, "I dunno," she confessed, but maybe an expert photographer, or forensics could tell us." She paused and then said warily, "Harm, assuming these photographs are authentic..."

"I'll stipulate to that, Mac," Harm said swallowing heavily, "I doubt even the best make up artist in the world could produce results that look like that..."

"Well, would you accept them in mitigation of the offence as evidence of coercion and take the death penalty off the table?"

"Yeah, I not only would, Mac, I will, immediately," Harm said, as a feeling of relief washed over him.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Chegwidden heard what his two shaken senior attorneys had to say, and took a brief, nauseated look at the photographs before he shoved them back into their wallet, before he shook his head in disbelief. But, there was no point in denying the evidence of his eyes. And he didn't blame either Harm or Mac for looking as if they wanted to throw up; he was experiencing much the same feeling himself.

"OK, I agree, this is evidence of James being forced to keep silent at the very least. Whether or not this coercion existed before hand in the matter of the theft of arms, we don't know, and we won't know until he's able to talk to us." A thought occurred to him, "Can he still talk, Mac, or has he cut through his vocal cords?"

"I don't know, sir. The medical staff were more concerned with stopping his bleeding than doing a full diagnostic check..."

"OK, Mac, I'll get on to it and find out. At least, it's let you off the hook, Harm!" he added enigmatically, and then a thought occurred to him. I'll get Lieutenant Roberts to scan these into his computer and then we can make a copy on a disc for our records – I don't want any copies of these in the office where they might be seen by anyone who can't cope with them." He gave weak grin, "and I'll confess I'm not too keen on them myself, but Commander, these are worse than the Annie Lewis scene of crime shots, and you'll remember how Lieutenant Sims reacted to those! So once Roberts had worked his magic, get these to NCIS forensics for analysis."

"Aye, aye, sir!" they responded in chorus.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

A J Chegwidden felt the need for some beauty after the horrors of the afternoon and he sat back in his leather armchair and closed his eyes as he let the superb voice of William Warfield singing 'Old Man River' wash over him. 'They just don't make 'em like they used to,' he thought as the powerful voice rolled out the bass notes.

But something was wrong, there was a shrill note there where there shouldn't have been, which after a few seconds he identified as emanating from his JAG issue cell 'phone. Grunting in annoyance, he paused the 'Showboat' DVD (he might claim to be clueless about modern technology, but his home AV system would be the envy of many) and putting his half consumed glass of Wild Turkey safely on the end table next to his chair, he levered himself out his seat with a muttered growl, "This had better be important!"

"Chegwidden!" he snapped into the mouthpiece.

"_Sir, sorry to disturb you, this is Commander Saunders, at Pearl_…"

"Yes, get on with it!" Chegwidden said curtly.

"_Sir, I know it's late in DC, but you need to hear this…"_

"What do I need to hear Commander?" he demanded impatiently, 'God preserve me from long winded explanations!'

"_Sir, I've had NCIS forensics here go over the wreckage of the car Commander Turner was driving, and they've found a hole drilled into the hydraulics master cylinder, sir_."

Chegwidden's eyebrows started to climb to where his hairline should have been, "Sabotage?" he demanded.

"_That would be my guess, sir. A loss of all hydraulic fluid through a small diameter hole would have taken some time, and the gradual feeling of heaviness in the steering and the spongy feel of the brakes that Commander Turner reported would tie in with that scenario, sir_."

Chegwidden shook his head, "It doesn't add up, Commander! Anyone would realise that the wreckage would be thoroughly examined!"

"_Not if it was scattered over the sea-bed in a hundred feet of water after a four hundred foot plunge off a cliff, sir!_"

"Good point, Commander."

"_Thank you sir, and if it hadn't been for the tree that stopped the car, that's exactly where it would have ended up_!"

"You've made your point, counsellor, move on! What next?"

"_Sir! NCIS have lifted prints from the master cylinder, sir, and are running them, through IAFIS. The only prints that should be on the cylinder are from the motor pool personnel, any others will give us a suspect, sir_."

"Very good, Commander. Keep me informed!"

"_Aye, aye, sir_!"

Chegwidden closed the 'phone and returned to his seat and sighed. The mood had gone. Somehow he just didn't feel like watching the rest of 'Showboat'; moodily he thumbed the remote control and ejected the DVD from the player, and then picking up his drink he swallowed it in one gulp.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"What's wrong my love?" Jen asked as she slipped under the comforter to curl up beside Harm, "You've been quiet and brooding all evening..."

Harm rolled over to face her, and now his guard was down she could see the misery in his eyes, as he raised his hand to cup her face, allowing his thumb to trace the line of her cheek bone. "Just a bad day at the office, sweetheart, but it's getting better, just being here with you..."

Jen sighed contentedly and twisted her head slightly to press a kiss into the palm of his hand, "Hey, that's what I'm here for, to make you feel all better," she smiled. "Now, relax and get some sleep, maybe it won't feel so bad in the morning?"

"Maybe," he sighed, "maybe," as he watched her eyes flutter closed and her breathing become lighter and regular. That was one of the good things about Jen's pregnancy; well, under the current circumstances it was. These days as soon as her head was on her favourite pillow – the hollow of his shoulder – she went straight to sleep, and tonight especially that was a good thing.

Now he could lie awake with disturbing her, and ask himself some tough questions. How could he possibly tell her of the horrors that he had at second hand witnessed this afternoon, or the fear that had seized him as he realised that if whoever the perpetrators were, they could extort revenge on the family of the man who could identify them to the authorities, what would prevent them coming after the family of the man who was prosecuting him?

Could he persuade Jen to take some leave until this case was over, get her to go out to the West Coast, without having to disclose the reason for him wanting her out of the way of these filthy, murderous lunatics?


	52. Fly Away Birdie

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 52  
>Fly Away Birdie<strong>

"Tiner, I'd like a word with the Admiral, if he's free, please."

"Aye, aye, sir. Just a moment." Tiner pressed the call button on his intercom unit and waited for the JAG's reply. "Commander Rabb to see you, if convenient, sir."

"Send him in, Tiner!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" The Yeoman cocked an eye at the Commander, who nodded an acknowledgement and turned towards the JAG's door, rapping twice on the door frame.

"Enter"

Harm opened the door and having closed it behind him crossed the expanse of carpet to halt in front of the Admiral's desk. "Thank you for seeing me, sir!"

Chegwidden looked up at the younger man. He looked drawn and fatigued, almost certainly the product of a sleepless night. "What can I do for you Commander?"

"It's the James case, sir. You said to come to you if..."

"Yes, I did." Chegwidden agreed, "Take a seat, and tell me what's put a bug up your ass!" he invited the younger man.

"Um..." Now that he was here, Harm was beginning to wonder if he wasn't running scared unnecessarily, if he wasn't making a mountain out of a molehill. No, he could face the risk himself, but he would not – could not – risk Jen, their unborn baby or Loren and Sasha. Almost visibly bracing himself he looked his CO in the eye. "Sir, I don't want to appear to be over reacting or to be melodramatic, but in the light of those photographs, I confess that I'm worried. No," he corrected himself, "I'm scared. The people behind this have shown in no uncertain manner that they are willing to use the most sickening violence in order to get their way. If they've gone after the only witness who can name them, what's to stop them going after the attorney who will be putting pressure on the witness to do just that?"

Chegwidden could barely keep the surprise he was feeling from showing in his expression. This just didn't fit, Rabb, running scared? On the other hand the evidence of violence portrayed in those damn photographs was enough to give anyone a sleepless night... Then the shoe dropped, it wasn't himself he was worried about, it was his family!

"Legalman One Rabb?" he queried.

"Yes, sir," Harm said grateful for his CO's quick appreciation, but even that mental quickness hadn't quite grasped the full potential of a very ugly possibility, "But there's also the matter of Lieutenant Rabb and her daughter, sir."

"Of course there is! Sorry about that Rabb,. I guess I'm still not quite adjusted to the idea of the Lieutenant being part of your family! And no, I don't think you're being overly dramatic, you did the right thing in bringing your concerns to me. Have you any thoughts on how you're going to deal with the matter?"

"My first instinct is to get them the hell out of Dodge, sir. But how I'm going to sell that idea to either of them is, at the moment, beyond me!"

"Where would you send them?"

"I don't know, sir. At first I thought of sending them out to the West Coast, to my folks, but that might just end up increasing the size of the target, putting my mom and Frank in the cross hairs, too. If it wasn't for Jen's pregnancy and Sasha then the most likely safest place would be on board ship somewhere, but I can't see any skipper setting aside a compartment for a crèche, and regulations prevent Jen from being ordered to sea... Other than that, until we know who and what we're up against..." he shrugged, "I just plain don't know..."

Chegwidden stood and walked around his desk only to lean back to rest on it, his hip against the edge of the desk top, and his arms folded. He looked down at his junior officer. "Getting Lieutenant Rabb to leave town isn't a problem. I'll just order her to do so. And neither is getting Legalman One Rabb to leave going to be a problem," he grinned mirthlessly, "I'll simply order Commander Manetti to order her!" His grin faded, "But we'll have to bring the SecNav up to speed, or he may well query why his legal advisor has suddenly lost her Legalman. As for where we can send them, I've got a couple of ideas, but I'll need to make a couple of calls, and call in a couple of markers. I'll get back to you later today!"

Recognising the implicit dismissal, Harm rose to his feet, "Thank you, sir. I'm sorry to dump on you like this, but..."

"But you did exactly the right thing coming to me, son!" Chegwidden interrupted, "Like I said, I'm not here only to make your life difficult! Now, unless there's anything else?"

"No sir, thank you, sir!"

Chegwidden waited until Harm had once more closed the office door behind him before he reached for his 'phone. Stabbing the zero button with an impatient finger he waited for Tine to pick up.

"Sir?"

"Get me Clayton Webb at Langley, and if he's not available, then I want to speak to Director Kershaw!"

"Mister Webb, or if he's not available, then Director Kershaw, aye, sir!"

"And when you've done that, I want a connection to the FBI DC Field Office!"

"FBI DC Field Office, aye, sir!" his faithful henchman replied.

His calls came through to his 'phone with commendable speed and less then fifteen minutes later, A J Chegwidden was satisfied that things were starting to move in the direction which he wished. There were just on or two more items to be dealt with before he headed for the Pentagon.

He thumbed the call button, "Tiner!"

"_Yes, sir!_"

"Pass the word for Lieutenant Rabb and the Gunny to report to me ASAP!"

"_Aye, aye, sir!_"

Less than five minutes passed before there came a rap at his door, "Enter!" he called.

The door opened, Gunny Galindez holding it for Lieutenant Rabb to pass through, "Both of you come in!" Chegwidden ordered, and as they came to attention in front of his desk, he waved them to silence before they could report according to protocol.

"Gunny, I want to you to collect two members of the security detail, you are all to be armed, then I want you to drive Lieutenant Rabb to her home, where she will pick up her daughter, and as much clothing and supplies as she needs to care for the baby and herself for forty eight hours. You will then bring them both back here. Understood?"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Chegwidden turned to Lorn, his hand once again raised to forestall her, "Lieutenant, I don't really have the time or the inclination to explain things to you, or to argue with you right now, suffice it to say that a situation has arisen that might, repeat might, place you and your daughter at risk. Go with the Gunny and report straight back to me when you return with... Alexandra. Understood?"

A dumbfounded Loren could only nod and eventually squeak, "Aye, aye, sir!"

"Good," the Admiral grunted and then "Well, what are you standing about here for? Get going!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm returned to his office feeling a little less depressed than he had been before his talk with the Admiral, partly thankful that the senior officer hadn't mocked his fears, but partly worried that his CO had agreed with him that there was a risk. If Chegwidden was prepared to order Loren and through Tracy, Jen, to leave town that relieved him of one consideration, but he would still need to explain to them, without being too graphic why they must go. And he still had no real idea where to send them for safety.

He decided to talk things over with Mac, after all, she was still his partner, even if they were on opposite sides of the aisle for this case; she had been making a determined effort to get their friendship back on track, although he realised, if she didn't, that things would never be quite the same between them, never the way they were before he got married, and she had traditionally been the one to come up with the dispassionate plan while he had been the one to plunge headlong into things. Now that he had the added responsibility of a pregnant wife, a sister and a niece, headlong plunges had to become a thing of the past.

The decision made he levered himself out of his chair and walked the twenty or so feet along the the bull-pen to Mac's office to find it once more with the door closed and the lights out. Frowning, he tried to recall if she had said she was going to be out of the office this morning but couldn't remember her saying so.

"Gunny, any word on the Colonel's location?"

"She went to the Navy Yard sick quarters sir, to see her client..."

"When did she leave?"

Victor looked at his watch, "Uh... about forty minutes ago sir."

Harm did a quick mental calculation, 'twenty five, say thirty minutes for the journey... and an hour or so with James, well, maybe not, but let's play it safe... then another thirty minutes to get back, assuming that she does come straight back. So that would be two hours, so another hour twenty before she gets back at the earliest...'

Victor looked after him in mild surprise as Harm wandered back to his office, apparently so deep in thought that he hadn't acknowledged the Marine's answer, and that was so unlike the Commander.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen nearly jumped out of her seat when her office door opened and Admiral Chegwidden preceded Commander Manetti into the small room, while Angela Hartman nearly did herself an injury springing to her feet.

"At ease! Sit down!" Chegwidden growled., with a glance at Angela, and then turned his eyes back to Jen, "Legalman One, you need to secure your desk, accompany me to the CP and then follow me back to Falls Church."

Jen went whiter, and grabbed her desk to prevent her knees from buckling, "Harm...?" she whispered, her mouth suddenly dry.

Chegwidden silently cursed himself for a fool, of course she'd react like that. "No, Jennifer," he said in a quieter, softer voice, "Nothing's wrong with Commander Rabb. I left him at his desk writing, as far as I know, his opening statement for a forthcoming court martial – no, not his own," he tried for a joke.

Jen allowed herself a silent sigh of relief, before twitching her lips in what could, but only if regarded charitably, be described as a brief smile, "Then, what..." she started to ask, before she recalled it wasn't her place to query orders. "But what about...?" she made a vague gesture that encompassed her desk and the office at large.

"That's alright, Legalman One," Tracy Manetti said "I can still remember enough to handle your side if need be!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Jen said, not that she had much option, but puzzled by Commander Manetti's choice of words and trying figure out the implications behind them. She collected her purse and cover and with a brief eyebrow-cocked glance at Angela and a half-shrug, she followed the Admiral out into the hallway.

Moderating his stride to Jen's more stately progress, Chegwidden debated how much he could and should tell the young woman. She had to be brought to realise the potential; gravity of the situation and the need for preventive measures to be taken, but at the same time he didn't wish to cause her or her baby any harm by stressing either of them. Ideally he wanted to leave it to her husband to talk the situation through with her, but he knew the inquisitive nature of the young Petty Officer and he also knew just how persistent she could be when she wanted something.

Sure enough, he wasn't kept waiting long. "Sir, what exactly is going on? Why have you yanked me off duty?"

"Jennifer, I would far sooner Harm explained it all to you. So all I will say for now is that there is a possibility, a possibility, mark you, that some very unpleasant people may try to prevent him from investigating something, and that they may try to use you to put pressure on Harm to make him do what they want. So we're going to protect you, and everybody else they might use to get at him."

Jen gasped, "Loren?"

"Yes, Lieutenant Rabb and her daughter will be taken care of too, as will Harm's parents and Grandmother! Now, I can't stress enough that these are precautionary measures only. We should be able to get to these people before they can put into action any plans that they might have!" the Admiral replied, while thinking 'please, God, let that be the truth.' the thought of Jennifer Rabb or Loren Singer being subjected to the kind of savagery he had seen recorded in those photographs made him choke back the sudden rise of bile in his throat.

"Thank you for being so open, sir." Jen answered, knowing that he hadn't told her the full story and guessing that it would be next to impossible to get any more information of the former SeAL for the moment.

Chegwidden shot her a shrewd glance, unable to tell whether she was mocking him or being sincere. He decided to give her the benefit of the doubt, and acknowledged her words with a grunt.

They continued to the CP in silence and once signed out, Chegwidden escorted Jen to her car. "Ill drive with you until we get to my car, and then you will follow me back to Falls Church, do not worry about trying to stick with me, it's my job to ensure that I don't lose you. Got it?"

"Yes, sir!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Colonel! Thank God you're back! The Admiral wants to see you ASAP – they're all waiting for you in his office!"

Mac let the door to the bull-pen swing shut behind her, and stood for a second taken by surprise at the fervour of Harriet Sims' greeting. "Here, I'll take those!" the Lieutenant said, reaching for Mac's cover and briefcase.

"I'll keep the case, thanks, Harriet," Mac said mindful of its contents. Not that she thought for an instant that the blonde would snoop through the case, but there was always a chance of it being dropped and copies of those ghastly photographs spilling out across the floor. Contrary to the Admiral's instructions it might have been, but Mac had needed those images to jar loose Master Gunnery Sergeant James' tongue. And they had succeeded where all previous attempts to get him to talk had failed.

But... "They, Harriet?"

"Yes, ma'am, a whole slew of people, I recognised Mister..." Whatever Harriet was going to say was interrupted by the indignant wail of an infant who had just woken up alone and in a strange place.

"What the..." Mac began only to be cut off in turn by the blonde Lieutenant.

"Oh, excuse me, Ma'am!" Harriet Sims turned on her heel and made her way directly to her husband's office leaving Mac to gape after her in surprise.

Realising that there was only one place she was going to get answers in the madhouse that only a short time before had been JAG Ops, Mac squared her shoulders and headed for the Admiral's office.

"Go straight on in, ma'am," Tiner told her before she opened her mouth, "they're waiting for you!"

Again with the mysterious 'they' Mac thought as she rapped her knuckles on the door-jamb and waited for the Admiral's gruff "Enter!"

'"They" was right,' thought Mac as she entered the office and then stopped, surprised once more, but this time by the sheer number of people packed into it, their numbers making it look small and cramped for the first time that she could remember.

She recognised the Admiral, of course, as well as Harm and Loren Rabb... and that was Jennifer Rabb sitting in one of the wing chairs, and Clayton Webb was there too, but she didn't recognise the balding, grumpy-looking man in his fifties, but his suit and tie screamed FBI at her, neither did she recognise the blonde woman standing next to him, but again the suit proclaimed Federal Agent. The swarthy, squat middle-aged woman of obvious Hispanic descent was also a stranger, but her nondescript clothing made her hard to place, and she certainly didn't recognise the other brunette in a summer maternity naval uniform, although the way she was standing hid her left arm which carried her rate and rating.

"Well, shut the door, Colonel!" Chegwidden snapped, "Good of you to join us!"

"Sorry sir, I wasn't aware that I was wanted!" Mac said only slightly on the defensive.

"H'mph! You would have done if you'd kept your damn cell 'phone switched on!" Chegwidden rasped.

"Sorry again, sir. But I was in an intensive care unit and then I was driving alone, sir!"

Chegwidden eyed her narrowly but decided to press on with the business at hand, "Very well! You know Webb, of course, and this is Agent Fornell from the FBI's DC Field Office, he indicated the older man, with him is Agent Mitchell," Chegwidden indicated the brunette Petty Officer, "and Agent Jackson both also of the FBI's DC Office and last but not least, Agent Torres of the BATF. They are all here to help us with a slight problem connected with the James' case." He added the last with a grim smile.

Mac gave a slight inclination of her head in acknowledgement as Chegwidden continued, "Ladies and gentlemen, Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie, James' defence attorney."

"Isn't that a little irregular, Admiral?" Fornell inquired, "Having his defence attorney as part of this meeting?"

"It is unusual, Fornell," Chegwidden agreed, "But the Colonel is so bound up in this case, and knows so many of the players in our little drama, it can't possibly work without her contribution, even if it is only passive in not talking about what happens in this room today!"

"Yes, sir. Thank you," Mac said, and then added almost plaintively, "What is happening, sir?"

"Well, now you're here, I suppose we can continue with the briefing. In light of the photographs sent to Master Gunnery Sergeant James yesterday, we have come to the conclusion that whoever sent them, and by implication carried out the acts depicted on them, that in addition to the pressure brought to bear on James, that same sort of pressure, using similar methods might be brought to bear on Commander Rabb. So until we are certain that no risk remains, Lieutenant Rabb and her daughter as well as Legalman One Rabb are going to disappear, courtesy of Mister Webb. In the meantime, their places will be taken by Agents Jackson and Mitchell of the FBI, while Agent Fornell, Agent Torres and Mister Webb, will co-ordinate a joint service Federal Team and get a handle on whoever it is out there that is causing so much damage."

"Would a name help, sir?" Mac asked. She was going to enjoy these next few moments.

"You have a name, Colonel?" Chegwidden snapped, "When and where did you get it, and why haven't you told us!?"

"I got it forty three minutes ago from Master Gunnery Sergeant James, at the Navy Yard, sir. The man to whom he was being forced to sell weapons was a Pyotr Kozlovsky!"

"The Wolf!" Webb exclaimed bitterly, "That son of a bitch! I thought he was dead!"

"You know him?" Chegwidden demanded incredulously.

"Not well enough to have a drink with him!" Webb said cuttingly. "But yes, we – the State Department – know the name and reputation of Pyotr Mikhaelovitch Kozlovsky, well enough. He was a high mucky muck in the Russian Mafia, where he was known as 'The Wolf', until he upset the status quo by becoming involved with a rogue Russian general who was selling arms to the Chechens, but also planned to assassinate the Russian premier." Webb's eyes searched out Harm and Mac in turn and nodded slightly before he spoke again. "He dropped off the radar completely shortly after that and was reported to have been killed by some of his associates who didn't like the spotlight his messing with politics had turned on them."

He fished in his pocket and pulled out his cell 'phone. "If you'll excuse me one moment..." he turned away from the rest of the group and spoke quietly and urgently into his 'phone, while the Admiral glared at him, until he turned back, slipping the cell 'phone back into the pocket of his expensive suit jacket.

"Have someone watch your fax machine, I'm having shots of Kozlovsky sent over along with what we know of him and a list of his known associates. On the meantime, I have to make arrangements for securing Petty Officer Rabb and Lieutenant Rabb and her baby!"

"And me!" Harm broke in.

"Admiral..." Webb started to protest, but got no further.

"Webb is right – just for once," with a wry grin Chegwidden cut him off as he turned to Rabb. "I appreciate your concerns Commander, but if you go underground too, then this Kozlovsky has won, by scaring you out of the game, and we'll just be faced with the same situation but with the Mattonis or Roberts and Sims . No Commander, we'll have to play this one by the book. But Webb, if you allow one hair on any of their heads to be hurt, then I shall come looking for you, and when I find you, what happened in Moscow will be a love tap. Understood?"

"Yeah, I got it!" Webb sulked, his hand going, by reflex, to his nose.

Agent Fornell then turned to the Admiral, "Once you've got the C – ah, the State Department's file on Kozlovsky, the Bureau would appreciate a copy."

"That file's on a need to know basis!" Webb protested.

"And right about now, Webb the Bureau has that need to know!" Chegwidden broke in, "Or is there something you're not telling us, Webb?" His voice lowered dangerously and he took a step towards the CIA Agent.

"No, everything we've got on Kozlovsky is on that file. Well, as far as I'm aware, that's everything. It's just that there are some sources on that file that we'd like to keep as restricted as we can!"

"Give it up, Webb! There's nobody in this room that hasn't seen through your State Department BS for years!" Fornell spoke scathingly. "Practically the whole world knows that you report to Langley, and not the Truman building!"

Chegwidden nodded, "That's true enough, Webb. Mac, can you go and watch the fax machine please, and make sure nobody in the bull-pen sees what comes in."

"Aye, aye, sir!" an obviously disappointed Marine officer replied.

"Don't worry, Mac, we'll keep you posted," Chegwidden replied. "Lieutenant Rabb, you brought a change of clothes with you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then go and get changed into them then report back here so that you can lend your uniform to Agent Mitchell. Once that's done, Webb, you can get the Rabbs out of here."

"Aye, aye, sir," Loren replied, standing and then moving to the door.

Webb nodded, and turned to Harm who was seething silently in the background, "I'll look after them Harm, and I'll make sure that your wife calls you on a daily basis until this is all cleared up."

"You do that, Webb," Harm gritted, "You do that!"

"A bit risky, having her call him, Webb," Fornell interrupted.

Webb felt a minor surge of triumph as he replied in just as scathing a tone as the FBI Agent had used earlier, "Encrypted 'phone, Fornell!"

The hitherto silent Torres sniffed in disdain, "You can get the measuring stick out later, boys!" bringing a snort of suppressed laughter from Harm, which earned him a glare from the Admiral.

A knock on the door heralded Mac's return. She held in her hand a sheaf of paper which she handed to the Admiral. Who hastily shuffled through them before turning back to Webb, "Can you get clearer copies of these shots? To me, and to Agent Fornell?"

"Yes, I can do that Admiral, but they'll have to be couriered over. I'll get on it now," Webb agreed, once more pulling his cell 'phone from his pocket and turning his back on the rest of the room.

In the meantime Chegwidden started to read the file he had just received, reading out loud some of the more pertinent and interesting passages, "Kozlovsky... first came to the notice of the Soviet authorities when he was caught selling stolen Russian military arms to the Mujahadeen in the early eighties, he was tried, convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment in one of the Gulags. Was pardoned and released on the fall of Communism and promptly disappeared for five or six years before he resurfaced as a leading light of the Moscow branch of the Russian underworld. Has dealings in drugs, extortion, white slaving, prostitution, murder for hire – including suspected involvement in the deaths of four CIA Agents in Dubai, Kandahar, Bogotá and Mexico City. It is believed that he may also be in bed with the Colombian and Mexican drug cartels, and that he is back at his old trade of selling weapons, this time to the cartels, militia groups here in the USA and the our old friends, the Chechens. He has a reputation of being totally ruthless and merciless. He doesn't just..." and then remembering that Jen was still in the room, he hastily closed the file, and cleared his throat. "Anyway, what we have here is enough to go on, and provided Mister Webb can get those sharper pictures to us, we have an advantage over him in that we now know who we are looking for, and he doesn't know that we have become aware of his identity."

Fornell nodded, "I'll liaise with Homeland Security, NICE should have a record of him entering the country, if he did so legally."

"James has been dealing with him for four months, so he's been here for longer than that," Mac added, "so start your search before then!"

"Thank you, Colonel," Fornell acknowledged her contribution, before he turned to look at Harm who was standing protectively over Jen, "Commander, what I propose to do is to allow Agent... uh... Mister Webb to protect your wife and the Lieutenant. My two agents here, will assume their identities and take up residence in their homes. I will also assign two agents as close protection for them and you in those homes. Thee will be three shifts per twenty four hour period. And the first shift will be inserted tonight under cover of darkness. Oh, Agent Mitchell is not, despite her appearance, really pregnant!" he grinned reassuringly. In the meantime, we will track down Kozlovsky and his subordinates, and we will take them out!"

"Just one thing, Fornell," Webb interrupted, "Kozlovsky's normal MO in this sort of situation is to cut and run. That he's staying around argues that whatever he;s got planned here is something big that isn't ready to go yet. If he's supplying arms to militia groups, the cartels and Chechen rebels, he's got to have more sources than just James. May I suggest, Admiral that you brief your counterparts in the other armed services and have the Army's CID and the Air Force's OSI carry out clandestine inventory checks on all armouries, Guard and Reserve as well as Regular?"

"Good points, Mister Webb, I'll... yes, what is it?" he raised his voice as a knock came at the door.

"Just me, sir!" Loren opened the door, she was now dressed in a grey Nike Sweat shirt and blue jogging bottoms and carried her uniform on a hanger.

Chegwidden gave her a visual inspection, "Good," he grunted, "Alright Webb, conduct the ladies to your place of safety, and make sure that Legalman One Rabb can call her husband no later than twenty hundred this evening!"

"Yes, I'll do that!" Webb said with a hint of impatience in his voice before turning to Jen and Loren, "Ladies?, this way please!"

Harm gave Jen the support of his forearm as she stood, and then ignoring all protocol, he took her in his arms and kissed her, "Take care, sailor," he whispered.

"And you!" she told him fervently, before averting her face so that no-one, most of all Harm could see the tears in her eyes.

"You too, Loren!" he called across the room to her.

"I will, and I'll make sure Jen does too!" she assured him.

"All very touching! But can we please get moving?!" Webb demanded impatiently.

Chegwidden waited until the door had closed behind them before he turned to face the others in the office, "Right, that's phase one started. Agent Fornell, do you need anything else, before launching your manhunt or dragnet or whatever it is you call it these days?"

"Just the better mug-shots, Admiral." Fornell answered.

"Very well, I'll have them delivered to the DC Office the second I get my hands on them and can get copies made!" Chegwidden assured him, "So..."

"So, I'll leave you to brief my agents on what you want them to do. Jackson, Mitchell, do as the Admiral tells you. I'll have your back-up ready to go by dusk. Good luck!"

The two female agents nodded as Fornell favoured them with one of his wintry smiles, and with a nod to Harm, Mac and the Admiral, he and the taciturn agent Torres left the office.

"Ladies, we will have to keep up the appearance of normal routine for Lieutenant Rabb and Legalman One Rabb. That means you will have to wear uniform and comport yourself in accordance with military protocol while so doing. Now, I trust my people, all of them, but there is always the chance of a careless word dropped in the wrong place. So to minimise that risk, your substitution for naval personnel will be on a strictly need to know basis. That means the five of us in this office and the security detail at the CP. You will both report in here each and every working day, and you will be sequestered in the small conference room with the cover story that you are doing legal research on an upcoming, high profile, but currently classified case. I realise that this is going to be extremely boring for you, so I suggest that you bring along something to occupy your minds. Rabb, you'll contribute to this subterfuge by making it known that I requested the SecNav to waive the usual restriction on husbands and wives being in the same command, and had Legalman One Rabb sent TAD here because we needed her legal research skills. So for God's sake man try to look happy about that at least!" His voice became quieter as he took a couple of paces towards his patently unhappy junior. "We will look after Jennifer to the absolute maximum. I... I'm... a little fond of her myself," he finished with an embarrassed cough.

"We're all behind you on this," Mac came forward to offer her support.

Harm nodded, for once his eloquence had totally deserted him.

"Colonel, why don't you escort agents Jackson and Mitchell to the women's room and help them get squared away with their appearance and then take them up to the small conference room, and give them a brief run down on Navy and Corps protocol?"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Mac replied and then turned to the two agents, "On my six!" she snapped at them and turned to leave.

"She... uh... she means follow her..." Harm interjected helpfully as the two FBI women looked bemusedly at each other.

Chegwidden looked at Harm, noticing his already drawn appearance, "We will get this sorted out, son," he said gently.

"I know sir, I know, But if anything happens to Jen, Kozlovsky will never face trial!"


	53. A Gilded Cage

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 53  
>The Gilded Cage<strong>

Loren allowed Webb to hustle her out into the bull-pen before she dug her heels in. "Alright, Webb, where are you taking us?"

"That's classified!" Webb snapped in a purely reflex reaction.

"Oh for God's sake!" Loren exclaimed, her still at times uncertain temper, especially when she was stressed, rising to the surface, "We are physically going to be there, what harm can there be in us knowing where we are!?"

"I'll explain in the car!" Webb stalled for time, shooting a worried glance around the bull-pen, "Now just get moving!"

"No." Loren said flatly, ignoring Jen's muffled protest, "I'm not going anywhere without my daughter!" and turning on her heel she headed for Bud Roberts' office.

Harriet was perched on the corner of Bud's desk watching her husband cradling Sasha in his arms and talking to her. Sasha gazed silently up into Bud's face, her hands reaching for his nose, while he chuckled and by subtle movements of his head avoided her grasp.

Loren stood and shook her head in amazement. Sure, she had realised long before that Bud was good with little A J, but that was to be expected, they were, after all, father and son, but he seemed delighted now to have a baby in his arms again, and even more surprisingly, Sasha, if her quiet gurgles were anything to go by, looked to have taken to Bud as well. However, and no matter how much she appreciated the picture, there was no time to waste, and although her inner devil delighted in winding up Webb, Loren knew that she had to get going – at least before the Admiral left his office and found them still hanging around the bull-pen. That, she reflected, would not be good for her career.

So although she didn't want to break up the little scene in front of her, she coughed meaningfully.

"Oh, Loren!" Harriet almost jumped off Bud's desk in surprise, "What's happening?"

"I was just going to ask you and Bud the same thing!" Loren replied, knowing that she couldn't tell either of the two other lieutenants exactly what was going on.

"Oh... Sasha was wet..." Bud explained, "So I changed her, but she still seemed unsettled, so we've been playing a little game, haven't we?" he addressed his last remark to the little person in his arms.

Loren smiled, "Thank you, Bud... but unfortunately, Sasha and I have an urgent appointment elsewhere... so if you'll pass me her diaper bag... thanks" Loren slung the bag over her shoulder, "And my daughter?"

Harriet looked at the casually dressed and already over-burdened blonde lieutenant, and asked, "What about your sea-bag?" indicating that bulging item of luggage, "Can Bud carry it down for you?"

Loren considered her options, Bud really didn't need to know in what vehicle Webb was taking her and Jen, and then had a wicked thought, "No..." she grinned, a pure pre-Alexandra Loren Singer grin, "No, thank you... but if Bud would be so good as just to carry it out into the bull-pen, I'm sure Webb can handle it from there!"

Bud gawped as he tried to puzzle through the ramifications of what Loren had just said, but Harriet gave a crow of amused laughter, "Loren, you are so bad!" she exclaimed.

"I try, I try," Loren said modestly, and then allowed her own grin to crease her face.

Harriet watched Bud follow Loren out into the bull-pen with a wistful expression on her face, and then, when Bud returned, she shut the door, and standing in front of him, her hands flat against his chest, she said, "Bud... I'm really happy we've got another one on the way... Seeing Loren with Sasha, has just about melted my insides! If I wasn't already expecting, I'd be dragging you over this desk just about now!"

"Ah," Bud said knowingly, "It's just those..."

"Bud Roberts!" Don't you dare say it's just hormones!" Harriet scolded him, torn between anger and amusement.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Clayton Webb stood silently fuming by the side of the black Ford Expedition, while Jen, already in the vehicle assisted Loren in securing Sasha's baby seat, Loren having categorically refused to hold Sasha in her arms while being driven 'all over the mid-Atlantic region' as she had put it.

Webb was not only put out by the delay in getting started, but also by being relegated to the role of porter, first in carrying Loren's over-packed (and heavy) sea-bag down from the bull-pen, and then having to retrieve Sasha's car-seat from the motor pool sedan, the full length of the parking-lot to the Expedition, Loren having vetoed even just driving the length of the parking lot without Sasha being properly and safely strapped in.

Finally, after what seemed an inordinate amount of time to the fretting spook, Loren climbed into the vehicle, Sasha now safely strapped into her car-seat sandwiched between Loren and Jen. "We're set," Jen innocently told the CIA Agent, "What are you waiting for?"

With a fulminating glance at his two passengers, Webb climbed into the driver's seat, and having switched on the ignition ostentatiously selected 'Drive' and rolled the heavy vehicle out of the parking lot. Loren and Jen sat back, and despite their individual worries each independently resolved to keep the other's spirits up. Neither woman noticed the dark blue Chevrolet Malibu that eased out of a side street and followed the Expedition towards the beltway.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Loren and Jen could see through the tinted windows that they were heading in the direction of DC, although where exactly they had no means of knowing, neither of them even recognising the neighbourhood in which the Expedition eventually stopped.

The blue Malibu coasted a half-block down the road where it pulled over to the side and the front seat passenger getting out of the car leaned back against it and casually lit up a cigarette, his eyes scanning the immediate neighbourhood, but avoiding letting them rest too long on the Expedition and its occupants.

Webb waited until Loren had unstrapped Sasha from her car-seat, and then with a grunt that might have signified either distaste or effort, he slung the diaper bag over his shoulder and reluctantly grabbed Loren's sea-bag, before conducting them up a flight of stone steps to a three storey house that bore the multiple bell pushes that indicated it had been transformed into a number of apartments.

Webb led them to the elevator and then to an upper storey apartment where he opened the door and ushered them in. Jen and Loren cast a critical eye at their surroundings. The room in which they stood was plainly, almost sparsely furnished, with a cheap couch and two equally cheap and mismatched chairs and a low coffee table, against one wall stood a battered table that looked as if it ought to be in a hard-scrabble farmer's kitchen and three mismatched wooden chairs. Plain brown drapes hung at the windows and a threadbare carpet of indeterminate colour covered the floor. Three doors, two at one of the lounge and one at the other hinted at other rooms, but neither woman was tempted to explore.

Webb had enjoyed their reactions, and when he spoke there was a hint of condescension in his voice, "Don't get too comfortable. We won't be staying long. I don't want to take the risk of driving you all over the country during daylight, and I don't want to take you to your new location until after dark, so we'll just sit here quietly until then. But we've got a couple of things that need doing. Firstly, both of you stay away from the windows. Secondly, Petty Officer Rabb, we need to get you out of that uniform, you can change in that room there," he indicated one of the two doors at the far end of the room.

"Nope, not going to happen," Jen said decisively.

"Oh for God's sake, Rabb!" the exasperated spy almost yelled, "Even if you weren't pregnant, you're Harm's wife, what makes you think..."

"I don't." Jen said stopping him mid-tirade, "I don't have anything to change into. The Admiral whisked me away from my desk, straight to JAG, I haven't got anything else to wear with me."

"Oh for God's sake!" Webb ground out in frustration. He stood looking at Jen for minute, the baffled expression of his face gradually being replaced by a more resolute look as he came to a decision, "Right, what size maternity clothes do you wear?"

"I don't know," Jen said, "I've been wearing Harm's jogging bottoms and sweat shirts around the house... um... bigger than tiny bump but smaller than beached whale, I guess."

"That's not exactly a lot of help!" Webb said crossly.

"Yes, it is!" Loren leaped to Jen's defence, "Any woman would know exactly what Jen meant!"

Webb frowned, then dipped a hand into the pocket of his perfectly tailored suit jacket, and retrieved his top of the range, right up to the minute cell 'phone, "Just wait here a few minutes!" he directed and disappeared through the nearer door.

"Thank God he's out of the room!" Loren said as she sat on the couch, and raising her sweat shirt, she opened her bra and lifted Sasha to her breast.

Jen smiled, and rummaging in the diaper bag found a hand towel which she laid over the blonde's shoulder. Loren smiled her thanks and then as she saw Jen's smile as the brunette watched Sasha nurse, she added, "Still not gotten old?"

"No, never," Jen said and then sighed, "I can't wait until she arrives..." she laid a protective hand on her swollen abdomen.

"You just wait another month or two!" Loren said, "When you can't see your feet, and you've got permanent back-ache. You'll know all about wanting to get it over with then!"

"Oh, Loren, it's not like that at all..."

"Yeah, yeah, it is!" Loren said, but with the hint of a teasing glint in her eye.

"Loren Rabb!" Jen protested. Then she shot a glance at the door through which Webb had vanished, "What are you going to do if he comes back before you've finished?"

"It's not a matter of me finishing, it's this young lady here! Isn't it my darling?" Loren cooed at Sasha, who with eyes shut and her face screwed up in concentration was pulling fiercely at Loren's breast, "But if he does come back before she's done, then I'll just turn my back to him. Trust me Jen, when you've had OBs and nurses prodding and poking about while you're flat on your back with your legs spread for hours, you soon lose your modesty!" she shrugged, and then "What?" as Jen burst into laughter.

"Oh, I was just thinking, if you've got your back to him, when you burp Sasha, wouldn't it be a sight to see his face if she was demonstrate her talent for projectile vomiting, all over his two thousand dollar suit!"

The mental picture that Loren formed of Webb's face in such an eventuality was enough to set Loren giggling too.

Webb chose that precise moment to return to the lounge, a satisfied smirk on his face, but he was brought up short by the sight of two giggling women side by side on the couch, one of whom held a baby to her naked breast. Swallowing uncomfortably, he looked away even as Loren turned to present her back to him.

Given all that had happened today, Webb hadn't expected to find his charges laughing so hard that tears threatened to run down their face, but he wasn't about to ask them the cause of their amusement, he already had an uncomfortable feeling that he was the cause of it. He was also discovering how irritating feminine giggling could be.

"All this damn giggling's a bit unnecessary, isn't it?" he said severely.

"No," Loren shook her head, "Laughter is never out of place, especially when it's cathartic. It was either laugh or cry; with which would you prefer to deal?"

Webb shuddered at the thought of two crying women and gave himself a mental shake, "Alright, leave the laughing to one side. Here's what's going to happen. Very shortly we will be visited by a visibly pregnant woman. When she arrives, she will strip off her maternity wear which she will give to Petty Officer Rabb to wear, and then she will change into Navy uniform. She will stay here until after we've gone, and then go back to her usual routine."

"So, she'll want my uniform?" Jen guessed.

"No, no she won't. She's wearing a prosthetic belly, which she will get rid of and will have a uniform of her own. Now, as you have nothing with but the clothes you stand up in, I suggest that you make a list of everything you'll need for the next forty eight hours, change of clothes, toiletries, underwear, everything. That goes for you too Lieutenant Rabb, I know you've got a bit with you, but I also know you packed in a hurry, and not only will you have forgotten something, but I'd hazard a guess that most of what you brought is for your baby." He held up a hand to dispel any protests and then dipped it into his inside pocket and brought out a notebook and a mechanical pencil. "Look, just make a list", he sighed "and then when Agent Charlton gets here, you can hand it over to her, and she can do some phone shopping for you. It'll give her something to do until dark. We'll arrange to have everything delivered to our final destination. Oh and one other thing, in the meantime, while there's not much in the fridge, there's enough eggs to make us all an omelette. That OK with you?"

Loren and Jen looked at each other in surprise, "Yes, thank you, Webb," Loren spoke for both of them.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

A J Chegwidden let his eyes pass down one side of the long conference table and back up the other side as he surveyed his assembled officers and guests as he finished briefing them as fully as he felt he could. "So, although Agents Mitchell and Jackson." he nodded acknowledgement at the two FBI Agents at the foot of the table, "will be masquerading as Lieutenant and Legalman Rabb, and while they will be as sequestered as far as possible, it would be naïve to think that the substitution will go unnoticed by the support staff. However that does not mean that anything I have said here today needs to be discussed at all! And if you hear any speculation in the bull-pen then it is your job to step on it. Hard. There is too much at risk to allow for idle speculation and scuttlebutt. Any questions?"

"Sir," Bud Roberts spoke with an apologetic glance at a stone-faced Harmon Rabb, "Is there any reason to think that the threat might be extended to other staff and their families?"

"No, Mister Roberts, there isn't. The steps that have been taken today are purely precautionary, and have been taken in the light of Commander Rabb's refusal to be intimidated into relinquishing the prosecution in this case, so as long as he is the prosecutor, then we are confident that if, and I say if, a threat develops then it will be aimed at him and his! Anything else from anybody? No? Good – dismissed!"

The room erupted into a clatter of chair legs on the polished wooden floor as the assembles officer rose to their feet as Chegwidden stood, only the two FBI Agents being caught unaware, and hurrying to make good their lapse.

Mac waited until the room was almost empty before her quietly spoken "Harm?" stopped him from filing out into the hallway with the rest of the assembly.

"Mac?" he turned to her with an inquiring look.

"Harm, I know this isn't going to be easy for you, so if you'd like some company this evening, I could come over for an hour or two. I could bring some food, Chinese maybe or Thai? And we could look over the case. It would be almost like old times..."

Harm looked into her eyes searching for any hint that she might have an ulterior motive underlying her offer, but could find none. Nevertheless, Mac had made never made the effort to visit them in Annandale road and somehow he wasn't quite comfortable with the thought that her first visit should be made at a time when Jen wasn't there.

"Thanks, Mac, but I think not... It's good of you to offer, but you've never visited before, and as the house may be being watched, it might not be wise to change long-standing patterns of behaviour. But once this is all over, then yeah, I'd like it if you could come around once in a while, and I'm sure Jen would be happy to see you again..."

Mac nodded, "OK, I get it... but if you should change your mind, just give me a call."

Harm saw the sudden sadness in her eyes, but nodded in his turn, "I will, Mac. But don't put your evening on hold. OK? I'm not going to be on my own, I'll have two FBI Agents with me, and another two at the bottom of the yard in Loren's place

Mac couldn't help but grin, "Only you, Harm. Only you!"

"What do you mean?" he demanded.

"Most folk have fairies at the bottom of their garden, only you could have Fibbies!"

**xxxxx-xxxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The Admiral had barely settled himself at his desk when his internal 'phone buzzed, "Yes, Tiner?" he said, only just this side short of being snappy.

"_Sir it's Commander... Commander Saunders, calling from Pearl, on line one, sir_!"

"Put her through!" Chegwidden ordered.

"_Good afternoon, sir_!" Barbara Saunders' voice was faint but discernible.

"What have you got for me, Commander?"

"_Not much, sir! NCIS forensics lifted a partial from the hydraulics on the car that Commander Turner was driving, and it doesn't belong, as far as we can tell, to anybody in the motor pool maintenance section, and nobody else would have a valid reason for handling that system sir. But there are only four points that could be used for a match, and that's not enough to order an arrest._"

"But you have an idea as to who the fingerprint belong to, don't you?" Chegwidden asked pointedly.

"_Yes, sir. It seems to belong to a Seaman Garcia, he's been working as Lieutenant Vukovic's Legalman._"

"H'mm... OK... who is NCIS lead investigator at Pearl these days?"

"_That would be... Agent Uchida, sir_," Saunders replied.

"Right, bring Garcia in for questioning and have Uchida lean on him. I can't see a seaman having any reason to sabotage Commander Turner's car, so he must have done it on behalf of somebody else. If he breaks and confesses then charge the son of a bitch and notify his convening authority."

"_Aye, aye, sir_!"

"And the same goes for anybody he implicates, anybody! D'you hear there?"

"_Loud and clear, sir!_"

"And how is Commander Turner, Saunders?"

"_Still in pain, sir but counting his blessings that he's still alive._"

"Yeah, I guess he would be! And have you interviewed Lieutenant Pearson yet?"

"_No sir, she's on my schedule for later this afternoon after I've seen Commander Turner, sir_."

"H'mm, well don't forget, this is a two pronged interview. I want a full account of the alleged sexual harassment case, and I want a full and proper account, from her side, of Vukovic's handling of her initial interview. Understood?"

"_Understood, sir_!"

"Good, when you've done that, formally interview Vukovic and form your own opinion as to who did what to whom, when and how, and if you think the case merits it, prefer charges where and how you see fit. Call me tomorrow with an update! Goodbye, Commander."

"_Aye, aye, sir!_"

Chegwidden sat back and reflected as he put the 'phone down. He had chosen Barbara Saunders for this investigation on the basis of her SRB, but when she had reported for duty, he hadn't been too impressed with her demeanour, bearing or appearance, but she did seem to have the investigation in Pearl under control, and hadn't kept bothering him with requests for advice or authorisation for decisions which she should be making on the spot. In fact, the only fault he could find with her was her tendency to be garrulous, and if she proved to be competent at her job, he could manage to live with that. H'mm... maybe he could find a spot for here at JAG HQ, after all there were plenty of slots that had been gapped, including the job of Chief of Staff that Mac was handling in addition to her roles as investigator and attorney...

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Mac, unaware of her current place in her CO's thoughts was thinking of her future. Although she had intellectually accepted Harm's marriage to Jen, she hadn't really thought about where it left them, as in Harm and herself as partners and as close friends. She sort of assumed that once the fuss and feathers had died down that somehow she and he would be able to pick up their old friendship, but based on his refusal of her offer of company this evening, that was decidedly not going to be the case. Oh, he had been polite enough in his refusal, and had come up with the half-lie over security, and at least had saved her face with that, but she had seen through his ploy and had realised with a shock, and with a pang of sorrow too, that he didn't want to spend time with her, at least not while Jen wasn't around.

She didn't think she was lying to herself when she told herself that her offer had been meant on a strictly platonic basis, but it was going to be hard working with him now, when his grin could still make feel weak at the knees.

Idly tapping a pencil on the legal pad in front of her she considered her options. She had already been here over six years, twice the normal tour, and while she enjoyed the work, she wasn't getting the command experience she needed if she was ever to get her Eagles – a remote possibility considering her spotty record – but still a possibility. If she didn't then she was going to hit her twenty in a few years and then it would have to be either up or out. Coming to a decision, she reached for the 'phone and was on the point of calling her monitor when she was interrupted by a rap on her door frame.

"Good morning, Colonel."

Mac turned to look at her visitor, Peter Bryce, no less, Master Gunnery Sergeant James' CO, "Good morning to you too, Colonel," she returned his greeting. "Come in, close the door, and take a seat."

Bryce did as Mac invited him, holding his cover on his lap as he sat. "I won't beat about the bush," he said, "I've just come from the Navy Yard. It's a pretty mess that James had got himself into." Mac nodded her agreement.

"I understand that the photos he got were pretty disturbing," Colonel Bryce said pointedly.

Mac nodded again, gulping as she felt the bile rise to her throat as she recalled those pictures, "Yes, they were... they're not something that I ever want to see again, bit they'll have to be produced as evidence in mitigation..."

"So you agree that there are mitigating circumstances?" Bryce interrupted eagerly.

"Not a doubt about it," Mac said.

"So... there's a chance that the prosecution will take the death penalty off the table? Please say yes."

"Already gone, Colonel! Commander Rabb withdrew his intention to seek the death penalty the second he saw those photographs. All we have to do is convince the judge and panel not to sentence James to that."

"Is that likely?"

"Likely, no... but it is still a possibility. But, I also need to remind you that James will spend the rest of his life behind bars."

"What about a plea bargain? I mean if he's given you the names..."

"He's given us one name, and that's all. Look I'll be frank with you; In my book James is a traitor. Pure and simple, and in some ways I feel that he does deserve the needle, but I fought against on this occasion not for James' sake, but for Commander Rabb's sake. He's been involved in a sentence review as the prosecutor and won, and I saw what that did to him. I also saw what the thought of James being strapped to a gurney while they pumped a cocktail of drugs into him was doing to Rabb. It was for his sake, not James', that I wanted the needle taken out of the equation!" Mac finished.

"Oh... I see..." Bryce said somewhat aimlessly.

"Look, Colonel, I don't know Master Gunnery Sergeant James, except by this case. I don't know what sort of a Marine he was, but he betrayed his country, his Corps and his fellow marines. You have known him longer and know what sort of a marine he was. I am sorry for his loss, his daughter was far too young to die, especially like that. But he committed the crime, and while I will do my best to procure him the lightest sentence I can, he must still pay!"

"Yes, I know that!" Bryce answered somewhat testily. "And for your information, and for what it's worth, James was a good marine and a good man, a good husband and a good father, and I would dearly love to know how this Kozlovsky guy got his claws into him in the first place!"

"So would I, Colonel, so would I. It would give me a bit of extra leverage in trying to get his sentence reduced!" Mac declared.

"But... you said... he..."

"That was my personal opinion, Colonel, but my job is to present him in the most favourable light I can. I'm not going to try for an acquittal, there's too much evidence stacked against him. But I might, might, I add, succeed in getting his sentence reduced to something less than life without parole!"

Bryce stood, "Thank you for your candour Colonel. I'll go back and talk to James tomorrow, and if there's anything that comes up, I'll be in touch."

"You do that, Colonel!" Mac rose to her feet and offered Bryce her hand.

"Thank you, Colonel,! He said rather stiffly, but he took it in his hand for a moment and squeezed it gently.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen and Loren did not have to wait long for their visitor to arrive and when she did Agent Charlton did indeed look heavily pregnant, and loaded down with a pair of plastic bags. She was a brunette of about Jen's height, and maybe a little older, similar enough in overall appearance to pass for her after dark, especially if a watcher didn't know either woman by sight and was just looking for a female in Navy uniform. She greeted Webb coolly enough, but turned a friendly smile on Jen, "I guess I'm to be your alter ego!" she said, "shall we get it over with, I can't wait to lose my bump!"

Once changed into the maternity wear that Jacquie Charlton had worn to the safe house, Jen felt much better. Her own maternity uniform was now rolled neatly and tucked into the bottom of the plastic bag that had contained Jacquie's uniform, while the other bag proved to contain a packet of tea bags and an assortment of cookies, and a selection of wrapped sandwiches.

In answer to Webb's raised eyebrow when she unveiled this feast, Jacquie merely remarked, "Yes, I know there'll be a dinner waiting for them, but Jennifer, in particular needs to eat little and often at the moment."

The three women spent the afternoon firstly in organising a shopping list for Jen and Loren and then once that had been done and they were relaxing with their tea and sandwiches, they spent a very pleasant hour in quietly assassinating Webb's character.

Eventually, the long-suffering spook decided it was dark enough to move and rounding up his charges, he laid a last withering glance on Jacquie Charlton designed to promise dire retribution at a later date, but which she laughed off, waving to the others as they left the apartment. But now she was on her own she carefully checked that each window was secured and the drapes closed and that the door was firmly locked, chained and bolted, and then with her cell phone and side arm on the coffee table she moved one of the armchairs next to it and sat down to wait for further orders.

Jen, Loren, Sasha and their luggage safely loaded into the Expedition, Webb pulled away into the early evening DC traffic, heading north, and as he passed the blue Malibu, its engine was started and it also eased into the traffic, two or three vehicles behind the Expedition.

Their nerves once again on edge after the comparatively relaxed afternoon they had spent, the two women were almost completely silent as the powerful vehicle left the lit up area of DC and headed for rural northern Virginia. Only Loren broke the silence by whispering to Jen, "I couldn't get hold of yours, but in the side pocket of the diaper bag, I've got my Sigma."

Jen gave Loren a sharp glance in return but said nothing.

The journey seemed to take for ever as the roads became less and less congested as each turn off took them further and further out of the main stream of traffic, until at last Webb applied the brakes, bringing the Expedition almost to a halt as he negotiated a tricky right turn from the pavement onto a dirt round which wound on into the forest.

The blue Malibu which had been following at a discreet distance drove on past the turning for about a quarter of mile before it halted and complete a three point turn, and then with its lights turned off crawled back to a point about thirty yards from the turn off.

The jolting of the vehicle over the ruts in the dirt woke Sasha, who as normal had fallen asleep lulled by the motion of the car. She started to grizzle and was only partially soothed by Loren's voice singing softly, "Schlaf kindlein, schlaf..." the same plaintive melody that Jen had heard her singing almost a lifetime ago in La Jolla.

After what seemed a further age Webb stopped the vehicle in front of a massive pair of wrought iron gates set in a ten feet high brick wall. A quiet word into the microphone clipped to his lapel was sufficient for the gates to be swung open and the Expedition crawled through them off the dirt and onto gravel. Its headlights briefly lit up a large red-brick house, more like a mansion, Jen thought as they swept past it, and on around the side of the house and further down the gravelled drive until the a curve around a stand of trees hid the house, and the Expedition's headlights lit up a small neo-colonial bungalow.

"That's it ladies, we're here!" he announced.

"And where's here?" Loren asked.

"That's need to know, and you don't" Webb said curtly, and then twisting in his seat he said to Jen, "It's just gone eight. Do you want to call Rabb now, or leave it ten minutes until we're all safely inside?"

Jen thought rapidly, Harm would be expecting her call, and if it was already late, then she'd best call immediately. "I'll call now!" she said decisively.

"OK," Webb nodded as he passed her his cell 'phone, "I take it you know the number?"

Jen just looked at him levelly as she started to punch in the number. She held her breath for the four times it took his cell to ring before he answered.

"_Jen_?"

"Yes, Harm, it's me. We're all safe and sound!"


	54. Safe as Houses

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 54  
>Safe as Houses<strong>

Harm knew it was irrational given the circumstances, but he felt really uncomfortable watching the pregnancy suited and Navy uniformed Agent Jackson climb out of Jen's battered old Escort and walk the few yards to the front door before letting herself in with Jen's key. Although Harm had given his grudging consent to the charade, and he knew it was all being done to protect Jen, Loren and Sasha he couldn't help but feel it a violation that some other woman could just walk into his and Jen's home. Even Loren usually gave a precautionary tap on the door, before opening it slightly and making her presence known before she entered the house. And Loren was the nearest thing he and Jen had for family this side of Belleville.

Nevertheless he forced himself to rise in greeting to his unwanted guest. "Good evening Agent Jackson."

"Commander," she returned coolly, and gave him a measuring look. "Why do I get the feeling that I'm not exactly welcome?"

Harm blinked in surprise, whatever this FBI Agent wasn't, she was certainly forthright, "That's probably because you're not!" he responded, "But your presence here is a necessary evil, and I will try to put my personal feelings on hold and develop a professional working relationship with you, and with the rest of your team, although you should probably be aware that I've not always been on the best of terms with the FBI."

"Yeah, I've read your file," the agent said, "Do you mind if I sit?"

"Of course not, after all, mi casa es su casa!" he replied with bitter irony.

Jackson sat, "Look, Commander, I'm not exactly new at this sort of job, which is why I was tasked with it, and that previous experience has, believe it or not given me some sort of insight into the way you feel. You resent the fact that your wife is not here, and that to the observer I am her. You don't particularly like that there is another woman in your home without your wife being present. And you're probably worried sick about her safety, and the safety of your... sister and her baby. These are fairly common feelings for someone in your position, but if we are to establish a professional working relationship," she turned his own words against him, "then you _are_ going to have to get over them, so try not - do !" she ended with an attempt at a joke

"Now, we need to maintain some sort of normal domestic routine; I strongly suspect that your wife doesn't spend all her waking hours in uniform, so if you could show me somewhere I could get changed?"

"Changed into what? I didn't see any baggage with you."

"No, it's in a sea-bag in the trunk of your wife's car." She saw his raised eyebrows and said, "What? You don't expect me to believe that you're the kind of man that would let his pregnant wife carry her own bags!"

Harm felt his face creasing into a reluctant grin, "No... You're right, I wouldn't. Alright, I'll go get it. You'd best use the second bedroom, that's upstairs and the second door on the left. It has its own shower room, so you'll have all the privacy you need. And if we're going to play house, then while you're changing, I'll start dinner."

Jackson stopped and raised her eyes to his, "Do you normally do the cooking?" she asked in mild surprise.

"On any five days out of the seven, yeah, why?"

"As long as it's routine. So what does your wife do while you're cooking?"

"Well sometimes she tries to steal bits of the raw ingredients, sometimes she just sits and watches me, or just takes a rest, or if Loren visits, which she does three or four times a week, then they'll sit in the lounge with Sasha and talk about whatever women talk about."

"That's a bit sexist, Commander!" Jackson reproved him

"No, it's not!" Harm denied, "I don't have a clue what they talk about, but I can hear their voices, and if I walk into the lounge they stop talking look at me and then half the time they burst into a giggle-fit!"

"OK, I'll let you slide on that!" Jackson smiled, and then became serious again, "You say it isn't unusual for Lieutenant Rabb to visit with you. How does that happen, does she just walk in, or does she call, or..."

"Normally she walks up to the kitchen door, knocks on it, sticks her head in, calls out to let us know she's here and waits for us to call her in."

Jackson nodded, "Then that's what will happen this evening. Having two agents in the house with you gives us better odds. Which reminds me, do you have a weapon?"

"Yeah, it's in the lock box in my study."

"What is it, and do you know how to use it?"

"Browning Hi-Power, with about one hundred rounds, and yeah, if push comes to shove this won't be the first gun battle I've been in!"

"I thought you were a lawyer?"

"I am, but I'm also a Naval Aviator, a combat veteran and a Naval Officer."

"OK, but try not to shoot any of us, alright?"

"If any of you turn out to be like Agents Novak or Kubrick then it'll be hard resisting temptation, otherwise I'll do my best to aim at the bad guys!"

Jackson stopped again as she reached the foot of the stairs and grinned again, "Well, like I said, we have your file, and we've made sure that neither Novak nor Kubrick are on this team! I'll give Agent Mitchell a call, so you can expect to hear her at the kitchen door in a few minutes!"

By the time Agent Jackson had changed into a pair of maternity slacks and a smock, Harm had started cooking dinner for three, watched by the blonde Agent Mitchell, who had changed out of Loren's uniform and was now wearing a cotton blouse in Loren's favourite pale blue and a black, knee length skirt.

"Hey, you two, what you got cooking? Smells real good!" Jackson enthused.

"Stir fried vegetables, with plain, steamed rice," Harm told her. "The rice is just about done, and as soon as it is, I'll be ready to serve the stir fry. If one of you wants to make yourself useful, there are plates in that cabinet, there," he indicated with his chin, "silverware in that drawer, and there's a selection of soft drinks in the 'fridge."

The two agents bustled about for a couple of minutes, swiftly setting three places at the breakfast bar and in response to Harm's quizzical look, Mitchell shrugged, "Hey we're here almost on sufferance, so we're not going to presume on your family space. You're not required to feed us, but we're very grateful that you are. Now, I'm going to presume that you have a cooks don't wash up rule, so we'll do that as some sort of payment for the dinner."

"What do you and... Jennifer, isn't it? What do you do in the evenings before you hit the hay?" Jackson asked.

"Well, we sit and talk, or we sometimes play cards or a word game, maybe watch a movie on DVD, then there's uniforms to prepare for the morning...I take it you'll be borrowing Lieutenant Rabb's uniforms?" he asked Mitchell, "and you'll be borrowing Jen's?" he looked at Jackson.

She grimaced, "Yeah, and I can tell that's something else you're not too happy about!"

"No, I'm not," Harm answered mildly enough, as he started dishing up the food, "but I'm trying to remember that it's all helping to protect two women and a baby who are very dear to me!"

Mitchell nodded, "We do try to keep that in mind too, so we will try and keep our intrusion into your life to a minimum, but there is inevitably going to be some impact!"

Harm nodded again, as he took his seat, "Now in the morning the baby sitter will arrive at zero seven thirty, to take over the care of Sasha - Lieutenant Rabb's daughter - from what I understand, she will be fully briefed as to what's going on and will be offered the chance to back out, in which case she will be replaced by another agent. But in any case there will be an agent in place in the ranch house at all times. Do I have that correctly?"

The two agents exchanged glances, "Well, she won't be fully briefed, just apprised of some slight degree of danger, but otherwise, yeah, you've got it down pretty well pat," Mitchell answered.

Harm nodded, "OK, jut so long as she is aware. Now that we're in summer, the uniform of the day is whites, which, you will discover are a bi... are hell to keep clean. So we've developed the habit of taking one set each to the cleaner's each day. Up until today, we have used two cars; Jen's duty station is at the Pentagon, while mine and Loren's is at Falls Church. Using the pretext of Jen being TAD back to JAG, we will only be using the Lexus tomorrow, and for the foreseeable future. It's not armoured, but it is pretty well heavy enough to bulldoze anything smaller out of the way if need be. Got that?"

"Yeah, we got it," Mitchell answered, while Jackson nodded her head in agreement.

"OK, so we need to be ready to roll by just after zero seven thirty in the morning. Usual practice is for Loren to hand off Sasha to the sitter, then come straight up the path across the yard to the kitchen and then we head straight out." He looked at the two FBI women, "Anything, from either of you?"

"Yeah," Jackson smiled, hefting a forkful of stir-fry, "this is damn good!"

After dinner the two FBI agents settled down to play cards while Harm grew more agitated as the hands of the clock crept towards eight o'clock. Jackson and Mitchell said nothing, but exchanged meaningful glances as he paced around the room, adjusting the placement of photographs, straightening books on the shelves and eventually wearing on the nerves of the two women. At last, he abandoned any pretence at doing anything, and threw himself into a chair, muttering a "For God's sake!" as the minute hand moved past the hour.

Jackson threw her cards on to the table, "Look, Commander, I know you're anxious, but this isn't doing you any good. You need to..."

She was interrupting by shrill chirp of Harm's cell 'phone and he practically threw himself the length of the room to grab it up from the book case on which he had left it.

"Jen?"

"_Yes, Harm, it's me. We're all safe and sound_!"

"Oh, thank God! Where are you?"

"_I don't know. Someplace safe, warm, dry and comfortable. Loren and Sasha are with me, so is Webb. He's gotten me a change of clothes and has arranged for more. There are guards here, outside, and it looks like Webb is staying with us too._"

"OK, why were you late calling?"

"_We've only just got here. We stayed at an apartment in somewhere in DC until it got dark enough to travel safely."_

"OK. How are you..."

"_Harm, I've got to go... Webb's giving me the cut-out signal. I'll call you again tomorrow. I love you._"

"I love you too, Jen!"

The phone went dead in his hand and for an instant it looked as if he might throw it against the wall, but he just tossed it onto the coffee table and sat with his feet apart, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He wasn't sure how long he sat like that, his brain seething in turmoil, but he was eventually disturbed by Jackson, who shook his shoulder and said, "Here, drink this. It looks as if you need it!" and handed him a mug of fresh-brewed coffee.

"Thanks," he muttered, but made no real effort to drink it, just placing it on the table next to his cell 'phone.

"Look, Commander. We've done enough of these jobs to get an inkling of how you feel." Mitchell said, "And tearing yourself apart over something over which you have no control isn't going to help."

"That's the problem, or part of it," Harm confessed. "I'm not used to sitting about and waiting, it's normally me that's out there looking for the bad guys."

Mitchell and Jackson both looked a little concerned at that, but both nodded in a show of understanding, "OK, we get that. But this time the best thing you can do is to do nothing. We've got a top team trying to find Kozlovsky, and we've got another good team coming in here - they should be here any minute. That'll give us six guns, seven, including yours. So in a way I kinda hope Kozlovsky does make a try for one of us."

Harm's head shot up at that, "You'd best hope that doesn't happen. If Kozlovsky comes he'll be loaded for bear. We know he's got M4 assault rifles, and we think he may have gotten his hands on some P9s as well."

Jackson looked at Mitchell with a wry grin. "It would have been nice if Fornell had told us that!" she commented. "Or would it have been nice if your people had told Fornell?" she asked Harm pointedly.

Harm could only nod. He had no idea whether or not Fornell had been given that piece of information, but he couldn't imagine the Admiral, with his SeAL background, leaving out such a vital piece of intel.

Mitchell interrupted her colleague, "Look we can play the blame game later if it becomes necessary, in the meantime, where the hell are the night shift?"

Jackson looked troubled, "Yeah, it's only near on twenty past. They're supposed to be here by half-past. Give 'em a few minutes before we press the panic button, OK?"

"Well, technically they're supposed to be on duty at half-past, they're not giving themselves much time for a briefing!"

As if in answer to her impatience a soft knock was heard at the kitchen door. Both agents lost their casual attitude and sprung to full alertness. Laying a finger on her lips in the universal sign for silence, Jackson drew her sidearm, indicating that the others should follow suit. All three of them, weapons in hand, then made their way to the kitchen. Jackson signalled to Harm to move to one side of the door so that he could get a clear shot as the door opened if that was what was needed, while Mitchell crouched to the side and Jackson risked a glance through the glass upper half of the door.

"Skinner and Hofmann," she confirmed to Mitchell, but neither agent relaxed as she pulled the door wide open and sprung back, her weapon levelled at the doorway.

Agent Hoffman, a tall, burly individual with a nose that had been badly broken at some stage in the past looked like a linebacker for a professional football team, his hair was so close cropped it looked as if it had been recently shaved and was just growing back in. Skinner was almost as tall as his partner, but was much slimmer, and his hair, while not exactly long, curled over the collar of his suit jacket.

Greetings between the agents were brief and business-like. The only real comment made was by Hoffman to Jackson, "Guzman and Larczeny are waiting for you in the dog run."

Jackson nodded, but then turned to Harm, "Is this too early for Lieutenant Rabb to be going home after dinner?"

"Slightly earlier than usual, but she has left earlier than this on occasion."

"Good enough for me," she said with the hint of a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, Commander." And with a nod of farewell to her colleagues she cut straight across the yard to Loren's home. Harm waited until he saw the lights come on in the ranch house, before he turned to face the men he had already come to think of as his baby sitters. "Gentlemen," he acknowledged them

Hoffman who seemed to be the senior agent, returned the greeting and then said, "Could you give us a quick tour, commander? It will help us decide where we'll be during the night hours."

"Sure, follow me." Harm acquiesced.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Loren eyed the last slice of pizza, but shook her head and groaned, "Jen?"

"No... I'm full, thanks!"

Webb looked at his colleague, a tall, slender African American woman in her early thirties, whom he had introduced only as Gloria.

"I don't want it; you go ahead and finish it. It was your idea," he said somewhat bitterly.

"The problem with you, Webb, is that you don't appreciate good food!"

"The problem with you Gloria," the peeved spy shot back, "is that you wouldn't recognise good food if it jumped up and bit you on your ass!" He had left the procurement of dinner to his colleague and to his disgust she had turned up with two large pizzas and four bowls of salad. To add to his disgust it turned out that Gloria, like Harm, was a vegetarian and her choice of toppings reflected her dietary preference.

"Hey," she had said with a shrug, when Webb had complained, "I didn't know if any of you were vegetarians, but I figured that even if you weren't, carnivores would eat vegetables, while vegetarians won't touch meat. And again even if you were carnivores, a healthy meal wouldn't come amiss!"

"Since when has pizza been a healthy meal?" Webb snarled.

"Well Roast Vegetables is healthier option than a Meat Lover's Feast!" Gloria had retorted.

But despite his grumbles, both Jen and Loren noticed that Webb ate at least his fair share of the meal.

The meal over and the debris consigned to the trash can, Webb turned to the two Rabb women. "A few rules: you don't need to know where you are, suffice it to say you are at an establishment owned by the agency. It is a secure facility with controlled access and the boundary fence is electrified and set with alarms. This bungalow will be your place of safety for as long as you are here. There will always be at least one agent with you at all times. You are at liberty to leave the house and take some exercise in the form of walking. Stay on the paths, and do not speak to anyone you might meet. They will neither approach you or permit you to approach them. Gloria has done some shopping on your behalf; I'm sure you saw the bags in the bedroom earlier," he said sarcastically.

"If you need anything else, let the agent with you know, and we'll get hold of whatever it is you need. Note, ladies, need, not what you think might be nice to have. OK?"

Loren and Jen looked at each other and then back at Webb, "Yes, we understand!" Loren said, "Now if there's anything else, I'm going to see to Sasha and get her settled if I can!"

"I'll come with you," Jen decided, levering herself out of her chair.

Webb watched them go into the bedroom and then turned to Gloria. "Make sure the house is secure, and you stay with 'em. I've got something I need to do." With that enigmatic sentence he slipped out of the house and climbed into the Expedition, started the engine, and without turning on the lights, he drove slowly back towards the main gates.

Braking to a gentle halt, he pressed the switch on his microphone, "Lee, this is Webb. Are they still there?"

"_Yeah, but backed off a bit, now they're about a quarter mile from the turn-off_." He heard a quiet voice in his ear-piece.

"Everybody in position?"

"_Yeah. All set, just waiting for you to finish having tea with the ladies,_" came the faintly mocking reply.

Webb bit down on his irritation. He had noticed recently that he had developed a tendency to lose his temper for trivial reasons. He could only try to control it better and hope that it wasn't a sign that he was beginning to lose his edge.

"Right, I'm exiting the gates now, running dark. Meet me at the turn off, we'll go on foot from there."

"_Roger."_

It took a few minutes before Webb reached the junction of track and road where he was met by Agent Lee, who handed him an M4 Carbine and three magazines. Grimacing at the necessity, Webb slipped two of the magazines into his jacket pockets and loaded the weapon with the third. "Alright, lock and load," he whispered, suiting his actions to his words.

From the darkness around him came a dry, metallic rattle as other agents hidden in the shadows of the trees obeyed the order. After a few seconds of silence, Webb drew a breath, "Alright, move out!"

Three shadowy figures, with Agent Lee in the lead, dashed at intervals across the road to be swallowed up by the shadows cast by the trees, while Webb turned to the two agents left with him and whispered, "Let's go."

At a cautious trot the six agents closed on the target vehicle, stopping about twenty yards short. Webb signalled his two men to pass him. One stopped just about level with the car, while the other moved a further twenty yards past it.

Once again Webb whispered into his lapel mic, "Mobile One, go! Mobile Two, go!"

With a roar of engines and in a blaze of light two black Expeditions closed in on the blue Malibu, one from behind it, one from in front of it, both slewed cross the road blocking its escape either forward or in reverse.

The Malibu's engine started as the occupants realised that they had been detected, but the driver had reacted too slowly and their escape was blocked by the much more solid SUVs. The Malibu's doors burst open and three men dived out and started to run for the shelter of the trees. Webb heard Lee shout "Halt - Federal Agent!"

The answer to Lee's challenge was a burst of automatic fire to which Lee and his two agents instantly responded. Webb dashed across the road, behind the Expedition, in time to see a fugitive with some sort of handgun running towards him.

Webb dropped to one knee and shouted, as Lee had, "Halt - Federal Agent!"

Again the only answer was a burst of automatic fire, and Webb instinctively flinched as the rounds cracked above his head. Flicking the safety off on the M4, Webb fired an answering burst, aiming low, hoping to shoot the man's legs from under him and so take him alive. But just s he squeezed the trigger the target either fell, or dived for cover, bringing him directly into Webb's sight picture. The CIA agent instantly released the trigger as the other man slumped to the ground.

With his M4 still aimed at the now prone figure Webb cautiously approached, and as he stood over the man, kicked his weapon out of reach. There was no need to check for signs of life. One of Webb's half a dozen rounds had hit the man in the top of the head as he was falling and the powerful bullet had shattered open the back of his skull.

Trembling still with adrenalin shock, Webb licked his lips, and spoke into his lapel mic, "Webb here, everybody OK?"

Agent Lee replied instantly, "No! Agent down! We need medical assist now!"

Hard on the heels of his words the door to the rearward SUV flew open and two figures rushed towards Lee's position, now made obvious by his torch which he used as a beacon.

"Targets?" Webb snapped

"Two down, here." Lee reported back, "neither of 'em in any shape to talk now, or ever. One ran east towards the front of the ambush."

"Yeah, got him, he won't be doing any talking either. Damn!" Webb cursed; he'd really wanted at least one of the former occupants of the Malibu alive and talking.

Shaking his head in disgust, he bent down and hooking a finger through the trigger guard he picked up the dead man's weapon and pursed his lips in surprise, an Austrian made Steyr TMP. Webb engaged the safety on the weapon, and using a handkerchief taken from his pocket; he released the magazine, and then worked the cocking handle to clear the weapon.

"I need evidence bags over here!" he shouted, waving his arm to attract attention. Once the bags had been produced by a junior agent, Webb walked up the road towards Lee's position. Lee stood by a worried expression on his face as two medics worked on the unconscious Agent.

"Who is it, and how's he doing?" Webb demanded.

""Mercier," Agent Lee said sharply, and looked at Webb, "A good kid, and a good agent!"

"Not good," the senior of the two medics replied, "Two hits to the centre of mass. He's lost a lot of blood. Probably bleeding internally, and I suspect he's got a collapsed lung. We'll know more when we get him to the farm. The ambulance is already on its way."

Webb nodded, "Good. Who's the on-call doctor tonight?"

"Doctor Bowen, we've had her and Doctor Redfern, the anaesthetist paged, so there shouldn't be too much delay. We've got him as stable as we can, so now it's up to them!"

"Good work." Webb acknowledged, and then turned to Lee, "Walk with me!"

He led the junior agent away from the others and then hissed, "What the fuck happened? This was supposed to be a quiet operation, not a re-run of the OK Corral!"

Lee bit back an angry retort. He had disagreed with Webb's plan right from its inception. He had been in favour of a silent approach, a quick yank to open the doors of the Malibu without giving the occupants time to resist. It had been Webb who had insisted on using the SUVs as road blocks, and it had been them roaring onto the scene that had spooked the guys in the Malibu.

"As soon as the SUVs appeared they tried to drive out, when they couldn't they abandoned the car and fled. As soon as I challenged they started shooting, we returned fire. What did you expect us to do, stand there like cut-out targets?" Despite his best intentions he couldn't keep the edge of his anger from sounding in his voice.

Webb snorted in disgust, and removing the magazine from his M4 he worked the action to clear the breech and then thrust weapon, magazines and the ejected round at Lee. "As soon as Mercier is out of here get your men to clean up all the brass they can find. I want all weapons tagged and bagged and at forensics before daylight. I want an initial report on my desk by oh eight hundred hours. You know what to look for, prints, biometrics, and all the rest, and I want a full run down on that Malibu. It's a recent model, so it might well be a rental. Get it checked."

"Got it!" Lee said shortly, "Anything else... sir?"

The delay in adding the honorific was just long enough to let Webb know that the other agent was seriously pissed off. But Webb just shrugged his shoulders, and stepped into Lee's personal space. "I don't care what you think, Agent Lee, you've got your orders, now carry them out!"

Lee stared into Webb's face for a long minute before he turned, in no way intimidated and started barking orders at the three agents still standing.

Webb turned away, content that he had imposed his will on the other man and strode briskly back to the junction of track and road and his parked expedition.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

A J Chegwidden looked up at the knock on his office door, "Enter!" he called.

The door opened to admit FBI Agent Tobias Fornell. Chegwidden rose to his feet, although they had only met twice before for short periods, he liked the FBI agent's demeanour and his world weary air of cynical tolerance in regard of the rest humanity, until they crossed his line in the san.

"Good morning Agent Fornell," he said as he came around the side of his desk, his hand held out in greeting.

"Good morning, Admiral. Well, I hope it is. Firstly I understand none of your people were hurt last night..."

"What do you mean?" Chegwidden interrupted, "None of my people hurt! What the hell?"

"Ah..." Fornell looked uncomfortable for a moment, "I may have said too much if you haven't had the report yet." He gathered his thoughts, "In brief, Webb and a half dozen other agents were involved in a fire fight near the hidden facility to which they had taken the Rabb women. They suffered one casualty who is, I understand, being taken care of in a classified facility, but unfortunately they were compelled to shoot and kill all the suspects."

"Damn it!" How did these people get so close?"

"It is my understanding that they tailed Webb." Fornell replied, "But don't quote me on that!"

"Webb! I should have known that incompetent son of a bitch would screw the pooch!"

"Don't quote me on this either, Admiral, but I doubt that incompetence had any part of Webb being tailed. The execution of the attempted arrest however is a different matter."

"Not incompetence?" Chegwidden's eyes nearly popped from their sockets as his face empurpled and a vein started to throb on his right temple. "If that son of a bitch deliberately let himself be tailed and put the Rabb women in danger I'll kill him myself! No, I won't," he instantly changed his mind, "I'll let Rabb have him!"

"Would Rabb enjoy that as much as you would, Admiral?" Fornell asked dryly.

"Damn right he would!" Chegwidden said emphatically, "Webb has nearly got Rabb and his partner killed on at least a couple of occasions... In fact I broke his nose for him on one of those occasions - that's classified, and need not leave this office!" he added hastily, "So, yes, I think Rabb would relish the chance to pound on him some!" He calmed down slightly after his outburst, and although still breathing heavily and still red-faced, he invited Fornell to continue, "You said 'firstly', so I assume you have other news?"

Fornell nodded, his face creasing in one of his rare grins, "I do... We've spent the last two days searching for the eldest James daughter. She wasn't in any of those photographs and that gave us hope she was away from home when her mother and her sisters were snatched."

"We tracked her down a little earlier this morning, "She's a student at Columbia University, and has been away for three weeks on a field trip. She's in our custody now, and is being flown back from a dig in Wyoming."

"Wyoming?" Chegwidden asked in surprise.

"Yeah, apparently she's a palaeontology student. She was totally unaware of what's been happening back home, didn't even know that he father had been arrested and that her mother and sisters were missing."

Chegwidden winced, "Poor kid, does she know..."

"Yeah, our agents had to tell her in order to persuade her to go with them. No details of course, just that her youngest sister had been murdered."

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Webb sat in his office in the CIA Headquarters building at Langley studying Lee's initial report. The Malibu had been rented at JFK ten days ago for two weeks by an Alexei Dvornikov, a Russian citizen according to his diver licence and passport, the former of which had been recovered from the body of one of the men shot by Lee's agents. The rental had been paid cash. The other two men carried no identification, but they had all been well armed, between them they'd had a Steyr TMP, a Mini-Uzi, a Beretta MX4 and a StarZ84, all modern fast firing sub machine guns, and each had carried a back up hand-gun, two Glock 17s and a Beretta 92F, all 9mm calibre weapons But what was more interesting was the US Army ammunition box in the trunk of the Malibu that had contained 500 rounds of 9mm ammunition, less what was loaded into the various weapons. The box was new and the ammunition cartons all carried the same batch number. The manufacturer was in the process of being contacted to find out to whom the ammunition had been sold.

Hopefully, Webb thought, that would at last give them a lead to either Kozlovsky himself or to another one of his confederates or dupes. For a moment he considered calling the FBI DC Field Office and passing that information on to Fornell, but only for an instant.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxx-xxxxx**

"Da, da. Spasebo! Dosvedanya!" Kozlovsky put the 'phone down with a smirk and turned to his lieutenant, "It is useful to have contact in CIA!" he exclaimed in heavily accented English, "Especially contact who remembers how much help he was given against Soviet tyranny in Afghanistan. It is also philosophically pleasing to help pit former allies at each other's throats!"


	55. A Slap in the Face

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter ****55  
>A Slap in the Face<strong>

Kozlovsky looked at his companion and laughed out loud. "How stupid these Americans are! They think that they can stop me because they have stupid Marine in jail. When I want him dead, he is dead! There are plenty more sand on beach!"

The one-eyed man felt nothing but disgust for the Russian gangster but kept his face impassive as he looked at him and fortunately before he had to formulate an answer Kozlovsky's 'phone chirped again.

"Hallo. Da!" The corrupt arms dealer's face darkened for a moment then cleared and a broad grin spread across his features. "Da!" he said one final time before he closed the 'phone.

Taking a mouthful of the clear liquid in his glass, he breathed heavily through his nose for a moment and gathered his breath.

"Bad news?" the one eyed man asked in what he hoped was a sympathetic tone.

"Nyet!" Kozlovsky shrugged his shoulders, "Bessenov himself and his men are killed, but is no matter. For CIA to have killed them only shows they have something to protect, and now we know where they protect it. They can run, but they cannot hide! When I want, I shall kill them all – slowly, so they learn is useless to try stop me! Now, my friend, come, eat!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm had spent a restless night, and he knew without having to think about it that he physically missed Jen's presence in bed with him. He had experienced much the same a few days ago when he had inadvertently kept her awake while wrestling with the dilemma posed him by the James case, but now it was even worse, he blamed her absence fairly and squarely on himself; he if he hadn't been so obdurate, then he wouldn't have made himself and his family a potential target for a bunch of homicidal thugs. So it was with a heavy heart and a guilty conscience he went through the motions of getting ready for duty, barely exchanging nods of recognition with the two agents who had guarded his sleep, the one on a dining chair in the window alcove above the front door, the other at the kitchen table.

The one almost bright spot to the morning was that Agents Mitchell and Jackson were both up, ready for the roles in their borrowed uniforms, and waiting for him in the kitchen with a fresh-brewed pot of coffee.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Gloria button-holed Webb while Jen and Loren were attending to Sasha's morning needs. The noise of the gun fight had carried quite clearly the short distance between the road and the safe house and both women had wanted to jump on Webb the second he'd returned, the knees of his suit grass stained and a discontented expression on his face, but had been persuaded by Gloria to let her handle him on this occasion.

He had been resolutely uncommunicative, and had stone-walled Gloria, and had than slipped out of the refuge in the early hours, and had delayed his return until nearly zero nine hundred, to be greeted by three flatly suspicious and unfriendly female stares.

Gloria glanced briefly at Loren and Jen, "Would you give us the room, please?" she asked them.

The two Rabb women glanced at each other, and then each took a longer, measuring look at Gloria, "OK," Loren said slowly, "Just as long as you don't keep us in the dark. We," she indicated Jen, to include her, "have both had more than enough of being treated like mushrooms!"

Now, with Jen and Loren busy with bathing and drying Sasha in the bathroom, Gloria had had enough and stepping into Webb's personal space she literally backed him into a corner of the lounge.

With her arms crossed in front of her and a determined jut of her chin she pressed him for answers. "So... what happened last night?" she asked Webb.

"Need to know!" the spook snapped in an almost reflexive response.

"That's bullshit, Webb, and you know it," the African-American woman snorted, "If it affects the safety of those three in there – and mine if it comes to that, then I, and probably them, most definitely have a need to know!"

Webb gave an exasperated sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. "Alright!" he snapped, "this place maybe has been compromised. Security spotted a car parked up near the turn-off with three occupants in it. When we approached to question them, they opened fire. We returned fire, and unfortunately all three were shot dead. They each had a cell 'phone – all burn phones, naturally – and we can't be certain that they haven't told anyone else of this location. So..." he drew a deep breath, "We're going to be on the move again. I'm just waiting for a call to let me know that the arrangements have been made!"

Gloria looked at him critically, there was a certain lack of Webb's usual urbanity that was evident to the African American agent, and she flattered herself that she would have picked up on his uneasiness, even without having attended the FBI's profiling classes at Quantico.

"There's something you're not telling me, Webb," she persisted, "How did those guys know where to find us?"

Webb shrugged in attempt at regaining his customary insouciance, "Who knows? Maybe this place isn't as secret as we thought? Maybe they made a lucky guess? Maybe they had their own sources of intel?"

Gloria just looked at him disgusted by his assumption of patently false innocence and ignorance, "You're still holding out on me, Webb, and when I find out what you're hiding, and if it has anything to do with putting those three in danger, then I am most definitely going to whup your ass!"

The spook sighed, "OK... there's a chance - only a slight one - that we may have been followed. so I'm getting a chopper for our next move, OK? It should be here in about three quarters of an hour."

Gloria gave him a flat look, her eyes like chips of obsidian, "You were followed, and you didn't pick it up? What about your back up, why didn't... Oh. for God's sake! You didn't have any back-up did, you? Un fucking believable! Webb, you have just set a new standard in incompetence!" With a final snort of disgust the African American woman turned on her heel and headed back towards the bedroom shared by Jen and Loren.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Tobias Fornell was making his second visit of the day to JAG HQ. But this time he came armed with fresh information. Entering the Yeoman's outer office he asked, "Is the Admiral free?"

The previous day's meeting of representatives from various Federal agencies and the subsequent appearance of two 'Navy' personnel to be sequestered had been sufficient to alert Tiner that something out of the ordinary was underway, and that I involved the Commander and his family, but that was as far as his knowledge went but when one of the agencies involved sent to the same, senior, representative back to JAG on his third visit in less than twenty four hours, the the Yeoman was astute enough not play games.

"One moment, Agent," he pressed the call button on the office intercom, "Admiral, sir, Agent Fornell of the FBI would like a few moments of your time..."

"_Send him in Tiner_!"

A J Chegwidden watched as the FBI Agent crossed the carpet toward him, and even before greetings were exchanged the Admiral waved his visitor to a chair, and waited patiently for his visitor to speak. Fornell hid a smile, he was familiar with tactic, one that was frequently used in interrogating a suspect. Let the silence build until the need to break it grew to such an extent that the subject was glad to talk, but this case was too important to play games, and reaching into his inside breast pocket, Fornell drew out a small, black bound notebook.

"We ran facial recognition on the the three dead men from this morning, and we came up trumps on all three. The one who rented the Malibu used a fake Russian Passport, ID and Driver Licence under the name of Dvornikov, turned out his real name is Mikhail Alexeivitch Preobrazhensky. The other two turned out to be Pyotr Goncharov and Feodor Mikhailovitch Lukov. All three are very well known to the Russian authorities, and Goncharov and Preobrazhenskyboth have outstanding Interpol warrants against them. Now we have both names and aliases I've got my team checking all flights from Europe for the last six months." Fornell grimaced and shrugged his shoulders, "That's a lot of flights, and a lot of names, so even with computerised search, it's going to take a few hours. I've also got others of my team running facial recognition software on security tapes from Dulles, Ronald Regan and BWI. "I know, I know," Fornell held up his hands to strop Chegwidden's protest, "that is a long, long, shot. He could have landed anywhere; hell, he could even have landed on the West Coast and travelled by train or car, but we're hoping that we'll come up with a shot of Kozlovsky arriving, and if so, by tracing his alias, we might be able to track him down and nail him before he commits any further crimes – but I'm not holding my breath," he admitted.

Chegwidden sucked his teeth, but nodded in appreciation of the fresh intelligence the FBI Agent had just divulged. He leaned back in his chair and managed a wry grin, "I'm finding your willingness to share information a refreshing change from Webb's constant refrain of 'classified' and 'need to know' bullshit," he confided.

"The Company's paranoia is well known, Admiral," Fornell managed a wry deprecating grin as he replied, "And probably well merited, when you consider that they are not supposed to be operating on US soil."

"That may be," Chegwidden grunted, his voice clearly expressing his disapproval of the CIA's methods, "but the law is the law, and no individual nor agency is above that!"

"That's true enough, Admiral," The FBI Agent replied, "but you and I both know that once in a while they do, in the interest of national security, operate within the US, and it's about time that the folk on Capitol Hill started to realise that in the modern world and our war against drugs, that the conventions of yesteryear don't always remain fit for purpose."

Although Chegwidden agreed with Fornell, his position prohibited him from saying so, and had to content himself with a wry, "You might think so, but I couldn't possibly comment!"

Fornell nodded understandingly before he continued, "Even so, I don't like the idea of Webb being involved in this. Considering it was an FBI, NCIS and ATF operation, just how the hell did the CIA get involved anyway?"

"You didn't invite them?" Chegwidden asked in some surprise.

"Hell, no!" Fornell said emphatically, "Didn't you?"

"Me? Invite Webb? I don't think so! That man has got more FUBARs to his credit than anyone I know! I can only guess the CIA were brought in because they had the most intel on Kozlovsky!"

"Yeah, that's true enough about Webb, and you may be right about the intel aspect..." Fornell conceded as he stood and buttoned his overcoat, "but even if you are right, I still can't figure out why the CIA detailed Webb for the case...Well, I'd best be getting back to my own hidey-hole, maybe one of my people has caught something from the airline records. Admiral." He nodded a casual farewell to Chegwidden and turning on his heel walked equally casually out of the JAG's office. Chegwidden sat in silence, watching him go, a thoughtful expression on his face.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Gloria sighed apologetically at Jen and Loren, "I'm sorry ladies, but we're going to be on the move again, that gunfire we heard near here last night might indicate the possibility of this place being compromised, so just to make sure you're going to be perfectly safe, we're going deeper into cover. So if you'll re-pack your bags, please... I know, I know... you've only just got settled. But the chopper will be here in just under half an hour."

"Chopper?" Loren queried from where she sat on the end of one of the twin beds.

"Helicopter," Gloria explained, thinking perhaps that the other two women were unfamiliar with the word.

"I know what a helo is!" Loren retorted with just a slight emphasis on the naval term, "I just wondered why an air move!"

Gloria looked decidedly uncomfortable, and her eyes flitted between Loren and Jen, "Well... uh... there's a slight possibility that your car was followed when you came here..."

"You mean Webb's car?" Jen interjected.

"Uh... yeah, I guess."

"And he didn't detect it?" Loren challenged.

"Um... No... apparently not..."

"What about the back up car, didn't they spot a tail either?" Jen demanded.

"Uh..." Gloria looked desperately at them both. As far as she knew, she was dealing with a lawyer and an office clerk, and she hadn't expected to be put on the spot by a pair of women who seemed to know an unhealthy amount about covert working practices. She had no means of knowing about Harm's past TADs to SeAl teams and Marine Force Recon, or even his past operations with Clayton Webb, or that he had during the course of quiet evenings at Annandale Road been persuaded by two pairs of pleading eyes, one blue and one brown, to entertain the owners of those eyes with some of his history.

Although he had concentrated on the more comedic aspects of his adventures, and had never painted himself in an heroic light, some of the basic elements of covert Ops had been picked up by the his two auditors, and both being blessed with retentive memories, they had stored the information away, just in case that one day – like today – it might come in useful.

At present both those pairs of eyes were turned, accusingly and suspiciously, on the hapless CIA Agent who was beginning to feel she had just blundered into an ambush. Unsure of how to respond to Jen's question, she sought refuge in silence in the hope that the two sailors would let the subject drop.

Jen, however was in no mood to let Webb, or the CIA in genera,l off the hook, cradling her hands protectively over her bump, she glared at Gloria. "He didn't have a back-up vehicle, did he? He was playing Lone Ranger, wasn't he? He deliberately put Loren and myself at risk, just so if things went according to his plan, he would look good!"

"Well... no... it wasn't quite..."

But Jen wasn't listening, "That's acceptable, just!" she declared roundly, "But he also put Sasha at risk, and from my point of view, even worse, he put my baby at risk! And those circumstances are not acceptable! Where is he?"

"Umm... he's in the lounge, but..."

"But nothing!" Jen snapped as she surged to her feet.

"Jen!" Loren protested as Gloria stretched out a hand to stop the angry brunette.

Jen brushed Gloria's hand aside and stormed into the living room, where Webb was whispering into his cell 'phone. He raised an eyebrow at Jen's impetuous irruption, and covering the mouthpiece of his 'phone, he said icily, "Do you mind?"

As far as Jen was concerned, that was the last straw. She covered the few steps between them, and with a roundhouse back-handed swing, she knocked the phone from the startled spook's grasp.

"What the hell...!" he started to exclaim, but got no further as Jen brought her hand round in flat palmed swing to land a stinging slap to his face. So hard did she swing that that Webb was knocked off balance, and with his cheek ablaze and his eyes watering, he staggered back a couple of a steps until the back of his knees came into contact with the couch, and losing his balance completely, he collapsed backwards on to the seat.

"What the..." he began again as he started to get back to his feet.

"Fucking son of a bitch!" Jen raged, "Stay down if you know what's good for you!"

Webb blinked his eyes clear of the tears, and looked up into Jen's face. What he saw there shocked him. He had seen killing rage in the eyes of others before now, but to see it, and so strongly expressed in Jennifer Rabb's face, made his heart suddenly turn cold, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt, that if Jen had had a weapon to hand, she would now be standing triumphantly, and without a soupçon of remorse, over his dead body.

Fortunately for the sake of Webb's health, Loren and Gloria had followed Jen into the room, and the latter gently took Jen by the arm and said quietly but urgently, "Jen... it's alright... he's down, leave it for now, Jen leave it."

Webb looked up at Gloria, as Loren finally persuaded Jen to return to the bedroom, "What the hell was that all about...?"

Gloria looked at him contemptuously, "They just figured out that if they were followed here, it was due to your incompetence, or carelessness, or even worse your ego and selfishness."

"What...?"

"It seems they have an inkling of how covert ops are run, or are supposed to be run. They wanted to know why you hadn't spotted the tail, or if you hadn't then why the back-up vehicle hadn't spotted it. Then they realised that you didn't have a back-up, and Mrs Rabb lost it."

"Yeah, but, I don't understand...?" he gently rubbed his still-stinging cheek, where Jen's hand-print was marked in vivid red.

Gloria snorted in disdain, "She's carrying a child, in case you hadn't noticed, and pregnant women get very, very protective about their unborn babies. Oh, and talking of being protective, I have a feeling that you need to pray that she doesn't mention this incident to her husband. I get the feeling that he's not too fond of you as it is!"

Webb continued to stare up at Gloria, but now the blood had drained from his face leaving the outline of Jen's hand even more marked, as he contemplated what Rabb's reaction might be to the news that he had put the two women, the baby and Jen's pregnancy at risk.

In the bedroom a shivering Jen slumped onto one the beds, as Loren knelt worriedly in front of her, "Jen, what in the world...? Are you OK?"

"I... I think... I... I...I've sprained my wrist..." Jen half sniffled, halfway between tears and hysterical laughter.

"Let's have a look..." Loren suggested, and gently took Jen's hand in hers, "H'mm... It is a bit swollen, but a support bandage should take care of it, unless... can you move your fingers?"

Jen slowly, and not without a wince of pain, waggled her fingers.

"OK, I don't think it's broken, but that was one hell of a hit you landed on him!"

"Oh... I was so mad!" Jen admitted, her shuddering diminishing as the adrenalin rush passed its peak.

"Oh, really?" Loren grinned, "I guess it's a good thing my sidearm wasn't in reach!"

"Oh damn!" Jen giggled, "I was so mad that I clean forgot about it! A good thing, I suppose! If I had remembered it, I probably would have used it!"

"Used what?" Gloria asked. Entering the room, she had overheard Jen's last words.

"My sidearm!" Loren said grimly

"You're armed?" Gloria said in surprise

"Damn straight!" Loren agreed, "and if I'd been able to get to Jen's sidearm at home, we'd both be armed."

Gloria winced as she rapidly considered what might have happened in the living room if Jen had had her weapon. But the fact that Loren was armed was disturbing enough, "What sort of lawyer are you?" she demanded of Loren.

"A naval officer lawyer!" Loren replied proudly, "and one that comes from a feuding family!"

"Feuding?" Jen exclaimed, momentarily diverted.

"Yes!" Loren looked at Jen in surprise, "Didn't Grams tell you about the Rabb-Johnson feud?"

"No... no she didn't!" Jen said in aggrieved tones, "How come you know about that?"

"Oh, we talked about it the night she took her shotgun to that egg-stealing coon!"

"Oh... the night she invited..."

"Yeah, that night!"

Jen nodded, satisfied, "OK, I'll get the story out of her the next time we visit!" and turned to look at Gloria.

Gloria had been half alarmed and half amused at Loren's revelations, and shook her head. There was obviously much more to these two women than she had at first thought, but she didn't like the idea of there being weapon of which she was unaware being involved in the scenario. "It might be best if you handed it over to me, Lieutenant," she suggested.

"Not a chance! Loren snapped, "You can take my weapon when you prise it out of my cold, dead, hand, and not an instant before!"

Gloria groaned, "Bumper sticker redneck! Surely you're not..."

"No of course, I'm not." Loren said placidly, "But I don't intend to give up my weapon!"

"Well, can you at least use it?"

"Qualified 'Expert' on my last range day!" Loren said proudly.

"When and where was that?" Gloria asked.

"Indoor range at Eighth and I, six weeks ago!"

"H'mm, OK..." Gloria acknowledged, but thought 'there's a hell of a difference between shooting at a paper target and live target, especially if that target is shooting back!'

"Well, OK, keep hold of it for the time being. If the excreta impacts the air conditioning an extra weapon might come in handy."

Jen interrupted, "I... uh... I don't suppose you could see your way clear to letting me..."

Gloria visibly winced, "Uh... no, I don't think so... Webb might be a piss poor example of a CIA agent, but if you were to shoot him..." she sighed, "Although it might be mightily satisfying, just think of the paperwork I'd have to complete!"

"Oh... if it means extra paperwork for you, then I'll let him slide... this time. Where is he, anyway?"

"He's... uh... he's gone to Langley. Said something about checking some intel. But I think he's giving you some time and space to cool down!"

"Oh, he's run away?"

"Um... well... uh... yeah" Gloria confessed. And once again the three women went off into a peal of laughter, which was speedily terminated as Sasha registered her disapproval of such behaviour while she was trying to sleep.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Yes, Tiner?" A J Chegwidden growled in answer to the intercom's buzz.

"_Commander Saunders from Pearl, on line two, sir,_" Tiner replied.

"Commander?" The JAG queried.

"_Good afternoon, sir. Just an update on the situation, sir_."

"Go ahead..."!

"_NCIS Agent Uchida interviewed Seaman Garcia in my presence, and Garcia admitted sabotaging Commander Turner's ride. Initially he came up with some fairy tale in which he stated that he'd done it, because he didn't like black officers, because he didn't think that blacks ought to be officers.._."

"He's racist?" the admiral exclaimed in disbelief.

Saunders allowed herself a brief chuckle, "_That was more or less my reaction, sir. Well... mine and Uchida's, so we asked a couple of more questions and Garcia finally crumpled. He tampered with the car because Lieutenant Vukovic blackmailed him into doing it._"

"Did he say what sort of leverage Vukovic had?" Chegwidden demanded.

"_Don't ask, sir_!" Saunders replied, the humour gone from her voice.

"Dammit, Commander! I just did!"

"_No, sir.._." Saunders paused to give her next words added significance, "'_Don't ask_'".

"What? Oh... Right. OK, what happens next?"

"_Well, Garcia's in the brig, facing charges of wilfully damaging government property and possibly attempted murder. But whatever happens, he's due for an ADSEP anyway_..."

"Unless he gets a BCD before that!" Chegwidden grunted.

"_There is that, sir,_" Babs agreed.

"And what about Vukovic?"

"_Uchida has a warrant for his arrest, and is on his way to serve it now._"

"Good! I want Vukovic held in the brig – if there's any opposition..."

"_I know sir, he poses risk of witness intimidation, sir._"

"Got it in one, Commander! I intend talking to the SecNav, I want Vukovic back here, maybe we can get him to accept a plea bargain in return for his testifying against Lindsey. So I want Lieutenant Pearson back here as well. Her testimony is needed against both Lyndsey and Vukovic!"

"_Aye, aye, sir! Sir, will you be...?_"

"Yes, I'll cut movement orders today, and have Tiner send them to you either by e-mail or fax. I want all three of you back in here in DC ASAP!"

"_Yes, sir_!"

"And what about Commander Turner?"

"_He's still bed-bound, sir, and getting grumpier by the day, but he should be fit to travel sometime next week_!"

"By the day, eh?"

"_Yes, sir... I'm not much for going out on my own, so I try and get to see him each evening, it gives both of us something to look forward to... sir,_" she replied.

Chegwidden grinned, the cool, calm, collected Commander Saunders sounded just a tad flustered, or even slightly embarrassed.

"Well, keep up the good work Commander, and we'll see you back here with Lieutenant Pearson ASAP, and with Vukovic under escort. I'll be sure to have orders cut for an officer to act as his brig-chaser!"

"_Yes, sir! I won't say I'll be sorry to get back to DC, sir!_"

"Very good, Commander. Good job!"

"_Thank you sir_!"

Chegwidden replaced the 'phone on its hook and scrubbed a hand over the top of his scalp for a moment before he drew a deep breath and toggled the intercom call button, "Tiner?"

"_Sir?"_

"Get me a line to the SecNav!"

"_Aye, aye, sir_!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Tobias Fornell, sunk deep in thought, strolled along the footpath that ran the length of the reflecting, his head was down and his forehead furrowed, until at last, apparently coming to a decision, he stopped, looked around to get his bearings and then headed for a bench a few yards ahead and at the edge of the path.

Sitting, he reached inside his coat and jacket, and pulled out his cell 'phone. Scrolling through his list of contacts, he nodded and grunted in satisfaction as the highlighter bar settled over a number that he hadn't been sure he'd kept. Pressing the call button he waited stoically for the person on the other end to pick up.

"_Hello_?"

"This is Fornell. I could do with an assist..."

The voice on the other end took on a tone of cynically amused resignation, "_What can I do to help, Tobias?_"

"Um... there was a shootout last night near the farm owned by the State Department. I'd like to get my hands on the AAR, the brief accounts I've heard don't tally with my knowledge of the players involved. Who shouldn't have been involved in the first place."

"_Uh-huh... what makes you think that I can help_?"

"That new kid you've got. He's some kind of computer expert, isn't he? I know damn' well that he's hacked our files before, and I'm pretty sure that he's already been into the Company's files..."

"_Hacking your files or the Company's is a Federal Offence, Tobias, I'm shocked that you would even suggest that we could, would do, or have done such a thing_!"

Fornell gave a cynical snort of laughter, "_My bullshitometer has just gone right off the scale! Stop pissing me about, please_!"

"_OK, tell me more about this shootout? Just in case we hear anything about it, of course._"

"Three dead perps, one Company Agent down."

"_Any survivors_?"

"Not on the perps' side."

"_And the lead agent_?"

"Webb," Fornell said flatly.

There was a long pause on the other end the line before the voice said heavily, "_Well that explains the no prisoners. Do you think that was deliberate, or just a consequence of his tendency to generate one clusterfuck after another_?"

"I can't go into that here and now; we'd have to have a secure face to face before I'd be willing to discuss that, but for the moment I'm settling for a FUBAR."

"_OK, Tobias, I'll get back to you._"

"Thanks."

"_Think nothing of it, it's always a pleasure to pull the Fibbies out of the crap_!" and the line went dead before Fornell could respond.

He managed a world-weary grin, if his suspicion was right, the intel he should receive as a result of his clandestine call would be well worth suffering a couple of verbal jabs at the Bureau's expense.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The sound of rotors was clearly heard even over the engine noise as three VH-60N Whitehawk helos settled on the lawns in front of the cottage.

Jen turned to Gloria, "Three helos? And aren't they the same ones that the Marine Corps use to fly the President?"

Gloria too looked slightly surprised, "Uh.. yeah... the same type... dunno if they're the same ones, but they're definitely for us!"

"How can you tell?" a still wide-eyed Jen asked.

"'Cos Webb just jumped out of one, and is headed this way. Grab your bags ladies, oh, and the baby!" she added with a flash of a grin at Loren.

"Thanks for reminding me!" Loren said dryly as she slipped her arms into the breast sling while Jen held Sasha, ready to settle her in her familiar transport. This mode of carrying Sasha had been decided upon by the two Rabb women in the hope that the baby would be less distressed and take comfort from her mother during the new, and noisy experience of the upcoming helicopter ride.

The door flew open to reveal a slightly windblown Webb. He looked at Loren, "You ready to move, Lieutenant?"

"I'm ready," she agreed, picking up the diaper bag, and leaving Jen to grab the temporarily unneeded porta-crib.

"OK, let's go!" Webb shouted, as he looked at Loren and Gloria, but studiously avoided making eye contact with Jen. A fact that the still angry brunette noted and by which she was undismayed. In her own mind, she hadn't finished with the incompetent spook – not by a long chalk!

Once airborne, the mystery of the three helos was solved as they performed a complicated mid-air dance around each other even while maintaining a steady heading, which Jen, taking a reference from the time of day, and the position of the sun decided was almost due west.

"A variation on a theme!" Gloria said to Jen when the brunette remarked on the aerobatics.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, it's generally called the Presidential shell-game! It's supposed to confuse anybody who..."

"Yeah I know the principle behind the shell game!" Jen, the ex con-merchant, grinned.


	56. Tempers Lost

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 56  
>Tempers Lost<strong>

Jen had realised from the way the sun had changed position, relative to that of the helos that the three aircraft were not flying a straight course, but were describing a great counter-clockwise arc, and although she had no means of knowing the speed or exact course, she reckoned by the time they slowed to a hover and then descended, they were not too far, despite the nearly three hours flight time, distant from their starting point.

Most of her attention, and all of Loren's, was centred on Sasha, who, it seemed, had not enjoyed her first helicopter ride, not in the slightest, and was not being shy about voicing her disapproval of that mode of transport. Even Loren's offer of a comforting breast had been turned down in favour of infant wails of discomfort and indignation.

But from the little Jen had seen from the air, their new refuge was to be a a colonial style red-brick mansion house – there was no other word for it – planted in the middle of parkland, and surrounded at a distance of about three quarters of a mile, by a belt of deciduous forest.

The wheels of the helo hit the ground with a faint thump and a slight see-sawing motion as the undercarriage took the weight of the aircraft and within seconds, as if by magic, Sasha's screams of protest faded away and she hiccupped into silence, staring up at Loren's concerned face with wide-open eyes that were still not quite capable of focus. After a moment's hesitation, Loren tried the effect of a smile and was rewarded by Sasha's attempt to grab her nose.

Webb was not the only one to heave a sigh of relief, he had been, more than once, on the verge of snapping out a demand that Loren 'shut that brat up!', and only the stinging reminder of Jen's slap had prevented him from voicing that demand.

But even Loren had become stressed by her daughter's discomfort and she too heaved a silent sigh and turning to Jen murmured, not quite loudly enough for Gloria or Webb to hear, "Thank God that's over!"

Jen paused as she turned to slide out of the door, where Gloria stood ready to lend her a supporting arm, "Oh, yeah..." she replied, and twinkling down at Sasha, added, "Little monster!"

Settling in hadn't taken too long. Gloria showed Jen and Loren to a room containing two single beds and a rather old-fashioned drop side crib. "There's a stack of baby things, diapers, lotions, whatever, in the closet, and a bathroom through that door there.

"There are six agents in the grounds and in the outbuildings, and with the chopper lift and the evasive tactics, everything should be OK now, so we won't have to organise another flit in the morning."

Jen and Loren both managed weak smiles of relief, another helicopter ride with a disgruntled Sasha would have frazzled everybody's nerves.

Gloria grinned back at the two Rabbs, she had a fairly good idea of what was going through their minds, "Here, this might make you feel a bit better," she slid her cell 'phone out of her purse and handed it to Jen, "Call your husband..." she stood, "I'll come back for the 'phone in five minutes, OK? It'll help pass the time until dinner... Oh... and although you're not prisoners, it might help the situation if you stay put until dinner... give Webb time to get over his bruised pride."

Jen and Loren looked at each other and shared a giggle.

"I'll bring lunch up to you, it won't be much, probably just sandwiches and... milk?"

Loren and Jen looked at each other and then Jen looked back at Gloria, "That's great, thanks... and I'm sorry for being such a nuisance to you..."

"But not sorry for smacking Webb upside the head?" Gloria guessed with a twinkle in her eye.

"Nope... that was immensely satisfying!" a wholly unrepentant Jen grinned.

Gloria grinned and shook her head in mock reproof before she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Jen picked up the 'phone and punched in Harm's cell 'phone number, and waited, her heart in her mouth as it rang four times before he picked up.

"Hey, Harm, it's Jen, just to let you know that we're OK, despite the move..."

"_Move? What move_?" Harm yelped, drawing a curious look from Mac

"Oh... we had to move to another location... and we discovered that Sasha doesn't like helos!" Jen chuckled in an attempt to calm Harm down.

"_But you're all OK_?" Harm persisted.

"Harm we're all fine!" Jen assured him, deciding for the moment he didn't need to know about her injured wrist, or how and why it got injured.

"Well, I'm not!"" Harm grumbled

"Why? What's wrong?" Jen demanded breathlessly and with a scared look at Loren.

"_I miss you... and Loren and the baby... and you haven't told me yet that you love me_," Harm finished in a petulant near-whine.

"Oh for God's sake!" Jen said in exasperation, "Yes, I love you! Happy now?"

"_Oh, yes_!" Harm replied happily.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

FBI agents Mitchell and Jackson exchanged questioning looks with each other as Harm pulled the Lexus to a halt outside the Annandale Road address. He had been much more relaxed on the drive home than he had been at any time during the past thirty-some hours. He had even appeared to be cheerful.

He swung out of the car, and under the pretence of stretching his back, he cast a covert but comprehensive look around the neighbourhood checking for any strange vehicles or anything else out of the ordinary, before he was satisfied that all was clear and cocking an inviting eyebrow at the two agents, "Ladies? Shall we?" he asked in exaggeratedly cordial tones.

Half an hour later all three, now in civilian clothes but with their side-arms either on their persons or within arm's length, gathered in the kitchen of the main house. Harm was still in a cheerful mood and eventually Agent Mitchell bit the bullet, "OK, how come you're so cheerful this evening? Yesterday and even up until lunchtime today you were miserable, petulant, unfriendly, uncooperative and..."

"Oh, no... was I really that bad?" Harm asked almost unable to recognise himself from their description, but still with a cheerful expression on his face.

The two women looked at each other for a few seconds, and then as if on some unspoken signal, they swivelled their heads to face him and in chorus said, "Oh, yeah!"

Harm looked at them in bemusement for a few minutes until Mitchell gave up and throwing her hands into the air, she asked, "So, you've been taking happiness pills, or what?"

"No, it's just that Jen called me earlier, and told me they were all OK after the move..." he trailed off and a frown crept over his face as the two agents looked at each other again, but this time in consternation.

"What?" he demanded with growing suspicion.

"Umm..." Mitchell hesitated and shot another look at Jackson, "You're not talking about the move from Falls Church to... to the safe house."

"No, I don't think so..." Harm said, "that was a road move, wasn't it?"

"Uh... yeah, wasn't that the move your Jen was talking about?"

"No!" Harm said emphatically, "she said it was a move by helo – helicopter – and that Sasha, the baby, didn't like it!" He looked at the way in which the two agents were again looking at each other and he began to get agitated, "What's going on?"

Mitchell looked him straight in the eye, "Honestly, commander, we don't know. We haven't heard anything, but..."

"But what!?" he demanded drawing himself up to his full height.

"Well..." Jackson intervened, realising that Harm would not be put off or diverted, "allowing for the difference in SOPs between the Bureau and the Agency, a move like that would normally only be made if the safe location was, or was just thought to be compromised..." she finished unhappily.

"Compromised!" Harm shouted, "How the hell would it be compromised!?"

"We don't know, it could be for any number of reasons. Remember, Commander we are not the same outfit as Agent Webb."

Harm took a deep breath, "No, you're not, and I'm sorry for yelling, but I assure you I have a lot of questions that need answers, and by Christ I fully intend to get those answers tomorrow!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Dinner, Loren reflected as she got ready for bed that evening, had not been the most fun meal she had ever eaten. In fact, she couldn't remember what it was she had eaten, it had all tasted like dust and ashes. Webb had studiously ignored Jen, who had divided her attention between her plate and staring evenly up the table at Webb – that is until their eyes had locked. The tension had risen exponentially, and both Loren and Gloria had heaved a silent sigh of relief, until Jen had smiled sweetly at Web, before 'absent mindedly' giving her swollen wrist a quick and gentle massage, while the other two women exchanged despairing glances, as Webb scowled and dropped his eyes, pretending to concentrate on the contents of his plate.

She finished changing into her sleepwear, a T-shirt and a pair of gym shorts and then sat on the side of he bed and waited for Jen to emerge from the bathroom. Jen duly re-entered the bedroom clad in much the sort of clothing except that she wore jogging bottoms with her T-shirt, and sat down opposite Loren, their knees nearly touching.

Jen held her right hand out to Loren and passed a roll of crepe bandage to her, "Please?" she asked as she indicated both bandage and wrist in one comprehensive look.

"Of course!" Loren smiled, and set to work spiralling the bandage around Jen's wrist, anchoring it with alternate turns around her thumb and back of the hand as she reached them.

Fully occupied as her hands were in bandaging Jen's writs, Loren's tongue was free and she took the opportunity to say, "Isn't it about time it was over, Jen?"

"Time what was over?" Jen asked innocently.

Loren gave a her a look full of exasperation and for a second was tempted to yank the bandage really tight, but managed to fight down that ignoble impulse, "Baiting Webb," she said as she locked her blue eyes onto Jen's brown ones.

"It's not over until it's over!" Jen replied enigmatically but with the light of battle in her eyes

"And when will that be?" Loren demanded waspishly, a trace of pre-maternal Loren surfacing for an instant.

Jen gave her a cool look in return, "When I decide it's over, or when Webb apologises, whichever comes first," she said firmly.

"And if he doesn't?" Loren asked, "Come on Jen," her voice dropped into a cajoling murmur, "How likely is it that Webb, Webb of all people, will apologise?"

"He will if he knows what's good for him!" Jen muttered between her teeth.

Loren looked her just as dispassionately, "Jen, you've already hit him so hard you've sprained your wrist, and I'm going to make damn sure that my Sigma is secured! So what else do you think can do to him?"

"Oh, not me, Loren," Jen said disingenuously, "But I do have a very protective husband."

At Jen's words Loren blanched, she had a pretty good idea of the order of Harm's wrath should he ever find out that Webb had placed all of them needlessly at risk.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"You want what?" Webb asked as he looked down the length of the kitchen table littered with the wreckage of breakfast.

"Tea," Loren repeated, as she placed her knife and fork neatly on her empty plate, "Any sort of tea, just as long as it's tea and not coffee!"

Jen nodded her agreement with Loren's sentiments, her mouth being too full of pancake to make a vocal contribution to the conversation.

"Why tea?" Webb asked, directing his questions, and all of his attention at Loren, still studiously ignoring Jen.

"Because I'm nursing and Jen's expecting, so coffee is out; caffeine is not good for babies." Loren said in the sort of voice which added an unspoken 'any idiot knows that' to the end of her sentence.

"Uh... well, what about decaf?" Webb suggested.

Loren gave him a look that was an equal mix of despair and exasperation, "Would you drink decaf coffee?" she demanded.

"God, no!" Webb exploded.

"Exactly!" Jen said, swallowing the last of her breakfast and reaching for a napkin to dab her mouth.

Webb seemed to ignore her contribution, and stared at Loren, "Alright, he sighed heavily, "And if there's anything else you need, make a list!"

"Thank you, Clay," Loren smiled sweetly, as getting up from the table, she turned to Jen, "Feel like giving me a hand with getting Sasha ready to greet the day?" her mom-ears having detected the sound of grizzling coming from the baby monitor clipped onto her belt.

"Sure," Jen replied, gulping the last of the orange juice in her glass.

Webb looked in disbelief at the wreckage on the tableland turned to the highly amused Gloria, "Oh well, someone's got to do it, come on, give me hand."

"Give you a hand with what?" she replied with a wholly spurious look of innocence on her face.

"With clearing this lot up," Webb gestured expansively at the table.

"Oh, I don't think so," Gloria grinned at him, "I've got better things to do!"

"Like what?" Webb challenged her.

"Like keeping an eye on our three charges, and making sure they're safe," Gloria said sarcastically as she pushed her chair back from the table.

"Well... if they were to come back here and help clear the mess they helped to make, then we could both keep an eye on them," Webb suggested slyly.

Gloria gave a look of pure disbelief, "Webb, not only did you manage to piss off one of them yesterday to the extent that she knocked you on your ass..."

"She did not! I lost my balance!" Webb retorted, his face crimsoning.

"But you totally ignored her during the flight, yesterday evening, and again this morning. Do you really think that either of them regard you in a charitable light right now?"

"Well... maybe not... but you could give me a hand," Webb pouted.

"Oh, I don't think so," Gloria said evenly, "After all, I cooked breakfast, so I get excused from clearing up!"

And with that she turned on her heel leaving the disconsolate spook on his own to contemplate the next half hour or so of his life.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Not for me... it's a bit early in the day," the one-eyed man grimaced and shook his head.

Kozlovsky gave a short, sneering bark of laughter and poured a generous measure of his favourite over-proof vodka into his glass. "You Americans, you pretend you are big men, but you cannot even try to live in the same world as Wolf! Is not so?" his last remark was addressed to the room at large and raised a burst of sycophantic laughter from the other five Russians who sat sprawled in casual attitudes on the furniture, and in one case on the floor,

Kozlovsky slammed the vodka bottle back into the tub of ice-chips that stood on the table next to his Desert Eagle. The one-eyed man knew that Kozlovsky carried the bright finish fifty calibre pistol, and judged that while the weapon was ostentatious, the burly Russian had the strength to use it, whether he had the skill was still a moot point.

Kozlovsky drained half his drink in one swallow and with a sigh of satisfaction, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and lifted his glass in preparation for finishing off its contents. He was interrupted from doing so by the chirp of his cell 'phone.

With a scowl of displeasure, he put his half-finished drink back on the table and dug the phone out of the pocket of his leather jacket.

"Da?" he barked into the mouthpiece, and then went absolutely still, his mouth drawn into a straight line, and his face taking on a pinched expression.

As it did so, the murmur of conversation amongst the other Russians faded into silence and they looked at the gang boss in... anticipation? No... the one-eyed man decided, it was more than that, they were looking at him in fear.

The scream of rage that suddenly burst from Kozlovsky certainly startled the one-eyed man, but had the effect of making the other Russians in the room turn pale. The tension suddenly and markedly increased and the one-eyed man was left wondering at the potential for violence that could so scare some of the hardest criminals he had ever seen, all of them sporting Russian prison tattoos.

"You lost them? Incompetent idiots! I want found! I want found! I want found!" Kozlovsky was practically frothing at the mouth, "I don't care how they left! I don't care if they sprouted own wings and were led away by bunch of Angels! I want women found!" He glared around the room as if only now realising he had an audience, "Out! Out! Get out! All of you!" he screamed.

The Russians sprang to their feet and lost no time in filing out of the room. The one-eyed man made as if to straighten from his slouch on the edge of the table and follow them, but was stopped by Kozlovsky's, "No, not you my friend... you stay! Keep Wolf company!" he grinned mirthlessly.

For a few minutes he drummed his fingers on the table and then with an air of decision, he picked up his phone from where he had dropped it in disgust and punched in a number.

"Da... you know who is it!"

"You know too what is it I want! Don't play donkey! I want to know where women go! Where Webb take them!

"What you mean you don't know! Is not good – for you! Find out and call back!"

He slammed the phone back on the table, "Idiot!" he exclaimed and then drawing a deep breath, he turned to the one-eyed man, "Is true he is idiot, but he is on inside and he will if he knows what is good for him, find out information I want! Now! This time, you have drink with Wolf, eh?"

Phrased as a question it might have been, but the one-eyed man had the feeling that wasn't a request, and neither was it just a simple invitation to have a drink.

He rubbed a hand over his shaved scalp and nodded, "Yeah, I guess I will have that drink after all!"

Kozlovsky nodded and poured two large measures of vodka into more or less clean glasses and slid one towards the one-eyed man, who somehow got the feeling that he had just passed a test, and that if he hadn't he'd now be lying in his own blood with a fifty calibre round somewhere inside him where it would do the most damage.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm ushered Mitchell and Jackson into the small conference room, leaving them to raise their eyebrows and shrug their shoulders. Harm had been silent for the remainder of the evening after he had become suspicious, and his mood hadn't improved this morning. Their hasty breakfast of coffee and toast had been consumed in silence, and the ride to JAG HQ, with its obligatory stop at the cleaners had also been made in silence.

Now with the two Fibbies sequestered in the small conference room, Ham was a man with a definite mission.

Wasting no time he stalked down the hallway and across the bull pen, discarding his cover and briefcase on Gunny's desk as he made his way purposefully towards the Admiral's office.

"He in, Tiner?" he demanded, uncharacteristically ignoring the Yeoman's greeting.

"Yes, sir, but he's..."

Whatever else Tiner was going to say was lost as Harm rapped sharply on the door frame to the Admiral's office, and without waiting for a response opened the door and marched in, his hot eyes fixed on the JAG and totally ignoring the suited visitor seated in one of the wing chairs in front of the big desk.

"Sir, what the hell is happening?" he demanded, momentarily forgetting the basics of military etiquette.

Even with making allowances for Harm's natural worry over his wife and family, A J Chegwidden was not about to tolerate such gross insubordination, and his voice cracked out like A Parris Island DI's, "Halt!"

The long instilled habit of obedience stopped Harm in his tracks and he froze, at the position of attention.

"Power down, Commander!" the irate two star yelled at him as he came around his desk, "Just who the hell do you think you are, and who the hell do you think you are talking to!"

Mentally cringing under the flail of his CO's temper, Harm could only stand and take what he knew was a richly deserved rebuke.

"Sir! My apologies, sir! I temporarily forgot myself, sir. It won't happen again!"

"Damn right it won't happen again, Commander! Because if it does I'll have those oak leaves off your collar and your ass in the brig so Goddamned fast it will make your head spin! Do I make myself clear!?" Chegwidden yelled into his face.

"Sir! Yessir!"

"Good! Now get out until you can conduct yourself in a manner befitting the officer and gentleman you are supposed to be!"

"Sir!"

Harm's about face was faultless, as was his comportment as he quitted the Admiral's office.

It was a good twenty minutes and a cup of marine grade coffee later, that his fear and worry fuelled temper back under control he returned to the Admiral's lair. "Tiner, sorry about earlier, is the Admiral, free now?"

"Yes, sir." the Yeoman answered somewhat apprehensively, "Director Kershaw left a few minutes ago."

Harm said nothing for a moment, but the fact that the Admiral's early morning visitor had been the Director of the CIA struck him as highly significant. He nodded his head, "Would you see if the Admiral can spare me a few minutes, please, Tiner?"

Tiner nodded and pressed the intercom call button, "Admiral, sir, Commander Rabb wishes to know if you could spare the time to speak with him?"

There was a pregnant pause for a good twenty seconds until the Admiral replied, "Very well, send him in Tiner!"

Harm rapped again on the door frame but this time he waited for the invitation to enter before opening the door and marching across the carpet to come to a precise halt in front of Chegwidden's desk.

The Admiral, took of his reading glasses and clasped his hands together on top of the blotter in front of him, "Well?" he rasped.

"Sir, firstly, thank you for making time to speak with me," Harm rapped out, his eyes fixed on a spot on the wall behind and some two feet above the Admiral's head, "And secondly sir, please accept my deepest apologies for my grossly disrespectful behaviour of some minutes ago!"

Chegwidden considered his junior officer. Rabb's fire and passion were two of the aspects of his character that made him such a formidable and successful attorney, and were all very well when tightly harnessed, but the younger man could not be allowed to let his passions run riot, particularly not in a situation like this, for his own sake as much as anything else.

"Very well, Mister Rabb; we'll say no more about it – this time! but you may rest assured that any further outbreaks of that nature _will_ see your ass in the brig! Understood?"

"Sir, yessir!"

"Good. Now, take a seat and tell me, what is it that's got you so fired up this early in the morning?"

Harm sat and after a few moment's hesitation, he began, "Sir, when Jen, Legalman One Rabb, called me yesterday she said that she and Lieutenant Rabb had made a move by helo..."

Chegwidden sat for ten minutes while Harm related the events of yesterday as told to him by Jen, and also the conversation he'd had with the two FBI Agents.

"...So sir, it seems that the safe house Webb took them to might have been compromised, and I wanted to find out if you knew or could find out what was going on?"

Chegwidden cursed silently. Dammit! Kershaw might have given him a heads up on this! He knew nothing of the move subsequent to the fire fight, and he didn't think it would be prudent, just yet, to let Rabb know about that either. So, as much as he hated concealing the truth from his subordinate, he sighed and said, "Yes, I can see where such news might disturb you, Commander. I don't have any answers for you at present, but I'll make some enquiries, but you know how the Langley spooks love their 'classified' and 'need to know' bullshit." He sighed once again.

"Leave it with me, Commander, and once I hear anything, I'll be sure to let you know!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Gloria knocked gently on the bedroom door before opening it a crack and asking, "Is it alright if I come in?"

"Sure come right ahead," Jen answered, smiling up at the CIA agent from where she sat on the end of the bed, Sasha nestled contentedly in her arms, while Loren with a grimace of distaste busied herself in wrapping Sasha's soiled diaper in a plastic bag prior to dumping it in the trash.

Gloria sighed as she perched on the end of the other bed, and smiled across at Sasha, "She's just so gorgeous, I've been thinking about having one for a while now, and seeing her has made me decide to go for it!"

Jen glanced at Gloria's left hand, "But... you aren't... I mean... are you sure you want to be a single mom... Oh, sorry, that's none of my nevermind!"

"No, I am married, but it's a bit inconvenient wearing a ring in this job – for all sorts of reasons. We do want a family, but we've been putting it off for all sorts of dumb reasons, work, careers, and all the rest of the worthless excuses folk come up with. No, when I finish this assignment, we, Anthony and I, are going to have a serious discussion!"

Loren finished tying the trash bag and straightening, grinned at Gloria, "Good for you!" she said emphatically before she headed for the bathroom to clear up the baby changing paraphernalia and to wash her hands.

A silence fell on the room, broken only by a few random gurgles from Sasha, until Jen looked up at Gloria, "Thanks for fixing breakfast this morning, the pancakes were really good, but..."

"But what?" Gloria asked, ready to take offence if Jen should slight her cooking skills.

"Well... they were really, really good, like I said, so I hope you won't be too upset if I ask if you can get some marmalade, the thick-cut chunky stuff, to go with them for tomorrow?"

"Marmalade?" Gloria asked, her face reinforcing the surprise in her voice.

"Yeah... and if it's not too much trouble, maybe a tin of sardines too... You know, the ones in tomato sauce..."

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Pyotr Kozlovsky emptied his vodka glass and let it fall on on the table, and picking up his chirping cell phone he rasped "Slúshayu!" into it.

He nodded as he listened intently to whatever was being said, and then grinned in a manner that left the one-eyed man, his sole companion for the moment, in no doubt as to how he had acquired his 'Wolf' nickname.

"Da!"

He listened some more, and then with his grin spreading further he grunted, "Da, spasebo!" and closing his phone, turned to the one-eyed man, "It is good thing to have friends in high places! CIA moved targets by helicopter yesterday, but we know where they are now! I will teach, tonight, these stupid Americans that I will not be stopped by stupid laws. Like I say: what Wolf wants – Wolf gets!" He shrugged, "In some ways is pity, they are good looking women, and I know place where blonde women get high price!"

The one eyed man repressed a shudder. Hardened and immoral as some would say he was, he at least still had some ethical underpinning, while the Russian was just vicious, cruel, cold bloodedly sadistic and completely amoral.

"Now my friend!" he rose from his seat and slapped the one-eyed man on the shoulder, "we have work to do. People to see, arrangements to make! Come!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"She wants what?!" Webb almost howled in disbelief.

"A tin of sardines," Gloria replied placidly, "in tomato sauce, mark you, not in oil or brine."

"That's disgusting!" the disgruntled spook grumbled.

"Maybe so," Gloria grinned maliciously, "But if I was doing the buying, I'd indulge her... after all, the lady does pack a pretty powerful right!"

Webb scowled at the reminder and gently rubbed his still sore jaw, not only had the slap really stung, it had been delivered so hard that the heel of Jen's hand had hit the side of his face with enough force to bruise the jaw-bone.

"Yeah, so what gives her enough nerve to go around making demands after she assaulted me?" Webb whined.

"Umm... how about the fact that she's pregnant and all fired up with hormones that make her wholly unpredictable. She 'assaulted' you because she figured that you had put her unborn child in danger. That was bad, Webb, but can you even begin to imagine what her reactions would be like if she figures out that you've denied her the chance to assuage her cravings? Think man, just how bad could it be, particularly if she remembers that Loren has her weapon with her?"

"They're armed?" Webb yelped, going white at the thought of a pissed-off Jennifer Rabb with access to a side arm. "If you know that why the hell haven't you taken the weapon from them?"

"Because Loren made it quite, quite clear that the only way I was going to take her weapon was to, and I quote, 'prise it from her cold, dead hand,' and somehow, I believed her. Besides, if you didn't suspect she has a weapon, then if the shit hits the fan, maybe the bad guys won't either, and that could turn out to be a huge advantage!"

"Oh, wow, thanks for the vote of confidence!" Webb snarled.

"Well, your performance on this mission had hardly been confidence inspiring, has it?" Gloria shot back waspishly. She was getting tired of Webb's pettishness. Yes, OK, Jennifer Rabb had slapped him to the ground, but he had screwed the pooch, and had knowingly and callously placed his charges in danger simply because his ego was writing cheques that his abilities couldn't cash. He was a grown man, time he got over it and accepted his lumps, and that he had more than deserved them.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

In their bathroom, Jen sat on the edge of the bath while Loren wrapped a wet, cold, crepe bandage around her friend's swollen right wrist, winding it as tight as she could without inflicting additional pain.

Even though she felt real sympathy for Jen's pain, Loren couldn't prevent herself from indulging in a spot of gentle teasing, "Next time you hit him that hard, I suggest you do it with a length of four by two timber – it might hurt less!" she recommended with a spurious air of helpfulness.

"Who? him or me? Because if you mean him, I'd still got for the more painful option!" Jen snapped and then she drew in a sharp breath between her clenched teeth.

"Oh, sorry, sweetie," Loren said, relaxing the pressure slightly, "Better?"

"Yeah, thanks..." Jen answered, letting some of the tension ease out of her as the stab of pain lessened.

"H'mm..." Loren then giggled, "I wonder how Gloria's making out with having Webb get your sardines..."

"Oh, he'll get them... if he knows what's good for him!" Jen rejoined darkly.

"I wonder..." Loren mused, "But since when have you eaten tinned sardines? I mean I'm pretty familiar with the contents of your fridge and pantry, and I've never seen any tinned fish in either!"

"That's because both Harm and I would rather have fresh fish that hasn't had food colourings and flavourings and God knows what other sorts of additives in it!"

"So...?" Loren persisted, as she finished wrapping and pinning the bandage.

"So, it was this morning, when we were having breakfast, I suddenly realised just how tasty those pancakes would have been if they'd had some sardines in tomato sauce to go with the maple syrup – oh, and some marmalade too!"

Loren blenched, as she took Jen's left hand in hers to give her an assist in standing, "That... that's some pretty weird combination, Jen" she gulped, fighting down a wave of nausea and conveniently forgetting that she'd had her own peculiar cravings before giving birth.

"It's a bit unusual, I admit," Jen acknowledged, "but apart from all the different flavours and textures, think of all the goodness in it. There's the omega three in the fish, the anti-oxidants and the vitamin C in the tomato sauce, and in the marmalade, and then..."

"OK, OK," Loren gulped again, "Too much information, there, slugger!"

"Slugger?" Jen repeated, momentarily diverted from her culinary daydreams, "Hey, I kinda like that!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The one-eyed man took a deep breath, he had finally, pleading the need to relieve himself, managed to get away from Kozlovsky for a few moments. He carefully checked the two stalls before he leaned his back against the door, and reaching down to his belt, pressed a particular stud in the pattern that decorated it and then raised his wrist to his mouth and spoke quietly and rapidly into his watch, "This is Jester, the Wolf hunts tonight. He knows where the new sheep pen is. Jester out!"


	57. Actions Speak Louder than Words

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter ****57  
>Actions Speak Louder than Words<strong>

Director Kershaw had only just returned to his office when his secretary tapped lightly on his door, "Mister Arkwright to see you, Director."

Kershaw looked up in surprise, Arkwright, the Deputy Director Communications wasn't known for his social habits and was rarely found outside the agencies communication centre, buried deep underground at the centre of the Langley complex.

"Are we scheduled to meet, Miss Dawson?" Kershaw asked.

"No, Director, but he says it's a matter of urgency," Pamela Dawson replied.

"It must be, if it's brought him up here unannounced and unheralded, send him in!"

Almost as soon as he'd finished speaking the door opened and Simon Arkwright entered. Impatient with protocol the tall, thin, almost emaciated Director of Communications was nearly bald except for a fringe of over long hair that ran around the back of his scalp from ear to ear and brushed his collar. Although he wore a shirt and tie under his Harris Tweed jacket, the shirt didn't look as if it had been ironed, and the tie had been loosened so that the top button of his shirt could be undone. His shoes quite clearly hadn't seen polish for more than a week, his cavalry twill slacks were as rumpled as his shirt, and Kershaw estimated that the stubble on the other man's face was at least three days old.

"Thank you! You can go now!"" Arkwright threw carelessly over his shoulder at Pam Dawson, and with a just audible sniff and an eyebrow raised in the direction of Kershaw, Pam left, closing the door with a definite snap that wasn't quite a slam.

"My secretary, you know, Arkwright, you might leave it to me to dismiss her," Kershaw said mildly.

"Huh? Oh... More important!" Arkwright waved off his breach of manners, "Much more important!" he repeated flinging himself into one of the visitor chairs.

"OK, what is?"

"Fifteen minutes ago one of our dedicated operators got a message from a sleeper asset in the Pickled Pepper case, the asset correctly identified himself and said, and I quote, 'The Wolf hunts tonight. He knows where the new sheep pen is'."

Kershaw looked concerned for a moment and then forced his face into a more relaxed expression, "You do know who Jester is, don't you?"

"Of course I do! It was I that allocated him his code-name!" Arkwright snapped impatiently.

"Well then, you know just how... ah... just how much he delights in playing his own game for his own purposes?"

Arkwright shrugged, "No I don't, and I don't care. All I know is that I have instructions that all messages concerning Pickled Pepper are to be brought to your attention immediately!"

"Yes, well... you've done that, thank you." Kershaw dismissed the other man.

Arkwright stood and glared at Kershaw from under his bushy eye-brows and the Director was almost sure he heard a muttered 'buffoon ' explode from Arkwright's lips as he he made his ungainly way out of the office.

The second the door closed behind Arkwright, Kershaw lost his detached air and hunching forward, he picked up his 'phone and dialled zero. And as soon as Pam Dawson answered he snapped, "Get me a secure line to Admiral Chegwidden at Navy JAG HQ!"

"No need, Director, I have Admiral Chegwidden holding for you on the secure line."

"Right, before you put him on, get onto Operations, I want to know what the hell Webb is playing at!"

"Yes, Director... shall I put the Admiral...?"

"Yes, yes, put him on! Chegwidden this is Kershaw..."

"_What the hell are you people playing at_?" Chegwidden demanded.

Kershaw was slightly taken aback, "Calm down, A J, please. At the moment I haven't got a clue what you're asking about!"

"_I'm talking about that highly pissed off Commander who burst into my office this morning! Once he'd calmed down I was able to get some sort of sense out of him – which is more than I'm getting from Langley_!"

"OK... what did your Commander have to complain about?"

"_He wanted to know the reason why his wife and his sister and her baby were moved – by helo – from the safe house to which Webb had initially taken them_!"

"They were moved?" Kershaw asked, his eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline 'Well, that makes some sort of sense out of the 'new sheep pen' part of Jester's message'

"_Apparently so_!" Chegwidden replied heavily, "_and neither Lieutenant nor Legalman One Rabb are the type to make up stories like that, especially when they are both fully aware that Commander Rabb has a protective streak a mile and a half wide and a superman complex to match_!"

"Shit!" Kershaw swore viciously as the puzzle started to take shape. "Admiral, the only reason I can think of that Webb would have moved your people is because their location had been compromised!"

"_The firefight_!" A J said, and it was definitely a statement, not a question.

"What firefight?" Kershaw yelled.

"_The firefight outside the safe house the night before last_!" Chegwidden snarled, "_Christ, don't your people tell you anything! You did know that one of your agents was hit during that firefight and is receiving medical treatment?_"

"No! I damn well didn't! But believe me Chegwidden, I am going to find out exactly what happened, and I will have somebody's guts for this! And how do you know about it I don't?" He narrowed his eyes as a suspicion crossed them, "How did you find out about this? Did Webb...?"

"_No, I've heard nothing from Webb_," Chegwidden paused, "_I heard about it through my contact at the FBI._"

"Crap! The Fibbies know about this, and I don't,? I'm going to string Webb up by his..." Kershaw refrained from finishing his threat and took another deep breath, "But that's not the worst..."

"_Of for fu.. for God's sake, what now_?" Chegwidden groaned.

"This must absolutely go no further, A J, but I've got an agent in place who has been working his way into Kozlovsky's confidence, and I've just – about fifteen minutes ago – received a peculiar message from him."

"_What sort of peculiar message_?" Chegwidden asked grimly.

Kershaw ran his hand over his balding scalp, unknowingly imitating one of the Admiral's habitual gestures. "It seems that Kozlovsky intends to make his move against the Rabb women tonight, and apparently he knows of their new location..." Kershaw let his sentence trail off into silence and waited for the explosion. To his surprise it didn't come.

"_And just how would he know that piece of information_?" Chegwidden asked softly and quietly, but there was something in the quality of his voice that sent shivers up and down Kershaw's spine.

"I don't know," he confessed, "But if he does know the location then he's just added his name to the list of those liable to special rendition."

Unseen by Kershaw Chegwidden nodded his head, at some stage during this conversation, the attorney who should have been screaming a protest against special rendition had gradually been replaced by the SeAL who would like nothing better than the man who had threatened his people removed – one way or another.

"_Very well_," he replied, "_But if Kozlovsky is getting ready to make his move tonight, what are you going to do about it_?"

"I'm going to stop him!" Kershaw said determinedly. "I'm going to assemble a team of agents to go out there and the team leader will be senior to Webb and will relieve him of his command, and then when Kozlovsky makes his attempt we will take him down!"

"Good!" Chegwidden grunted, "I'll be at your office at eighteen hundred, ready to go!"

"Admiral... you're not cleared... and with respect you are an attorney!" Kershaw protested.

"_I am also a SeAL_!" Chegwidden retorted.

"Well... yeah... but you're not..."

"_Invited_?" Chegwidden replied sarcastically, "_Well, if I'm not invited, then I'll just have to gate crash the party! I'll see you at eighteen hundred_!"

Kershaw stared disbelievingly at the handset as he heard the 'click' that signified that the JAG had ended the connection, but as much as he was ticked off at Chegwidden, he had other, more urgent matters to which he needed to turn his attention.

With something like a growl, he dialled zero again, "Miss Dawson, Is the duty Operations Officer here yet?"

"_Yes, Director_!""

"Send him in!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm hunched forward, his elbows on his desk as he frowned into the middle distance while mindlessly and arhythmically he tapped a pencil on his blotter.

He was distracted from his brooding by a polite cough and looking up and to his right he saw Mac standing in his doorway. "I did knock," she excused herself, "but you seemed to be miles away."

"Um... yeah, just thinking..." Harm said, feeling a surge of heat in his ears as the tips turned red.

"H'mm... well... as Chief of Staff, I might ask why you weren't more productively using the Navy's time, instead of tapping out garbled Morse code with a pencil," Mac offered, but then continued before Harm could respond, "But as a friend, I'd far sooner ask you what's got you so distracted?"

Harm sat back in his chair, dropping the pencil on his desk and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, "It's this whole protective custody thing for Jen, Loren and Sasha, Mac. I wasn't too happy about Webb taking point on this one, and I'm beginning to suspect from what Jen told me last night and what the Admiral carefully isn't telling me this morning, that the whole damn op is about to head south. In other words it's turning into a typical Webb SNAFU!"

"Go on," Mac encouraged him, mutely indicating that she'd like to sit.

"Sure, go ahead, but close the door before you do!" Harm told her.

Mac sat, looking attentively at Harm as he paused to gather his thoughts.

"Last night, when Jen called, she told me that she and Loren had been moved by helo. Now, when she called me the night before, she made no mention of an air move, and she wouldn't have not told me, because she made a point of telling me that Sasha didn't enjoy the experience."

"OK... but why is this significant?" Mac inquired.

"Webb said he was taking them to a safe house, right?"

"Right." Mac agreed.

"So if they were at a safe house, why would he need to move them at all, and why would he need to move them by air?"

"Umm..." Mac fished around for something useful and/or encouraging to say, but came up blank. But that didn't really matter as Harm continued to think his way through the conundrum, "The only reason I can think of for moving from a safe house is because that location has been compromised. And the only way it could be come compromised is that Webb, somehow, screwed the pooch."

"You can't be certain of that, Harm," Mac defended the absent spook.

"No?" Harm asked sardonically, a raised eyebrow adding to his delivery, "And anyway, if they moved by air, that argues that somebody thought the place might be under observation, and that a road move might be followed, or even ambushed on their way to the new location."

"Well, the air move argues that Webb took steps to prevent just that from happening," Mac offered.

"Yeah, maybe," Harm replied, not sounding at all convinced, "But if I find out that Webb's incompetence put Jen and our baby at risk... do you remember the Admiral's reaction to Webb's messing with us in Russia?"

Mac couldn't help the grin that spread across her face, "Oh, yeah, I remember!" she said.

"Yeah," Harm nodded, "Well if I find out he's put my family at risk, then a broken nose will be the least of his worries!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Tobias Fornell took his usual seat in the gazebo that overlooked the reflecting pool and waited patiently for his contact.

He did not have too long to wait, the man he had come to meet had too many years' habit of punctuality, so the FBI agent wasn't at all surprised that he was joined within five minutes, by a lean, grey-haired man who carried two Styrofoam mugs of bearing the logo of a well known coffee house franchise, and a rolled newspaper in the side pocket of his jacket. The newcomer sat beside Fornell on the bench and offered him one of the mugs.

"This real coffee, or did you make it yourself?" Fornell demanded suspiciously.

"Hell, where I come from, it's only real if you make it yourself," the other man said with a lazy West Virginia drawl and an amused gleam in his eye, "But, no, this is store bought crap."

"Unh," Fornell grunted, taking a cautious sip of the steaming contents of his mug, "Not bad!" was his verdict.

"Ya think?" the other demanded incredulously, "Damn company ought to be prosecuted for false advertising!" he declared as he crammed the lid back on his mug, and reaching over the arm of the bench, he dropped the offending article into the adjacent trash can.

"Yeah, whatever," Fornell grinned. Long years had accustomed him to the other man's foibles. "Did your boy McGoo..."

"McGee," the other man corrected him wearily.

"Yeah, McGee or McGeek or whoever, did he do his stuff?"

"Ain't got a clue what he did, but he gave me an envelope to give to you, it's inside this." He pulled the rolled newspaper out of his pocket and passed it to the FBI Agent.

"Is it good?"

"Dunno," he shrugged, "It's the AAR from the firefight, but it was written and submitted by Webb, so how much resemblance it bears to reality is open to discussion. Well, I gotta be going! Have a fun read, Tobias!"

"I will!" Fornell grinned wryly, "and Jethro... thanks!"

"Not a problem, Tobias; like I said it's always a pleasure to pull the FBI out of the crap!"

Tobias Fornell grinned as he watched Leroy Jethro Gibbs climb the grassy slope to where he had parked his car.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

A J Chegwidden had sweated the rest of the day through in an agony of impatience, which in turn had a wearing effect on his temper, and he was not quite sure how he'd made it to this late in the afternoon without bursting a blood vessel or transferring half his staff to Adak or Keflavik or Diego Garcia; he had been irritably on edge all day since his telephone conversation with the CIA's Director, but now it was just gone seventeen hundred hours, and he could now, perhaps, at last put his somewhat nebulous plan into action.

He reached for the intercom on his desk and toggled the 'call' button, "Tiner, has Commander Rabb secured yet?"

"_Uh... One moment, sir._"

Chegwidden waited until a 'click' told him that Tiner was back.

"_Sir_?"

"Yes, Tiner?"

"_The Commander's office door is closed and the lights are off... I could check with the CP, sir_?"

"No, don't do that. I want you to go straight down to the CP and sign out a HK plus six full clips for my use, and then get them up here to me. Preferably without anyone seeing them, or asking awkward questions. Got it?"

"_Heckler Koch plus six full clips! Aye, aye, sir_!" Tiner did his best, but couldn't quite keep the surprise out of his voice.

"And not a word to anyone, Tiner! Understood?"

"_Understood sir_!"

Chegwidden waited until he heard the 'click' that meant Tiner had released the button on the intercom. He picked up the 'phone and dialled the extension for the OIC Security Detachment.

"_Security Detachment, Captain Fletcher, sir_!"

"Fletcher, this is Admiral Chegwidden listen closely, I don't intend to repeat myself!"

"_Aye, aye, sir_!"

"My Yeoman is on his way down to you. When he gets to the CP desk he will ask for an MP5 and six fully loaded clips. No-one is to make a fuss, or remark on this in any manner. Issue him the equipment, and then forget about him and this 'phone call! Capisce?"

"_Aye, aye, sir_!"

"Thank you!"

Chegwidden replaced the phone on its hook and then left his desk and crossing the office, he opened his wall safe and removed the lock box that contained his service pistol. Checking that both clips were fully loaded, he slipped it into its shoulder holster and wrapping the harness around the holster he placed it in his briefcase, 'Damn, I wish the Navy had kept the Colt instead of switching to the Beretta. If I'm right about what I think is going to go down this evening, I might just end up wishing I had a forty-five for a back-up, instead of a nine mil!"

A glance out of the window made him frown, just for once he could do with one of Washington's summer showers, or at least the threat of one. His raincoat might make him look a little conspicuous, but he would attract far less curious glances in that than if he calmly walked out of the building carrying an MP5.

The decision made, he shrugged into his lightweight summer raincoat, buttoning it up to the neck and placed his cover and briefcase ready to hand.

He had barely completed his preparations when a knock came at the door.

Hastily seating himself, he called out "Enter!"

The door opened to Tiner carrying the MP5 almost as if it was a live rattlesnake, a canvas haversack that Chegwidden assumed held the loaded clips slung over his shoulder.

"Well done Tiner!"

"Yes, sir. Sir... what..."

"Need to know, Tiner, need to know!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" the Yeoman replied as watched his chief place his cover on his head, and slinging the haversack over his shoulder, tuck the weapon below his raincoat. "Now, remember," he cautioned his Petty Office, "You saw nothing, you know nothing!"

"Didn't see what, sir?" Tiner replied.

"Good man!" Chegwidden briefly gripped the younger man's shoulder, and clapping his cover on his head left the office, and with a gruff, "As you were," forestalled the bull-pen's rising to attention headed for the stairwell rather than the elevator.

Seaman Beth Hawkins turned to one of her workmates, "Was the Admiral wearing his raincoat?" in tones that conveyed the idea that she didn't trust the evidence of her own eyes.

"Um... yeah... but it doesn't look like it's going to rain, or it didn't the last time I looked out of the window..."

"Yeah... do you think he knows something we don't"

"Probably; After all, he is the JAG!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Yeah... Damn, I wish I'd thought to bring my umbrella!"

Harm waited somewhat impatiently just inside the door of the small conference room as agents Jackson and Mitchell gathered the paraphernalia that allowed them to endure of their enforced solitude throughout the working day. Mitchell stuffing a hefty paperback into her purse, while Jackson rolled up a length of knitting and packed it and her needles away in a hemp carry-all.

"Ready, ladies?" Harm asked as they began to get to their feet.

"Yes, thank, Commander," Agent Mitchell replied just as coolly as Harm had asked.

"OK, then let's go..." Harm stepped out through the door and suddenly stopped, causing Agent Jackson to cannon into him.

'What the... that's Tiner! But what the hell is he doing with a weapon?' Harm shook his head and turned back towards the two women as he felt the impact. Jackson was about to voice a protest but stopped, her mouth open as Harm held a finger to his lips in the universal sign for silence.

"Wait here until I get back to you!" he instructed them as he shut the door in their faces. Giving Tiner twenty seconds, by a slow count, to reach the Admiral's office, if that was his destination, Harem slipped quietly down the corridor, and without waiting to knock, darted into Mac's office.

Ignoring for a second her indignant, "Forgotten how to knock have we?" he hastily closed the blinds until he left himself a narrow slit to peer through, and then turning towards Mac, who had started to rise from her chair, he repeated the 'quiet' gesture he had used on the two FBI agents.

Mac frowned, Harm wasn't above playing a practical joke or two, she had heard rumours that he'd had something of a reputation in that field while he was at the academy, but a practical joke didn't fit in with his mood today, or the last forty eight hours for that matter, and his face was devoid of any vestige of humour. In fact, the intensity of his gaze as he peered through the gap in the blinds reminded her of the fixed stare of a hunting cat.

The object of his interest, Yeoman First Class Jason Tiner failed to reappear, instead a rain-coat clad Admiral almost stalked across the bull-pen, the canvas haversack across his shoulder looking remarkably like the one that Tiner had taken into the Admiral's office.

"The old bast..." Harm started to say, but was interrupted by Mac's urgent hiss.

"What the hell is going on Rabb?"

"The admiral's up to something," Harm said, "He's loaded for bear and wearing a rain-coat!"

Mac instinctively looked out of the window to see a perfectly blue and totally cloudless sky, "That's odd..." she began and then saw that Harm had opened the door "Where are you going?" she called after him.

"Following the Admiral!" he threw back over his shoulder.

"Wait for me!" she called, grabbing her cover and purse.

"Mac, no! Stay here!"

"Not a chance, sailor!" she replied, and then as she saw the stubborn set to his jaw she gave him an exasperated glare, "Do you really want to waste time in trying to stop me, or trying to talk me out of it?" she demanded.

Harm had heard that note in her voice before and knew he didn't have time to argue, "Oh, come on then! But don't come crying to me later if you get your six shot off!"

With Mac almost trotting in her heels and skirt as she tried to keep up with him Harm headed for the stairwell, ignoring the protesting cry of "Commander!" that came for the two FBI agents as, tired of waiting for him, they left the small conference room just in time to see him disappear through the door at the stairwell entrance.

Harm almost flew down the stairs to the first floor and barrelled over to the CP, "Staff Sergeant Hernandez! Two nine mills and a couple of clips each! Quickly!"

The Marine NCO responded to the command in the only way he knew, "Aye, aye, sir!", turning to the lock box, while Corporal Somers scribbled the details on an issue voucher and thrust it at the Naval officer.

"Thanks, Staff Sergeant!" Harm yelled as he scrawled his signature on the voucher and then headed for the exit, and then hearing his name called again, looked back over his shoulder to see Agents Jackson and Mitchell in hot pursuit. "And keep those two women here!" he shouted at the Marine sentry as he and Mac bolted pout of the front door.

Mitchell and Jackson ran towards the door but were brought up in their tracks by the imposing bulk of Staff Sergeant Hernandez, who, his speed belying his size, had vaulted the CP counter and interposed himself between the two women and the door.

"Sorry ladies, Commander Rabb ordered me to keep you here!"

"And just how do you intend to do that?" Mitchell demanded, "By force?"

"Oh, no ma'am, I would never lay a hand on a woman. But then again," he smiled grimly and nodded to his left, "I don't need to. Don't let Lance Corporal Somers' size fool you, she's dumped me on my ass before now, and..." he dropped his voice to a whisper, "she's really, really, mean."

Mitchell and Jackson turned to their right to see the petite, blonde Marine Lance Corporal eyeing them dispassionately, and somehow both agents knew that she would have no compunction in putting either or both of them on their backs if they persisted in their attempts to get out of the building.

"OK, Sergeant," Jackson admitted defeat, "you got us... and anyway," she continued resignedly as she saw through the open door Harm's Lexus peel out of the parking lot, "there goes our ride!"

Hernandez grimaced at being addressed as Sergeant, but decided to let the two women slide on that.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm put his foot to the floor, ignoring any and all speed limits, and Mac gulped, hoping that in his present mood Harem wouldn't be tempted to evade pursuit if they were spotted by a police patrol car.

"Where are we going, Harm?" Mac inquired as she hung on to the door strap.

"Too much time's passed since the Admiral left JAG, and us getting away. But I reckon he's got an MP5..."

"Your favourite," Mac murmured with a sidelong glance at Harm.

"Ha, ha! Very funny, Marine!" Harm shot back, "But he's still in Summer Whites, so I reckon he'll head home to get changed into something less..."

"Visible?" Mac suggested.

"Exactly!" Harm agreed, and then shot a look at Mac, "I've got BDUs in my sea-bag in the trunk, so I'll be OK, and maybe we can find something – jogging bottoms and a T - in there for you too. Because if I'm right in what I'm thinking is going on, then a skirt and heels aren't going to be the most practical things for you to wear!"

"What do you think is going on?" Mac asked.

"Well, after this morning, when everyone was acting kind of shifty, and then the Admiral sending Tiner to get him an HK, I have a hunch that this whole Kozlovsky thing is coming to the boil!"

Mac shut her eyes briefly, "And you just have to be in at the finish!" she said despairingly.

"Damn straight! It's my pregnant wife that's tied up in the middle of this, and hey, you invited yourself along on this shindig!" Harm pointed out sardonically.

"Of course I did!" Mac agreed emphatically, "Who else was going to watch your six, Butch?"

Harm, despite his concerns managed a quick grin in her direction, "Old habits die hard, hey, Sundance?"

Mac rolled her eyes, "Yeah!" she agreed and then lapsed into silence and concentrated on staying in her seat.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

A J Chegwidden let himself into the house and headed straight for his bedroom. There he stripped off the haversack and his raincoat and threw them on the bed, before laying the MP5 down on the coat. He opened the walk-in closet that led to his private bathroom and there he stripped off his uniform, replacing it with a black T-shirt and a set of black combat fatigues, grinning in satisfaction that they still fitted him. 'Those early morning workouts are finally paying off!', before sitting down on the edge of his bed and pulling on a worn-soft pair of jump boots.

Finally he stood, pulling on a black combat vest, and checking the pockets for various items of equipment, he stowed the Heckler-Koch magazines in the integral pouches, and then cramming a knitted watch cap on his head, he picked up the MP5 and made for the door and his car.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Fortunately for Mac's peace of mind, and bodily comfort, with Harm's foot seemingly cemented to the floor and him throwing the heavy vehicle around the traffic he shaved at least three minutes off the twelve to fifteen minutes Mac reckoned it usually took to get from JAG to the Admiral's place and she breathed a sigh of relief when Harm eased the SUV into the cover of a stand of hornbeams opposite the entry to the Admiral's house.

"Keep an eye on the gateway while I slip into something more comfortable!" Harm instructed with a wry grin as he dismounted from the vehicle.

Mac heaved a sigh and resisting the temptation to peek in the rear-view mirror as Harm was changing into his BDUs kept her eyes firmly fixed on the entrance to the Admiral's drive.

Harm changed swiftly, and in a couple of minutes he was back in the driver's seat, "OK, have a rummage through, see if you can find something better than that skirt!" he suggested.

Mac sniffed and without much hope slid out of her seat and round to the trunk of the Lexus. She took slightly longer than Harm to change and when she returned, she had kept her uniform blouse on, but had removed the fruit salad and various badges pinned to it and was dressed in a pair of his jogging bottoms, with the waist band pulled as high as she could get it, and then folded down over her skirt's belt which she had cinched around her middle. The legs of the bottoms she had rolled up to her ankles, and she was keenly aware of the ridiculous figure she cut.

Keenly aware of Harem's scrutiny as he appraised her outfit she growled, "Not a word! Not one single word, squid!"

"Not even to offer you a pair of pants blousers?" he queried mildly, holding out the two short lengths of twisted elastic cords.

"Oh... yeah, thanks," Mac muttered, 'At least bending down to fix them gives me an excuse for a red-face'.

"Oh and by the way... you owe me two hundred bucks for a pair of shoes!" she told Harm showing him the remains of her pumps, that looked extremely sorry for themselves now that she had snapped off the three inch heels.

Harm gazed at the ruined shoes with a mixture of disbelief and amusement, "Two hundred bucks – for a pair of shoes?" he gasped.

"Nothing unusual about that!" Mac snapped, "Jen could tell you that!"

"Um, no... Jen doesn't wear heels," Harm disagreed.

"Of course she does!" Mac shot back, "It's just that she can't wear any now until the baby's born!"

"Yeah... OK... but two hundred bucks?" Harm gasped, all traces of amusement gone from his voice.

"Yep!" Mac replied with fierce satisfaction, "Now, shut up and watch the entry way!"

"No need," Harm rasped, turning the key in the ignition, "here he is!"


	58. Briefing Encounters

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 58  
>Briefing Encounters<strong>

"I think that's our cue!" Harm muttered grimly as the Lexus' engine fired.

"Yeah? Keep thinking, Butch, that's what you're good at!" Mac shot back at him, remembering as she did so the closeness they had shared just as recently as their last assignment to Afghanistan.

Harm obviously remembered the same conversation, he turned his head towards Mac and grinned, "But no blaze of glory, yet!"

"Hell, no!" Mac agreed.

Harm let the Admiral's Expedition reach the end of the road and signal a left turn before he edged the Lexus out from behind the hornbeams and onto the pavement. Then, drawing up to the junction he deliberately paused to allow a half dozen or so vehicles pass, letting them form a buffer between the Admiral and himself and Mac.

Finally, joining the main stream of traffic, he turned to Mac, "Keep an eye open for hazards while I concentrate on the Admiral," he instructed her.

Mac turned an exasperated glare on him, "This isn't quite the first time, I've been on a tail!" she snapped.

"I know, I know," he said soothingly, "But I just thought…"

"Leave the thinking to the horses! They've got bigger heads!" Mac retorted.

Harm was silent for a few moments, and when he spoke again, he voice held a tremor of amusement, "You… uh… you realise that you've just contradicted yourself?" he asked in a reasonable tone.

Mac glanced across at him; his face had lost none of that intense hunting cat expression she had noticed in her office, yet there was a hint of a grin, just visible to someone who knew him well, tugging at the corner of his mouth, and just the faintest of laughter lines at the corner of his eye.

It might have seemed strange to someone who didn't know Harm to see a grin on his face, considering what he was involved in and the danger threatening those he loved. But Mac knew her long term partner well enough to know that the wry humour he indulged in these circumstances was a defence mechanism to prevent him from brooding.

Even knowing this, Mac sighed, although she knew, bone deep, that she was going to regret it, she couldn't help herself. "How do you work that out?" she demanded.

"Well it wasn't five minutes ago that you said, and I quote, 'keep thinking, that's what you're good at', unquote!"

Mac fumed silently, she hated it when he used her own words against her, and that damned annoying squid was getting far too good at that for her liking!

"Careful, Navy." She warned him, reluctantly allowing her own grin to appear, "Remember what they say about payback!"

"What? That it's vastly overrated?"

"Yeah, just like Dress Whites and Gold wings!"

"Cute, Jarhead!" Harm risked a quick glance across at Mac, letting her see by his grin that he wasn't being serious.

"Hey, I wasn't being cute, Navy!" Mac protested, "I was being funny; I'm a Marine, remember? And Marines don't do cute!"

"Yeah… riiight…." Harm let the words draw right out.

Mac was about to reply in kind, but as she scanned the road ahead she saw something, "Heads up!" she said, "Junction ahead, and he's indicating right!"

"On it!" Harm replied, "Thanks, Marine!"

There was less traffic on this secondary road, and playing it safe. Harm dropped further back, and lapsed into silence as a frown began to make itself visible on his forehead.

Mac opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but then thought better of it, 'He'll tell me when he's good and ready!'

Harm's mouth tightened even further when the black Expedition made another right turn onto the Dolley Madison Freeway, "Damn! I should have known it! He's heading for Langley! If I'd thought… we could have maybe had time to get ready for this properly, instead scraping by with what I had with me!"

"Yeah, and if you'd guessed wrong, we wouldn't have had a clue where he was headed!" Mac pointed out, "Harm hindsight's a wonderful thing, but it only works after the event. Don't try and second-guess yourself!"

"Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Mac."

"Of course I am," she replied smugly, "and now that we've settled that, just drive, sailor!"

Harm flashed her a quick half-grin and then turned his eyes and attention back to the road ahead. Ten minutes he swore softly as the Admiral's Expedition moved into the left hand land and indicated to make a left turn.

If he'd tried, Harm couldn't have picked a worse sport for covert surveillance. True, the road was lined with trees and bushes, but they formed a continuous, unbroken barrier through which he had no chance of forcing the Lexus. He could pull over until the SUV was hard up against them, but if he did he would have to hang back, out of effective visual range of the entrance to the CIA Headquarters Complex, otherwise he risked immediate discovery and a long complicated explanation for his presence, and even possible arrest.

There wasn't much else he could do though, "Hang on Mac, it's going to get bumpy for a few seconds!" he warned his partner.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Chegwidden had made sure that the MP5 was secured in the fixed lock-box he'd had installed in the trunk of the Expedition before he'd crossed the parking lot and passed through the double glass doors of CIA Headquarters. With a nod of acknowledgement to the wall of black, anonymous stars, he crossed to the front desk and addressed the young, smartly dressed, brunette who sat in front of a computer monitor, a boom microphone and headset partially framing her face.

"Admiral A J Chegwidden, Navy JAG, to see Director Kershaw" he announced himself, and proffering his Navy ID at the same time.

"One moment please, sir," she replied somewhat doubtfully. High-ranking military officers were not entirely unknown at CIA Headquarters, but in Sarah Lawson's admittedly limited experience – she had only been employed at Langley for seven weeks – they usually wore their Alpha Uniforms, complete with fruit salad and badges, not what appeared to be a black fly-fisherman's vest over scruffy black overalls.

Her fingers flew rapidly over the keyboard and she scanned the results on the screen, a frown creasing her brow. "Do you have an appointment, sir? I'm afraid I can't see your name on the list…"

"No, no appointment!" Chegwidden rapped out, fidgeting impatiently from foot to foot.

"One more moment, please, sir." Sarah taped another couple of keys and then spoke softly into her microphone and listened to the reply before she looked worriedly up at the grim-faced officer looming over her. "I'm sorry, sir, Director Kershaw isn't available at the moment," she said nervously, "but if you'd like to make an appointment, or maybe take seat and I could see if I can track him down for you…"

"That won't be necessary, thank you." Chegwidden said grimly, "I know my way!" and turning on his heel he made his way across the parquet floor towards the double doors that guarded the CIA's inner sanctum.

Agent Tony Parnell was one of three agents who had been alerted by the silent alarm pressed by Sarah Lawson, and was the first of the three to respond, swiftly crossing the floor and interposing himself between the black-clad visitor and the doors for which he was obviously making.

"May I help you, sir?" he asked calmly.

"Yes! You can get out of my way!" Chegwidden told him calmly.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, sir. So, may I suggest that you just turn around and leave quietly, please?"

Chegwidden drew himself up to his full height, at least three inches taller than the young agent facing him, "Don't do this son!" he muttered.

Parnell looked at the older man, sure he was taller, and looked to be in pretty good shape, but Parnell had not long returned from Kabul where he'd been training the newly formed Afghan Police in unarmed combat and restraint techniques, and he had no doubt of being able to contain this situation, even without the assistance of the two agents who were now closing the distance between them and himself.

Chegwidden's eye turned into chips black ice, and he stepped right into Parnell's personal space, "You have got two choices, son," he almost whispered. "One choice sees you waking up tomorrow morning safe and sound in your own bed. The other choice sees you waking up – if you do – in a hospital bed. Now, which one is it going to be?"

Parnell gulped, suddenly the old man didn't seem so old anymore; he seemed to be radiating a power that had Parnell's every trained sense screaming 'danger'. The CIA agent's instinct for survival battled with his ego but his ego and his need not to be seen to back down in front of fellow agents made that option unthinkable and he opened his mouth to repeat his instruction for the Admiral to leave the premises.

Fortunately for the younger man, his dilemma was broken by a lazily drawled, "A J, I really would appreciate it if you didn't smear my staff all over the building. Blood's so difficult to get out of the woodwork, you know!"

Chegwidden didn't take his eyes off Parnell; "You shouldn't tell your minions to deny you to me and then try to stop me!" he grated out.

"Ah… an over protective 'minion' who took it upon himself to say that I wasn't available to you." Kershaw sighed, "I can only apologise, AJ, and assure you that the young man in question overstepped his authority! What can I say? It's so difficult to find good staff these days!" The CIA Director turned his attention to Parnell as the tension eased out of AJ's stance.

"Alright, Agent, I'll handle this!"

"If you're sure, Director?" Parnell asked. But then when no answer was forthcoming, he walked away in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner to re-join his colleagues, even while he was congratulating himself on a narrow escape.

"The old guy was lucky the Director showed up when he did!" he informed them with a show of bravado as he turned to watch Kershaw usher his visitor through the double doors, "I was just about to clean his clock!"

"Yeah, of course you were!" Agent Doubleday jeered, "Do you know who that was?"

Parnell assumed an air of 'what the hell' and he shrugged, "Nope, and I can't say I particularly cared."

"That's Admiral Chegwidden the Navy JAG!"

"So, he's a lawyer, and that means I should be scared of him outside the courtroom? I don't think so!" Parnell almost – but not quite – sneered.

"He's also a former SeAL," Doubleday answered dryly, "and has probably killed more men with his bare hands than all three of us have by any and every means!"

"Yeah,_ former_ SeAL!" Parnell managed disdainfully, 'Christ! That was close, thank you Director, for turning up in time to save my ass!'

Doubleday however watched the colour drain from the younger agents face and wasn't fooled, not all, not even for one second.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Kershaw escorted Chegwidden through the double doors and down a long hallway until, pausing before at another set of doors, he swiped his ID through a card reader and then too rapidly for Chegwidden to follow he punched a five digit number into the pad mounted next to the reader.

"Welcome to Ops inner sanctum, A J," he grinned, and then once more taking the lead he conducted the Admiral a short way along the hall, stopping in front of door that bore the sign 'Briefing Room'.

Opening the door he let A J into a room not unlike a college auditorium with banks of seats, about twenty of which were occupied, rising towards the rear of the room.

At the front of the room stood a podium, behind which waiting patiently stood a tough-looking man in his thirties, and behind him was an immense digital screen.

Kershaw indicated that A J should take one of the two vacant sets in the front row while he took the other. Once both men had settled, Kershaw said, "Carry on with the briefing, please, Agent Phelps."

"Mister Director," the agent standing behind the podium acknowledged the instruction and the pressed a remote control device set into the podium, and the screen behind him jumped into life. Chegwidden found himself staring at what was obviously a satellite view of a large house set in an area of what appeared to be open parkland, which in turn was surrounded by woodland, and A J squinted at the screen. Judging by the size of the vehicles in the image, the trees were set just too far back for anyone other than a trained sniper to be able to bring effective fire to bear onto the main building.

The other buildings, Agent Phelps explained were originally a couple of storage shed, a gardener's cabin and a stable, all of which were connected to main and house and to each other by a six feet high wall.

Chegwidden stopped himself from speculating and paid closer attention to the spoken part of the briefing. "Because of the current legislation, we cannot act openly or independently in this case. However, as it is our facility, our friends in the Bureau have graciously allowed us to participate…" Phelps paused for the semi-obligatory chuckle, "So field command will be exercise by Special Agent in Charge Fornell, while overall operational control will remain in the hands of our own Director. Radio frequency will be Tac Four, and we will use normal call-signs.

"Remember, our primary task is the safe evacuation of the three targets, with the secondary task being the capture or elimination of Kozlovsky and his men. I know we've been after Kozlovsky for years and the temptation to ignore all other considerations and go after him is immense, but it is the safety of the two naval personnel and a baby that must remain our primary consideration.

"And one last reminder. We have an agent on the inside, with Kozlovsky, he may well be present tonight, and he may have to fire in our direction in order to maintain his cover, as insurance should Kozlovsky not be taken down. His code name is Jester, and he is under orders to make himself known by that name only. If 'captured', Jester is to be restrained and blindfolded as with any other detainee. Are there any questions? Good. You have our assignments, let's roll!"

As the assembled agents, some of whom Chegwidden could now see were wearing FBI windcheaters began to gather their gear, Agent Fornell approached him.

"I suppose it was unrealistic to think that you wouldn't join us for the final act, Admiral."

"Damn' straight!" Chegwidden acknowledged.

"OK… well… we can't assign you to any particular fire team – you haven't had the full briefing, so you'd best stick to me. I take it you have transport and… ah… a weapon of some sort?"

"Yes, and yes!" Chegwidden snapped.

"Good. With your vehicle, that makes seven." Fornell looked around, "Agent Reid, you can ride with the Admiral, so you can tell him which vehicle is mine, he is to stay on my tail. Got it?"

"Got it!" the younger man replied.

"OK, Admiral, if you'll take Reid back to your vehicle, he'll direct you from there."

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Mac made a grab for the door strap as the SUV veered to the right and bumped along the grassed shoulder of the road for a few yards as Harm applied the brakes, bringing the vehicle as close in to the trees and bushes as he could without hitting a tree-trunk or any of the more substantial branches.

"Can't we get any closer?" Mac growled.

"That's it, dammit!" he ground out in frustration, "If we get any closer, we'll be made before we've been there more than five minutes."

"Yeah," Mac supplied sourly, "But we'll be damned lucky to pick up anyone we want at this distance!"

Harm gestured impatiently at the impenetrable wall of foliage against which he had pressed the Lexus, "There's no getting through that, Mac, and even this far back it's only partial cover…"

"Yeah, I know, I know… We've just got to play the hand we're dealt!" Mac agreed grumpily and slumping back against her seat she lapsed into silence for a minute or so before she sat up. "I wonder…" she murmured almost breathlessly, and then unclipping her seat belt, she leaned forward and opened the passenger's glove compartment.

Rummaging through the accumulation of articles stuffed into the small space she sat back with a smile of triumph on her lips, "I thought they might!" she crowed.

"Thought what might?" Harm frowned, squinting up the road at the traffic exiting the CIA complex.

"My birthday, last year!" Mac explained, "You took me to the opera – Cosi Fan Tutte!"

"That was the year before last," Harm objected, "But what's that got to do…?"

"My opera glasses!" Mac interrupted him with a grin, waving them under his nose. "Not ideal, but better than nothing!"

"I can't believe you remembered them!" Harm said in reluctant admiration as he lifted them to his face.

"And I can't believe you haven't cleaned out that glove compartment in eighteen months!" Mac retorted.

"Well, if I had, then you wouldn't have had the satisfaction of finding them, would you?" Harm asked reasonably.

"True… but there wasn't that much satisfaction in pulling the Navy's ass out the fire – again!" Mac quipped.

"You're never going to let that go, are you?" Harm groaned.

"Nope, I'm going to milk it for all its worth, - while I still can!" Mac smiled.

"Yeah, just the same as…" Harm started to reply and then the sense of Macs last few words made it from his ears to his brain. Taking the opera glasses from his eyes, he looked at her suspiciously and asked, "Just what do you mean, while you still can?" he demanded.

"Oh, crap…." Mac sighed, "Did I say that out loud?"

"Yep, you did, so c'mon Jarhead, out with it!"

Mac threw him a glare that should have had him withering on the vine, but fortunately for him, Harm had the opera glasses glued to his eyes and didn't see it.

"I gotta stop doing that!" Mac said and lapsed into silence.

Ham lowered the glasses and turned towards her, his expression serious. "OK, if it was about something trivial then you'd have told me already, so what's going on in that head of yours Mac?"

"If you really must know," she huffed, "I've been talking to my monitor. There's a billet coming up at Camp Lejeune and I've put my name forward for it. It's for a second tour Lieutenant Colonel as CO of the MP Battalion down there."

"Leave JAG?" Harm sounded faintly incredulous.

"Yeah. Look, I've been here six years already, that's twice the length of a normal tour, and I've been getting a vibe that if I don't jump, I'll be pushed."

Harm brought the glasses back up to his eyes, "Yeah… but… that's three years away from the law… You'll have a helluva time playing catch up when you step back into a courtroom…" Harm objected. He was vaguely aware that unlike the Navy, the Marine Corps classified their JAGs as line officers and so they were liable to a posting anywhere within the Corps, but it had always struck him as a ridiculous policy. In his opinion, the law wasn't something you could step away from for three years and then just step back into without a helluva lot of reading to do, and then there was the matter of becoming ring-rusty, and the risk of having your name and reputation forgotten.

"Harm, it's not that bad…"

"I remember once somebody telling me that if you had to say 'it's not that bad', then it probably is!"

"I was talking about your meatless meat loaf, not a career move!" Mac scolded him.

"How is this a career move?" Harm objected.

"Well… we all know I was dead lucky to make Light Colonel, right? And my chances of ever getting my Eagles are already pretty slim, but if I ever am going to make that step then I need command and staff appointments on my SRB, and Oh Five command appointments are pretty scarce either at JAG or in the Corps Jag Division. So from that point of view this is a career move! Besides which, an MP Battalion is still involved in the law, I'll keep up with the latest rulings and any amendments to Navy and Corps regulations, as well as the UCMJ!"

"OK, I'll grant you that," Harm conceded.

"So you see… if I stay where I am it'll be twenty and out, or if I stay put then they'll get me with the up or out regs! This is a golden opportunity to set the groundwork to extend past that!"

"You've really thought this through, haven't you?"

"I had to!" Mac protested.

"Yeah, I guess… I didn't really…"

"Heads up! Movement – and they're headed this way!"

They both tensed, their conversation put on the back burner, as they concentrated on what was happening two hundred yards down the road.

Harm kept the glasses pressed to his eyes as he counted the vehicles turning right onto the freeway from the complex entrance, "One, two, three, four, shit! That's the Admiral! Five, six, seven… Down!"

Mac dropped below the level of the dashboard as Harm shrunk back into the scanty concealment provided by the door pillar.

"Thank God the agency prefer Yukons, can you imagine trying to pick out the Admiral's car from a whole batch of black Expeds!" Harm grinned as he turned the key in the ignition and gunned the engine.

"No!" Mac yelped as the sudden acceleration threw her back in her seat.

Harm pulled straight out into the left hand lane, causing an outbreak of horn blasting and headlight flashing from outraged and alarmed drivers behind him as he indicated for the turn into the CIA's entry way.

The turn made, he didn't however stop, but tightened it until he faced west again, and pulling out into traffic he tucked in behind a mid-sized Ford sedan, from where he could keep an eye on the small convoy now nearly half a mile a head.

"You'll have to close some of this gap!" Mac said tersely.

"I know, I k now! This isn't quite the first tail I've been on!" Harm retorted with a grin.

"Damn! I hate it when you do that!" Mac moaned.

Harm chuckled.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Where the hell are we?" Mac demanded some two and a half hours later.

"God knows, somewhere in West Virginia, I guess!" Harm snapped, his patience worn thin by the mental effort he'd been forced to put in to keep in sight of the target vehicles, while hanging back sufficiently far enough so that they wouldn't be made. That task hadn't been made easier by the simple fact that each turn the convoy made took them, and their tail, on to less and less frequented roads. Now they were travelling through dense woodland down what was little more than a single lane road, too far back from the target for Harm to feel entirely comfortable. Worse it was now getting dark, and without white lines at the edge of the road to help guide him, he was going to have to turn on the vehicle lights, and that he was glumly certain was going to reveal their presence to the whole world.

Sitting forward and peering through the windscreen in an effort to keep on the asphalt as he negotiated a tight curve road only to slam the brakes on with an explosive "Shit!"

Inertia shoved Mac forward against the constraints of her seatbelt and was about to complain at the rough handling, when she saw enough through the gloom to make her realise why Harm had suddenly stopped.

"Two of 'em, at least!" she muttered, as two black-clad figures, each carrying an M-4 Carbine cautiously approached the Lexus.

"And more in the cars!" Harm agreed, nodding to the chicane consisting of two Yukons that had been the cause of him stopping in the first place.

"Hands out of the windows!" One of the approaching agents ordered.

With a helpless shrug towards Mac, Harm wound down his window and did as he'd been told and after a moment of fuming silently Mac scowlingly followed suit.

"Driver, open the door from the outside, get out of the vehicle and then turn to face it. Slowly!"

Once again Harm complied with the instructions he'd been given and without being told, he leaned forward with his hands on the side of the Lexus, bracing himself on spread legs and then waited while Mac followed suit.

A brisk pat down resulted in the cry of "Gun!" and Harm heard the unmistakable sound of a weapon being locked and loaded. Licking his lips, he said quietly, "Easy… I'm Commander Harmon Rabb, Navy JAG Corps." He nodded in Mac's direction, half afraid of her reaction should a male agent pat her down, "That's Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie, USMC, also JAG Corps, she's carrying too…"

"OK…" the voice was quiet but authoritative, "Colonel, using thumb and forefinger only, produce your weapon and hold it at arm's length out behind you…"

Mac scowled across the vehicle at Harm, but knowing she had no option she obeyed.

"I take it you have ID?" the calm voice continued.

"No need!" a familiar and highly pissed off voice interrupted, "They're who they say they are!"

"Admiral, sir…" Harm began.

"Lock it up Mister!" Chegwidden's voice betrayed his almost concealed anger, "Just what the hell do you think you're playing at?"

"Investigating, sir!" Mac came to Harm's defence.

"Investigating what?" Chegwidden rasped.

"Investigating why you sent Tiner to get you an MP5, sir! And to find out whether you needed back up or not sir!"

"Did it occur to you Mister Rabb, that if I felt I needed your back up, I would have mentioned it to you?"

"Yessir! But… Admiral, sir, it's my wife and my family in there…"

Chegwidden's voice remained terse and tense, "I am aware of that Mister Rabb and that is exactly why I did not ask you or you, Colonel, to accompany me on this mission!"

"Sir, with respect, we couldn't let you go in alone!" Mac interjected.

"Does it look like I'm alone, Colonel?" Chegwidden suddenly yelled, indicating the assorted FBI and CIA agents lurking in the background.

"Sir, again, with respect, they are just spooks! Can you really rely on them to have your back? Not to leave you behind if the dill pickles?" Mac persisted

Chegwidden opened his mouth to blast them both but was prevented by a hand on his shoulder.

"OK, so we didn't invite them to the party Admiral," Agent Fornell pointed out in reasonable tones, "But then again, you kind of gate-crashed it yourself! They're here now, so they might as well tag along, and much as you'd like to tear them up one side and down the other, we can't afford the time. At least now we know our tail isn't hostile."

Chegwidden nodded reluctantly, "OK, it's your Op, but you two," he glared at Harm and Mac, "haven't heard the last of this, not by half you haven't!"

"Nosir!" Harm and Mac chorused.

Fornell did his best to hide a grin as he turned to the agents who had frisked Harm and relieved Mac of her side arm, "Give 'em their weapons back, and let's get this show back on the road!"

Harm and Mac received their weapons and stowed them away and turned back towards the Lexus to be ready to move one the blocking Yukon had manoeuvred out of the way.

Fornell headed back to his own vehicle, but was stopped by the senior CIA Agent, Marcus Phelps, "Fornell, this location is highly classified and on a need to know basis! We can't just drag along every sailor and marine we meet along the way."

Fornell stopped, "Yeah, I know. But two points: Both Colonel MacKenzie and Commander Rabb have a pretty high level of security clearance and both have skills that might come in useful, and secondly as Commander Rabb pointed out, that is his family in there. Do you want to try and stop them from joining our little party?"

"Lawyers?" Phelps asked incredulously.

"Yeah, lawyers," Fornell grinned, "But you might want to read their unredacted files one day – assuming your clearance is high enough!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Gloria tensed and threw a worried frown in the direction of the two Rabb women as the sound of gunfire intensified and grew nearer. "Give me a hand with the beds!" she instructed Loren, "The mattresses might help!"

Loren immediately grasped what the CIA Agent had in mind, and within a few seconds both beds had been turned on their sides to provide a minimum of cover and Jen had packed the pillows around Sasha's porta crib.

Gloria nodded and then turned off the lights before climbing over the makeshift breastworks. "Makes them silhouetted against the outside light," she said with a calm coolness she certainly didn't feel. This wasn't the first time she'd been in a tight spot, but that didn't make her feel at ease with the situation.

All three women now hunkered down behind the mattresses and Gloria pulled her weapon from its holster and worked the action, feeding a round into the chamber, "You got your weapon?" she asked Loren.

Loren, who had her hand in the side pocket of the diaper bag pulled out her Sigma, and following Gloria's example, racked a round into the breech.

Gloria nodded approvingly and turned to Jen, "Loren said you had a weapon at home, can you handle a pistol?"

Jen nodded and tried to answer but found her throat was suddenly dry. Swallowing convulsively she nodded and then managed a hoarse "Damn straight!"

Gloria looked at her levelly for a moment or two and then nodded in her turn. Drawing the cuff of her pants' leg up a little, she took her back up from its ankle holster, "Here, you've got a seven round clip loaded in it. Don't use it all at once!" she ended with a quip, privately thinking that if any of them had to use a full clip, the odds on them getting out of this situation still in a vertical position would have shrunk dramatically.

Jen, squinting in the dusk light coming in through the window, quickly checked out the safety and the magazine release catch on the small weapon, and then following the example set by Gloria and Loren she locked and loaded.

All three women took up position behind the barricade in silence, all preoccupied with their own thoughts. Loren gritted her teeth, 'I am not going down without a fight!'

Jen felt her eyes flood, 'If this goes wrong, what will happen to Harm? He'll be so mad at me!' while Gloria, unwittingly shared those of Clayton Webb as he crouched behind one of the pillars that fronted the house's main entrance: 'How the hell did Kozlovsky find us this time?'


	59. Under Siege

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter ****59  
>Under Siege<strong>

Mac grudgingly climbed into the centre seat of the Lexus, making room in front for the agent detailed to watch over herself and Harm. Neither knew whether he was CIA or FBI, and neither of them cared. To them his only value was that he was in radio communication with the rest of vehicles.

The convoy started out again, this time with the Lexus sandwiched between two Yukons and once rolling, and to Harm's disgust, kept to a sedate thirty miles an hour.

After about twenty minutes, Harm was fretting. "For God's sake!" he gritted from between clenched teeth, "Can't these damn people drive any faster!"

"We're getting near," the agent told him, "We need to keep engine noise down!"

Harm nodded accepting the reason, but still not liking the idea as he peered through the windscreen trying to follow the vehicle in front as the driver turned his lights out and then swung the vehicle off the road.

"Turn your lights off!" the agent hissed, and automatically Harm obeyed the command and immediately lost vision.

"Crap!" Harm swore, taking his foot off the accelerator as he attempted to see where the Yukon was. Almost too late, he saw it halted in front of him, and swearing and sweating, he stamped on the brakes, swung the wheel to avoid hitting it and slid to a halt.

"OK... we're on foot from here on in!" their babysitter told them, "We're tactical from this point on – if you know what that means!"

They dismounted from the Lexus and hung back a little as the group of agents formed into four man teams and in accordance with the instructions they had been given at the briefing, they moved out left and right to begin the advance on their objective.

Harm,and Mac were left with Admiral Chegwidden and Agent Fornell, who grinned mirthlessly at them, "Well, looks like I've got me a strategic reserve! Stay with me, we'll make straight for the house... well, as straight as we can. I understand that there are..."

Whatever he had been about to say he never finished as a distinct 'whoosh' was heard and a streak of light shot into the air the other side of the belt of woods in which the convoy had parked, to explode into a ball of light which revealed the miniature parachute from which hung and made a gentle parabola as it descended towards earth.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Agent Wheeler leaned back against the stone wall of the old stables from where, by peering around the corner he had a good view of the parkland that ended in the trees some six hundred yards away. Or, he told himself, he would have a good view if it hadn't been as black as pitch!

He was debating whether he could risk ducking back into the stables and have the cigarette he was desperately craving. No matter how much he tried not to think of it, the nagging was always there. He had just about beaten down the temptation when he heard a muffled 'crack' and a parachute flare shot into the sky as someone or something blundered into one of the carefully laid trip wires.

His heart pounding, Wheeler drew his Glock and dropping into a kneeling position, worked the slide, feeding a round into the chamber and then stuck his head around the wall to see three of four black-clad figures running frantically towards the outbuildings that concealed him and the other three agents on his team.

Before he could make a decision, two shots in quick succession rang out as one of his men two-tapped at the distant figures. The running men threw themselves to the ground and opened up a heavy burst of automatic fire in the general direction of Wheeler and his men

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The one-eyed man jumped as the flare shot into the sky and instinctively reached for his own weapon as small arms fire shattered the quiet of the West Virginia night. In the light of the flare he saw at least one of Kozlovsky's men crumple to the ground. But he was taken aback not only by the volume of fire the others returned, but by Kozlovsky's grin.

"Is good!" the Russian grunted. "Is very good! Now The Wolf can hunt free while CIA play with his men! Come, my friend!"

Running in a crouch, Kozlovsky, the one-eyed man and two of the Russian's thugs made a direct line for the house, angling in so that their path would keep them clear of the developing gun fight that focused on the outbuildings.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Webb!" Wheeler shouted into his wrist microphone, "They've got automatic weapons!"

Clayton Webb had turned towards Gloria the second the gunfire started. "Get 'em under cover!" he ordered, "I'll take the front door!"

Wheeler's frantic shout penetrated to his brain, "I know, dammit! I've got ears!" he shouted back into his own microphone.

Heading for the front door, Webb paused for a second to flick off the light switch in the lobby before he slipped out on to the unlit porch and hunkered down behind one of the pillars that supported the portico and the second floor balcony. Breathing deeply, he unholstered his side arm and cocked it, and then waiting in the shadows he tried to make sense of what was happening in the grounds ahead and to either side of him.

He wished now he'd had a couple of extra agents to protect the rear of the house. If Kozlovsky's men got around the out buildings then anyone in the house would be a sitting duck.

Webb was in a cold sweat, he was under no illusions, the gunfire was spread in an arc from left across his front to his right. His men were outnumbered and out-gunned, the end was inevitable, and couldn't be delayed for much longer. He grinned, a tight-lipped effort devoid of amusement. Maybe it was better this way than surviving to face censure from his superiors which would probably end in his being disgraced and fired. He realised that he had screwed the pooch, big time, this time around and forgiveness would not be coming his way any time soon. And if he was dead then he wouldn't have to face Rabb if anything happened to either Jennifer or Loren Rabb. He knew that he had tried Rabb's patience too many times in the past and doubted that if the worst came to the worst that even the Admiral wouldn't be able to restrain his officer. It was not a prospect he relished, Harm over topped him and outweighed him by a considerable degree, and that, he thought, was if Rabb contented himself with seeking unarmed retribution.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Shit!" Fornell swore viciously as he gazed up at the flare. He then swore again as two rapid reports were followed by what seemed to be a sustained burst of automatic fire. Raising his wrist to his mouth he spoke rapidly, "All teams, go! Go! Go !"

Immediately the darkness ahead of his small group was disturbed by rapid movement as the combined FBI and CIA fire teams moved forward at a rapid trot, crashing through the undergrowth and abandoning all pretence of stealth.

Harm fidgeted and fretted for a few moments hardly calmed by Chegwidden's growled, "Easy Commander!"

Even Mac's urgent "Breathe, Harm, breathe!" did nothing to calm him, and after fuming for a few seconds, swung back up into the Lexus and shouted "Come on!"

"Rabb! What the...Where are you going?" Chegwidden shouted as the engine burst into life.

"I'm going for my wife!" Harm yelled back.

"Rabb! You can't..." Fornell shouted helplessly.

"Watch me!" Harm retorted and then looked straight at Mac, "Coming, Sundance?" he challenged her.

With a muffled, "Ohhh, Fuck!" Mac leaped for the centre door of the Lexus as Harm started to reverse, and with a despairing look at Fornell, Chegwidden ran a couple of steps and threw open the front passenger door. Hopping on one leg as the Lexus picked up speed he hauled himself, slightly winded, into the passenger seat, and unslung his MP5.

"You know you're probably going to get us all killed!" he demanded as Harm swerved the Lexus, its headlights ablaze, through the trees, running over smaller shrubs and causing at least two agents to make hasty dives put of his path.

"If I do, it'll be in a blaze of glory, right Mac?" he yelled over his shoulder.

Mac grimly held on to the door strap as she pulled her Beretta from her waistband and cocked it. "Right, Butch!" she agreed, her eyes alight with excitement, "Let's go get 'em!"

"You're both insane!" Chegwidden exclaimed as he tried to make head or tail of the partners' conversation.

"Well... you invited yourself on this jaunt, admiral!" Harm retorted.

"I did that!" Chegwidden agreed as he flicked on the laser red-dot aiming device and checked he had a full magazine fitted to the Heckler-Koch, "Must make me as crazy as you!" Satisfied that his weapon was ready, he wound down his window and waited for a target as the Lexus bounced through the woods and then broke free onto the grass.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Wheeler took another shot at one of the approaching shadowy figures and was rewarded by a long burst of fire which hit the stable wall near his head, spattering his face with stone chippings. He ducked back into the building and raised his wrist to his mouth, "Stone! Vasquez! Fall back to the stables! On me! On me!" he shouted."

As hard as he listened there was no reply and he strained his eyes as he peered at the doorway, looking for a hint of a shape that would offer him a target. He was down to his last magazine and couldn't afford to waste any rounds. He heard what sounded like Russian, then an object flew through the doorway and bounced and then rolled towards him. Some instinct warned him what it was and he threw himself frantically to the side as the grenade exploded.

Webb heard the muffled explosion and his eyes were drawn to the direction of the stables where he made out three murky figures moving in a couch towards the house. In a moment of clarity it seemed strange to him that as the raiders – whoever they were – overran his men's positions that the sound of firing should increase rather than decrease. He failed to see the other three men rushing from the shadows to his left until the last minute, spinning in his kneeling position Webb squeezed off three rounds and had the satisfaction of seeing one of the figures stagger and fall.

The next thing he knew was the roar of an engine at peak revs, a blaze of light and almost simultaneously a round from Kopzlovsky's Desert Eagle smashed his leg, feeling like a hammer blow to his left thigh that picked him and threw him backwards as his world dissolved into pain.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm fought the wheel of the Lexus as it roared across the grass towards the house, his entire focus on getting to Jen before anything happened to her. He was barely conscious of the Admiral leaning out of the passenger window and loosing off a short burst at at a shadowy figure that loomed up in the headlights' beam, or seconds later, a longer burst that took down three more figures running towards the house from the direction of the stable yard.

Mac too had her window wound down and was searching for targets, and as he scanned the area she caught a glimpse of movement in the headlights, "On the porch!" she screamed. Chegwidden craned around the door pillar as much as he was able, but couldn't get a clear shot.

Rabb slammed on the brakes and Chegwidden was out of the vehicle almost before it came to a stop, Mac was right behind him, and closely followed by Harm as they ran through the doorway into the lobby.

The sight of a closing door ahead of them spurred them into renewed action, and Admiral in the lead they charged onwards, through the doorway and into what seemed to be a lounge at the far side of which another door was thrown open.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Gloria licked her lips as the sound of movement came closer, her ears told her there were more than one intruder, "I'll take number one!" she told Loren and Jen, "You take two, and you Jen, take number three if there is one!"

The door crashed open and Gloria fired by reflex, but her shot went wide and hit the door frame, the burly man she'd fired at grinned and raised his weapon. The muzzle blast and flash of the fifty calibre Desert Eagle was almost stunning in that small room, and the heavy bullet smashed into Gloria slamming her back against the far wall before she slid to the ground.

At the same instant that Gloria fired Loren fired at the second man to enter, her round hitting him at the base of the throat and knocking him backwards into the third man, but clearing Jen's line of sight, she squeezed the trigger twice in rapid succession and saw her target, a bald-headed man wearing an eye-patch, go down. So fast had they fired that all four shots almost merged into one.

Loren saw Gloria hit from the corner of her eye and spun to face the grinning gunman who raised his massive pistol towards her, Loren squeezed the trigger and her Sigma jammed. She didn't even have time to be scared as the broad faced man's grin became wider and he took careful aim. Before he could shoot, however a three round burst of fire sounded from outside the room and his head dissolved in a spray of blood, bone and brains.

Jen who had been prevented from shooting by Loren's body, dropped her weapon and threw herself towards Gloria, staring in horror at the bloody mess that had been the CIA agent's chest, "Oh God..." Jen whimpered, hardly hearing the shout of "Friends!".

Loren worked frantically at the slide on her pistol but gave it up as a bad job as he saw that the empty casing from her first round had failed to eject and was stuck half in and half out of the weapon's chamber, but the shout made her go weak at the knees as she recognised the gruff voice of Admiral Chegwidden.

The room became filled with bodies and Jen felt strong hands on her arms lifting her to her feet and looking up stared unbelievingly into the face of her husband, "Oh, Harm..." was all she managed before he cut her off with as firm but kind, "Later, Jen, later! Go, sit down with Loren!"

Numbly she did as she was told, picking up her discarded weapon as she did so while Harm looked down at Mac who had dropped to her knees next to Gloria. Mac looked up meeting his gaze and gently shook her head, and then looking down again she gently closed Gloria's staring eyes and taking one of the sheets from the pile of rumpled bedding equally gently covered her with it.

Chegwidden who stood guard by the door risked a glance over his shoulder, "All OK?"

"Sir," Harm replied, "One casualty, two hostiles down..." a groan from the outer room made him cock his Beretta, "Make that three hostiles," he grimly amended.

"Stand down, Commander!" Chegwidden ordered and advanced cautiously a couple of feet into the other room. There was enough light spilling into it for him to see a blood stained figure, a pistol near his hand, slumped on the floor against one of the over-stuffed armchairs. He kicked the weapon out of reach and and gave the one-eyed man a cursory inspection. Whoever had shot him had hit him twice, once in the upper right arm and once in the shoulder.

The one eyed man rolled his head so that he could focus on Chegwidden and with what, to the Admiral's fury and surprise, seemed like a grin, he uttered one word "Jester!"

In the meantime Mac had crouched down with Jen and Loren, the latter now occupied in calming her terrified baby, whose cries had up until now been disregarded in favour of survival.. Loren had one arm occupied with Sasha, while with the other she hugged a bitterly sobbing Jen. Loren's own face was white and marked with tear tracks, but the need to look after Sasha, and to a lesser extent Jennifer, had helped her pull it together, at least temporarily as she listened to Mac's urgent whispers of reassurance.

Harm tapped Mac on the shoulder, and she rose from her knees to allow Harm to sink down and hold his arms out to Jen, with a sob she buried her face in his shoulder and wept while he gently rubbed her back as she rode out her emotional storm.

Mac had thrown another pair of sheets over the two dead Russians before she moved to the door in order to give the three Rabbs some privacy, and saw to her surprise that the Admiral was tying a rudimentary bandage around the upper arm of one of the Russians.

"Admiral, sir?" she queried.

"This is Jester – or so he claims!" Chegwidden grunted as he picked up the other's weapon. "Help me get him inside!"

Jester groaned in pain as he was hauled, none too gently it must be admitted, to his feet and with an arm around Mac's shoulder he was led to the relative safety of the barricade. He slowly slid down the wall and sat still for a moment or two with his eye shut as he fought against the pain. Opening his eye he looked up at Mac and mouthed, "Thanks!" before his eye fell on the sheet covered shape not two feet away from him. "Who?" he asked.

"An agent, I assume," Mac said. "I never heard her name..."

"It was Gloria," Loren spoke up, throwing her voice over her shoulder, her back to the rest of them, as she offered Sasha the comfort of her breast.

Jester groaned, and carefully leaning over he gently lifted a corner of the sheet and stared at Gloria for a long moment before he as gently replaced it. "Gloria Heywood. She was a good agent." he confirmed and then shook his head, "I'm sorry, I didn't have time to get a shot off at Kozlovsky once Blatov went down." he tried for a grin that ended up more as frown as a wave of pain washed through him.

"Why didn't you shoot him before?" Jen demanded, lifting her face from Harm's shoulder.

Jester turned to look at her, "Two reasons. One I had a job to do, and that was to try and take him alive if possible, and two, he didn't fully trust me. Blatov kept himself between me and Kozlovsky at all times and there was another goon, I didn't catch his name who kept his eye on me the whole time!"

"Where is the other guy now?" Harm demanded.

"He went down outside, someone on the porch shot him!"

"Quiet! Listen!" the Admiral commanded from the doorway.

"I don't hear anything," Mac objected.

"Exactly... the shooting's stopped.

The tension in the room went up at least three notches and Harm. Masc and the Admiral all looked at each other and then as if by some silent consensus each checked their weapon.

Chegwidden looked doubtfully at Jester for a few seconds, and then said roughly, "No offence, but I don't think I'll trust you with a weapon just yet." The Admiral paused for a few seconds, "Hell, I don't care if you do take offence! I still ain't going to trust you!"

"I could use it, Admiral," Loren said, still white faced, but apparently calm. "My weapon jammed!"

The Admiral raised an eyebrow at that piece of news, but passed her Jester's Glock and kept a careful eye on her as she went through the normal safety precautions and then checked magazine and safety. "It'll do sir!" she said to the admiral.

Chegwidden's eyes crinkled in what might have been a grin of approval, 'So will you, Lieutenant, so will you!' he said to himself.

The four armed members of the little group – including Jen, hunkered down again behind the mattresses and waited in nervous expectation. They were not kept waiting long.

"Hallo, the house..." The low pitched voice carried the length of the outer room from the lobby.

"Identify yourself!" Chegwidden commanded, readying his MP5.

"Tobias Fornell, FBI Special Agent in Charge!"

"That's Fornell, all right," Chegwidden agreed, relaxing, and then raised his voice, "Come on in Fornell!"

Fornell was silhouetted for an instant in the door way before he entered the lounge and flicked on the light switch. "All OK in there?" he asked as he crossed the room.

"One agent down, two hostiles down, and someone claiming to be Jester wounded!" Chegwidden told him gruffly.

Fornell reached the doorway and looked at the wrecked room, "damn!" he swore as his eyes fell on Gloria, "Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn!" He lifted his wrist to his mouth as he spotted the length of pillow case that had been wrapped around Jester's arm and shoulder, "We need a medic in here!" he commanded as he crossed to the wounded CIA agent.

"How's it going?" he asked coolly.

"Hurts like a bitch!" Jester grinned wryly.

"Yeah, they tell me bullet wounds do that!" Fornell grinned back, but then he became serious, "We owe you for this. If it hadn't been for you, we wouldn't have known this was going down tonight."

Jester nodded, "Hell, don't tell me, tell my boss!" He looked carefully at Fornell, "You FBI?"

"Yep!"

Jester thought for a moment and then made up his mind. "Check Kozlovsky's body. He's got a cell 'phone on him. He's also got an informant in the CIA, that's how he found this place. He used the cell to talk to him – or her. The number should be stored in the phone's memory!"

"You're telling me, instead of your own people?" Fornell asked incredulously.

"Hell, yes! The informant could be anyone at Langley. For all I know, it could be the very person I tell!"

"You've got a point," Fornell agreed. He knelt by Kozlovsky's body, drawing the sheet to one side and after pulling a face at what was left of the Russian mobster's head, he patted him down and retrieved the phone from an inside jacket pocket. Fornell nodded his appreciation, stood and turned to leave, but he hesitated and swung back, "Just one more thing, why Jester?"

"Because of my name," the one-eyed man grinned sourly, "My name is Kort."

Fornell's forehead creased in a frown and then cleared as he made the connection. "Really?" he asked, "Kort Jester?"

The one eyed man nodded, "Hey it wasn't my idea!" he defended himself.

"I should hope not!" Fornell said and he left the room, shaking his head.

"Wait! Just hold on there!" Chegwidden called after him, and with a nod to the others, he slung his MP5 over his shoulder and hurried after the FBI Agent.

Fornell turned to face him, a long-suffering expression on his face, "What is it Admiral?"

"What the hell happened out there?" Chegwidden demanded.

"There was a fire fight. In the dark. Things got confused. They are still confused. We have wounded; our own and hostiles. We have called for medevac helicopters – dust-offs I believe you call them."

"A long time ago!" Chegwidden grunted

Fornell continued as if the Admiral hadn't spoken, "We have dead," he nodded in the direction of the inner room, "Including the agent in there, nine that we know of. There might be more, and at least a dozen wounded" he finished bleakly.

Harm had seen the Admiral follow Fornell, and slipping his arm from around Jen's shoulder, he gently raised her chin with a long finger, "I'll be back in a minute, sweetheart," he told her, and then looked at Mac, "Look after them for bit, hey?"

"You go on, Flyboy. I'm sure they'll take good care of me!"

Harm smiled and nodded his thanks and slipped into the lounge, arriving just in time to hear Fornell's statement. "Where's Webb?" Harm demanded, "He's the one most responsible for this... this... mess!"

"He's on the porch," Fornell answered, and as Harm turned to make for the front door the FBI man added, "With the rest of the wounded."

Harm stopped, "He's hit?"

Fornell nodded.

"Hit bad?" Harm persisted.

"Well, I wouldn't want what he's got!" Fornell replied with a touch of macabre humour.

Harm stood in thought for a few moments while Admiral and FBI agent watched him curiously. At length Harm sighed, "I don't suppose I can go and kick his ass right now, then?"

"I doubt it." Fornell said dryly.

"In that case, sir," Harm came to a brace and spoke to the Admiral, "With your permission, I'd like to take my family home! We'll drop Mac off at her place on the way."

Admiral looked at FBI agent, "I've got no problem with that Admiral," Fornell spoke, "and it's probably best to get them out of there. But I will want to debrief you – all of you – as soon as we can set it up!" he cautioned them.

"And I will debrief you – and the Colonel – tomorrow morning in my office at zero eight hundred hours!" Chegwidden told him, a bleak look of warning accompanying his words, letting Harm know that his chief was still displeased at his earlier actions..

"Aye, aye,sir!" Harm responded.

"Very well, Mister Rabb, dismissed!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Harm repeated and then about faced and headed for the inner room. "Up you get sweetheart!" he said cheerfully to a still pale and shaken Jen, "We're going home! Loren, can I give you a hand with anything? Mac, we'll drop you off in Georgetown on the way!"

He stood back as the women of his family gathered their gear together and then wincing under the weight they loaded into his arms, he said, "Come on then... it's a good job the car's at the front door!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

It didn't take too many minutes for the Rabb family to load themselves and their gear into the Lexus, and once Harm and Loren were satisfied that Sasha's car seat was secure, he excused himself and walked back up the steps to the porch where medic trained FBI and CIA agents were attempting to triage the wounded. Harm made his way along the row until he came to Webb. The spook was propped against the wall, his eyes closed and his white face a mask of pain and a bandage wrapped around his leg from groin to knee, his expensive suit pants having been slit down to the ankle to allow the medics to work on his wound.

Harm was surprised that he felt no sympathy for Webb and reflected that it was the spook's own incompetence that had led him , had led them, all to this point. He had a feeling that Webb's days were numbered at the agency. Nine dead agents were not going to look good on his resume!

Shaking his head, he returned to the Lexus to find the rest of the party strapped into their seats and waiting for him. Mac in the front passenger seat and Jen and Loren in the centre seats with Sasha's car seat between them. "Ready ladies? he quipped. And without waiting for a reply he fired the engine and slowly drove along the gravelled road that led to the front gates.

Once clear of the house he was surprised to see a faint tinge of pink in the sky ahead as he headed East back towards DC, he hadn't realised that it was nearly dawn... which reminded him, "Mac?"

"H'mm?" she replied drowsily.

Harm checked the rear view mirror to see that both Jen and Loren had their eyes closed and were breathing deeply. Satisfied that what he was about to say wouldn't be heard by them and cause them any more upset, he turned back to Mac, "The Admiral wants us in his office at zero eight hundred. I suspect we're in for an ass chewing!"

Mac opened her eyes, "It wouldn't surprise me!" she said and then looked askance at him, "How do I keep on letting you talk me into these harebrained stunts!"

"Me talk you into it?" he demanded in disbelief, "Mac, you know damned well that you rushed into this of your own accord! I couldn't keep you put of it!"

"Well... someone has to watch your six!" Mac protested.

"Huh!" Harm grunted, and then checked the rear view mirror to make sure that Jen and Loren were still asleep. "And do you know, after all that, I didn't even get to fire a single round!"

Mac looked at him in surprise, "Squids!" she said scornfully.

Harm just grinned, knowing that her outward show of bravado was her way of dealing with the night's events.


	60. Reprimand and Retribution

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 60  
>Reprimand and Retribution<strong>

The drive back to DC was silent for the most part, Loren and Jen, and thankfully for the moment Sasha too, were all asleep on the middle seat of the Lexus, and even Mac was dozing, her head drooping forward as Harm piloted the SUV back eastwards, guiding by the rising sun than by either map, road signs or knowledge of the area.

Even so, it as with relief that after nearly an hour of driving along minor routes, he picked up the road signs for Clarksburg, West Virginia and realised that not only would he soon be back in familiar territory. But that the CIA led convoy the night before had taken a somewhat more circuitous, longer and slower route than was necessary. Harm wondered why that would have been the case and started seething when he came to the conclusion that it was probably an attempt on the Agency's part to keep the location of that safe-house a secret, not caring that any undue delay was putting the lives at risk of those very people they were supposed to be protecting.

He gritted his teeth in an effort not to scream his anger out loud, that would have woken the sleepers and would have undoubtedly frightened Sasha into adding her own cries and wails, and the one thing he could do without right now was a crying baby.

His tension somehow communicated itself to Mac and she roused from her drowsiness, blinked the sleep from her eyes and asked quietly, "Something wrong?"

"Yeah... we've been on the road for just about an hour, and we're already nearly at Clarksburg... those damn spooks led us all over the country last night... added at least an hour to the drive by my reckoning..."

Mac was, if anything and despite the lingering effects of her nap, slightly quicker off the mark than Harm. "Those bastards, they deliberately put Jennifer and... and... Lieutenant Rabb at risk!"

In spite of his resentment, Harm managed a grin of sorts, it seemed that Mac just couldn't bring herself to call Loren by her first name.

Mac's forehead furrowed in thought as she consulted a mental map of the region, "Which route are you taking?"

"Clarksburg, Grafton, Augusta, Winchester and Leesburg," Harm replied.

Mac checked her inner clock and then shook her head, "Considering where we are, and how far we are from DC, we're going to be late for our chewing out!"

"Probably!" Harm agreed, "But it can't be helped. And seeing that we left before the Admiral, and I haven't exactly been hanging about, we should still get there before him!"

"What if he flew back to Falls Church? I heard Fornell say there were helos on the way in..." Mac demurred.

"Nope, his Expedition was there, and I don't see him letting anyone else drive it, not after that thing with Danny Walden!"

"H'mm... true... You know I hate being late... and the Admiral is going to hate it even more if we are!"

"I'm doing all I can, Mac. I don't want to end up with a bunch of speeding tickets from three different states!"

"No... I s'pose not," Mac agreed as she adjusted her position in her seat and tilting her head back against the head rest, closed her eyes again.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm dropped Mac off at her apartment block and contrary to his usual practice barely waited until she was inside the door before he re-engaged the Lexus' drive and headed for Falls Church. He had wanted to come back and collect Mac, but had eventually let himself be persuaded that she was quite capable of taking the metro and bus from Georgetown to JAG.

The stop and start had however woke Sasha, whose grizzling as she became aware of her wet, dirty and uncomfortable condition also woke both Loren and Jen. So by the time Harm pulled up outside the house on Annandale Road he was in the company of three sleepily irritable young ladies.

"OK, we're home," he said tiredly and knowing that he was unnecessarily stating the obvious as he switched off the engine.

Dismounting from the vehicle, he unlocked the door to the house, to find himself facing the two night-shift FBI agents, each holding their weapons at the ready.

"Put 'em down guys and give me a hand here, will you please?" he asked as he turned back to the vehicle to help Jen and Loren out of the car. He gave Jen a quick hug and a kiss on the forehead, "Go on inside, sweetheart," he whispered to her, "I'll deal with all this..." he indicated the untidy mess of sea bags, carrier bags and diaper bag that littered the trunk area of the SUV. Turning next to Sasha, he gently moved a fumbling Loren out of the way and deftly unsnapped the straps securing the baby's car seat, "Come on, young lady, he spoke soothingly to the still unhappy infant, "Let's get you and your mommy inside, too." He looked over his shoulders at the two FBI men who had followed him from the house, "Guys, I know you're not porters, but could you empty the trunk, please? Just drop whatever's there in the lobby..."

He gave Loren an arm to lean on as carrying the car seat he headed back to the house.

The two FBI Agents looked at each other. The taller one grinned said, "What the hell," and holstered his weapon.

"Yeah, carrying a couple of bags sure beats a shoot-out any day of the week!" his partner replied, shouldering the diaper bag and grabbing one of the sea-bags in his other hand.

Harm and Loren followed Jen into the living room, where the two women, both looking pale and drawn collapsed onto the couch. Loren looked at her crying daughter, still in the car seat, that Harm had placed on the occasional table. "Oh, Sasha, darling... don't... please..." she murmured as her hands went to the straps fastening her daughter into the seat.

Once she had released Sasha, Loren took her in her arms and started to get up, intending to head for the bathroom.

"No... stay where you are, Loren, use the coffee table, it won't hurt for this once," Harm told her.

"Yes, screw the coffee table!" Jen agreed.

Loren smiled gratefully as Harm whipped the car seat out of the way, and with a "One moment..." he went out to the lobby, returning in short order with the diaper bag.

"Just before you begin, ladies," Harm said, giving himself a mental head-slap for not calling the circumstances to mind earlier, "Are either of you still armed?"

Jen and Loren gave each a stricken glance, before Loren delved into the depths of the diaper bag and retrieved her Sigma and a Glock, "Careful, the Glock is loaded, and the Sigma is jammed," she cautioned Harm.

Harm was far more concerned , however when Jen brought the Kel-Tec PF-9 from her waist band, "Is that thing loaded?" he asked aghast.

Jen looked at the weapon as if surprised that she still had it, but seeing the magazine still in place, she could only nod and say numbly, "Yes, I think so..."

Harm fought down a rising tide of fury. He wanted to blast Jen for her carelessness, but he also knew that she was probably still very much in shock in the aftermath of her first fire-fight – a fire-fight at murderously close range at that – and from the death in front of her eyes of someone she knew.

"OK..." he said instead as he gingerly took the pistols from them, and taking his own M-9 from his pocket he carried them all into the den, where sitting at his desk, he carefully unloaded all four weapons and made them safe. Placing the PF-9, the Glock and the M-9 in his lock box, he took out his cleaning kit, and removed the slide and slide cover from the Sigma, then screwing together both halves of his cleaning rod, he wrapped one end of it in a piece of flannelette and sliding it, wrapped end first, into the barrel, he picked up the brass paper weight from his desk and gave the other end of the rod three sharp taps. The jammed cartridge case shot free and skittered across the desk, coming to rest against the foot of the flat-screen computer monitor. Harm picked it up and whistled softly as he saw that the case split from rim to neck. He nodded in understanding of how the Sigma with its reputation for reliability had jammed. The split case had swollen enough to jam half-in and half out of the chamber, and the blow back action of the round had been insufficient to un-jam it.

He sat back, stifling a yawn as fatigue and the stress of the night began to catch up with him. He knew he ought to clean the weapons, but he figured that with the exception of the M-9 they would have to wait until he was rested.

Giving the unused weapon a cursory wipe over, he placed it and the two full magazines in the lock box, and making a mental note to collect it when he left for Falls Church, he went back to the lounge.

Loren had a clean, dry and changed Sasha at her breast, while Jen sat staring dully at nothing. Hoping that it was fatigue that was making her so, he forced a smile, and said, "Either of you ladies want a hot drink, or are you both ready for some sleep?"

"Oh... I can't sleep," Loren objected, "I've got to get ready for duty... I'm going to be so late!"

"Listen to me, Lieutenant!" Harm snapped. "You are not reporting for duty today. You are going to get some rest so that when you do report for duty tomorrow you're fit enough to make a useful contribution! Do you hear?"

"Yeah, but... I need to... to..."

"Was there something in what I just said that made it sound like a suggestion, Lieutenant?"

"No.. but..."

"Good! Then you'll do as you are ordered and stay home and get some damned rest! Understood?"

Loren couldn't help the twitch of her lips as she replied, "Yes, sir!"

"Good that's settled! Now, the same for you, young lady!" He told Jen in equally severe accents.

"Yeah, I am tired," Jen admitted wanly, "But you've got to be tired too!"

Harm nodded, "I am, but the Admiral wants to see me and Mac first thing!" He looked at his watch and cracked a grin, "He's going to be disappointed, I'm already late!"

"Oh, Harm..." Jen began

"Don't worry about it, you take Loren up and put her in the second bedroom. I'll fix myself a coffee while you grab a shower and I'll pop my head round the door to let you know when I'm ready to leave. OK?"

Jen nodded weakly, but looked distinctly unhappy, "Go on, all three of you!" Harm insisted encompassing Sasha in his look, "G'wan up, git up them thar stairs!"

Jen managed a watery giggle as she got to her feet, but Loren said as she stood, "There's no need for that, Harm. I can make it back to my own bed!"

"I know you can, Loren, but I'll be much happier knowing that you're here. Just in case Jen needs you!"

"You just tried to handle me, Harmon Rabb!" Loren accused him.

"Guilty," he admitted with a slight grin, "But did I succeed?"

"Yeah, damn you!" Loren said as she picked up Sasha and turned to a patiently waiting Jen.

Harm sighed with relief and headed for the kitchen, where, to his surprise, the two FBI agents sat at the kitchen table, steaming mugs of coffee in front of them, and as Harm approached, the shorter of the two slid a third mug of coffee towards him, "I know you military types like your coffee strong, so I hope that's OK!"

Harm sat and took a sip, "Ohhh... that's more than OK, that's good! But what are you guys doing here still, I thought you'd have high-tailed it by now?"

"Waiting for orders to stand down, or for Mitchell and Jackson to show up, whichever comes first. From speaking to those two women last night, I got the feeling that you aren't anywhere in the top half of their one hundred most popular guys list!"

Harm chuckled, thinking how he had left the two female agents in the hands of Hernandez and the redoubtable Somers, "No, I don't suppose I am... in fact I'd be surprised if my name was anywhere on the bottom half of that list!"

Shaking his head, he drained his mug, and got to his feet.

Fifteen minutes later, he crept into his and Jen's bedroom, to find her fast asleep, the comforter pulled up around her shoulders, her hair unbound and her face covered in tear tracks. His heart nearly breaking at the signs of her distress he quietly dressed in his uniform, and dropping a gentle kiss on her temple, the only part of her face he could reach without disturbing her, he quietly closed the door and retrieving the M-9 and its ammunition from the lock box, he secured it in his brief-case and with a final nod to the two fibbies, he walked out into the daylight and climbed into the Lexus.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"The Admiral wants to see us, Tiner," Mac told the Yeoman as she and Harm stood in front of his desk.

"Yes, ma'am, I'll just check with him." He reached out his arm and pressed the 'call' switch on his desk-top intercom, "Admiral, sir?"

"_Yes?_"

"Colonel MacKenzie and Commander Rabb to see..."

"_Send 'em in, Tiner, and hold all calls until I tell you otherwise_!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Tiner responded and raised his head towards Mac and Harm, "He said..."

"Yeah, we heard, thanks Tiner!" Chegwidden's growl had definitely been on the surly side, and Harm exchanged a meaningful glance with Mac as he raised his fist to knock on the door-frame of the Admiral's office.

He had hardly dropped his hand to his side when the expected, if still growled, "Enter!" came from the other side of the door, and with a final exchange of glances between he and Mac he opened the door and stood back to allow her to precede him into the room.

Chegwidden watched his two subordinate officers cross the room towards him and come to a halt in front of his desk, both of them freezing into a brace. For a long, long minute he let them stand there as he eyed them flatly, and then in a deceptively quiet voice, he said, "You're late!"

"Yessir!" they both snapped out, but fuming inwardly. It may be almost zero nine hundred, but they had practically broken the land speed record in showering and dressing and as a result they had actually made it to JAG before the Admiral, and had both been waiting in Mac's office which had a clearer view of the Admiral's suite, and had seen his arrival not five minutes before they had presented themselves. It had been a risk in being quite so prompt, Tiner hadn't even left his desk for the galley to get the Admiral his first cup of coffee for the day. But it had been a choice between two evils, a prompt, if late, appearance in front of a caffeine deprived Chegwidden, or an even later appearance in front of a coffee fuelled admiral who'd had time to let his anger deepen.

"So what have you two got to say for yourselves?" Chegwidden demanded fixing each of them in turn with a beady-eyed stare.

"In what way, sir?" Mac asked.

"In what way! In what way?!" Chegwidden exploded, his voice shooting way up the decibel scale, "About last night! By rights I should have the pair of you court-martialled!"

"With respect, sir, may I ask on what charge or charges?" Harm asked.

"How about disobedience to a direct order?" Chegwidden yelled, standing and leaning on braced arms on his desk, his face empurpling.

"Sir, again with respect, what direct order?" This time it was Mac who asked the question. And although she spoke with evident respect in her voice, her question only seemed to infuriate the admiral even more.

Chegwidden gobbled with rage, a vein on his forehead starting to bulge ominously, as he realised that he hadn't actually ordered anybody not to follow him, or attempt to track down the joint agency task force that had assembled to rescue the Rabb women and take down Kozlovsky's gang of thugs.

After a few seconds he seemed to take a slightly better grip on his temper, and although still furious with his two officers, he did at last manage to articulate, "How about reckless endangerment, or conduct to the prejudice or service discrediting conduct, how do those charges answer your damned impertinent question, Colonel?" Chegwidden almost spat the last word.

"They don't, sir!" Harm answered this time, his lips thinned and his nostrils flared as he fought to keep a tight rein on his own temper. "I fail to see sir, what, if anything we did differently to what you were doing, sir!"

"How dare you!" Chegwidden yelled

"Sir! Commander!" Mac, appalled by the sudden rise in tension, attempted to restore some sanity to the situation.

Both men looked at Mac, breaking the eye to eye stare that they had established.

Mac took a breath and continued "Sir, we heard what Agent Fornell said about you gate-crashing the party. How sir, with respect, is that any different from what we did?"

"Because, Colonel," Chegwidden replied, "I at least did some planning and took some time to think about what I was about. I had the forethought to draw a suitable weapon from the arms-store, and to dress appropriately for the activity in which I was about to indulge. You, particularly you, Colonel, did not!"

Mac lapsed into silence, she really didn't have a defence against that accusation, the outfit she'd ended up wearing certainly could be cited as casting discredit on the service.

Mac's interruption had given Harm the opportunity to take a firmer grip on his anger, "Sir, with respect again, did you really think that I wouldn't try to save my wife?"

"Commander, did you stop to think that your damned super-hero complex could have quite easily gotten your wife, Lieutenant Rabb and her daughter all killed?"

"If the CIA, or perhaps I should say Webb, hadn't screwed the pooch in the first place, then my intervention wouldn't have been necessary, sir."

"And how could you have possibly known that it was necessary?" Chegwidden demanded, although not quite in the bellow he had been using.

"Past experience of Webb's planning and execution of his missions, sir!"

"Explain, Commander!" the admiral directed.

"That first case, sir. The one when you brought the Colonel, Major as she was then, on board. Am I right in thinking that was Webb's idea? I'm pretty sure that he knew that it was the Colonel's uncle that was involved in that heist, and that was something he carefully skirted around when challenged about, also I'm not too sure that he didn't somehow suborn Colonel O'Hara into hijacking the Declaration, sir!"

"That's one case, Commander!"

"Yes, sir! But then there was his interference with our trip to Russia – to which you took exception too sir!"

Chegwidden blinked, "Yeah... I did, didn't I?"

"And then the Somalian Embassy affair, sir. Webb knew about the probability that the Ebola virus was in the building, and he knew how deadly dangerous that stuff is, but he sent Mac and myself in there without a word of warning. He probably knew that the so-called coup was damned fake too! So, I have ample grounds for mistrusting Mister super spook! Sir."

Chegwidden seemed to have calmed down slightly, as he took his weight off his arms and stood erect, no longer glowering directly at Harm and Mac, "You have a point, Commander! But your actions were still ill-advised and reckless. Your intervention could have ended up with more needless deaths than there already are!"

"Sir, if the CIA hadn't taken a much longer route than was necessary we could all have got to the location, before Kozlovsky started his attacks," Harm protested.

"And if Harm hadn't been there and decided to drive up to the doorstep, the attempt would have too late anyway, and Legalman and Lieutenant Rabb would have both been dead. As it was, sir, you fired only just in time to bring Kozlovsky down before he started shooting!"

"You too have a point, Colonel!" Chegwidden was still breathing heavily through his nose, "All right, you've mounted a reasonable excuse defence, but don't think you're out of the doghouse! Since you seem to have so much energy to spare, I'm sure I can find something to keep you occupied! Dismissed!"

Harm and Mac chorused, their "Aye, aye, sir!" and in perfect synchronisation performed an about-face. Harm once again allowed Mac to precede him through the door, and then he carefully and very quietly closed it behind them.

Neither officer said anything as they crossed the bull-pen until they reached the sanctuary of Mac's office, where Mac collapsed into her own chair and waved for Harm to take a seat in one of the visitors' chairs.

"I suppose that means a stack of FOIA requests, lease disputes and enlisted personnel's will forms!" Mac complained.

"I suppose so," Harm agreed in a discontented voice, and then his eyes creased and his grin began to play at the corners of his mouth, "Mind you, that went well, I thought!"

Mac nearly giggled from the effects of the release of tension, but realising that of the sound of laughter from her office so soon after their confrontation would not go down well with the admiral, she hastily stuffed her knuckles into her mouth to stifle any inappropriate noises.

"I... ah... take it... you won't be submitting your request for transfer today, then, Mac?" Harm asked innocently.

"G... g... go... get out – before you make me laugh out loud!" Mac ordered between gasps.

"Yes, ma'am!" Harm replied with a lazy smile, getting to his feet and simultaneously ducking a ball of hastily crumpled paper that zoomed towards him.

Harm headed back to his own office, the smile fading from his face as he considered what he should do if Jen was sill stressed when he got home. He remembered all too well his first fire-fight, he had been left shaking and feeling unwell for a couple of days, and he at least had had some training, and had been told more or less what he could expect, although even the best training in the world left a body unprepared for the stunning effects of noise, violence and death.

Which brought him onto another subject. Slipping his hand into his pocket, he brought out the split cartridge case that had caused Loren's weapon to jam, and in the brightness of the office fluorescent lighting, he brought it up to his face and peered at the markings on the base of the cartridge, his face breaking into a scowl as he saw the Chinese characters around the centre point. Resolving to find out from Loren when and where she had bought the ammunition he slipped it back into his pocket and was so pre-occupied that he nearly missed Harriet Sims calling his name for the fourth time.

Shaking his slightly to clear it, he forced a neutral smile onto his face, "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Sir," Those two FBI Agents... the pretend Rabbs? They're waiting for you in the small conference room. They said they would like to see you as soon as you had seen the Admiral."

"I'll just bet they did, Harriet!" he groaned. "Do you know if they've had coffee yet?"

"Yes, sir. They have... as well as one of my home-baked bear-claws each too!"

"You figure that a sugar overdose might soothe the fury in their savage breasts?" he asked, not quite joking.

Harriet Sims shrugged, her blue eyes dancing with laughter, "Like it's been said in the past, it couldn't hurt!"

This time Harm's smile was nearer genuine, "That's true enough, Harriet, true enough. Oh, well best get it over with!" He reversed his course and headed for the double door that led from the bull pen to the hallway that led in turn to the small conference room.

Harriet gazed after him a slight crease appearing between her eyebrows. She didn't know what had happened last night, not for sure, although Tiner had let it slip that he'd had a heck of job cleaning the Admiral's weapon before returning it to the security detachment and that of the six full magazines that he'd signed out with the weapon, four had been returned empty, and the fifth with only a half-load left in it. But that wasn't her prime concern right now. Right now it looked like the only thing keeping the Commander upright was sheer determination.

Harriet took a deep breath. If there was one thing of which she was certain in an uncertain world was that if the Commander had been involved in some sort of... well, anything, the one person who would know all about it was Colonel MacKenzie.

Straightening her shoulders and with a determined expression on her face, Harriet set out towards Mac's office. Her knock on the door brought no result, and frowning slightly she tried the door, opened it, and then with a gasp stepped inside, hastily closing the door behind her, and swiftly closing the blinds.

Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie, USMC, was fast asleep in her office chair, her head tilted back and to one side, and snoring gently.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm opened the small conference room door and bracing himself for a shit storm, he stepped into the room. The click of knitting needles stopped abruptly as two heads swivelled towards him, and Harm stopped where he was, aware of the basilisk quality in the two pairs of eyes, one brown and one blue, that bored into him.

"You... uh... asked to see me, ladies?" he said with an innocent air.

"We did!" Agent Mitchell replied, her paperback book falling onto the table with an audible 'thud''.

"Now are you all right... physically... you're not hurt in any way?" Jackson asked.

"No, I'm fine, thank you!"

"Well, if you are, then it's no real thanks to yourself!" Mitchell started, "As yet, we don't know fully what went on last night, but from a couple of 'phone calls we've picked up some bits and pieces, did it occur to you perhaps that two extra weapons might just have come in useful?"

"Umm... no... but it did occur to me that you might have tried to prevent me from doing what needed to be done, and quite frankly I didn't think I could afford the time to dissuade you otherwise, and besides which, you had orders to baby-sit me, and if you had allowed me to go off, or even come along with me, then it might well have been you getting a new six torn by your boss!"

Unaccustomed as they might be to Navy slang, the two fibbies immediately understood the reasoning and the concept behind Harm's words and Jackson replied, "Well, we'll never know, because you put that monster of a marine between us and the door, and he and his malevolent little sidekick delayed us long enough for you to make your get-away!

"Yeah, Hernandez is quite a size!" Harm grinned.

"M'mm, he is isn't he?" Mitchell murmured dreamily.

"Yeah, he is," Harm agreed as he let his grin widen just before he dropped the boom, "And his malevolent little sidekick is also his fiancée!"

"Damn!" Mitchell exclaimed.

Jackson had been looking closely at Harm and she grinned, "You enjoyed doing that, didn't you?"

"Which part?" Harm asked innocently.

Jackson laughed, "Both! First when you sicced Hernandez onto us last evening, and just now when you crushed Mitchell's dreams!"

"Agent Mitchell had dreams?" Harm asked.

"Yeah, I did! And you know it!" Mitchell tried to scowl at Harm, but the grin at the corners of her mouth gave her away, as she joined in the chuckle that broke from both Harm and Jackson.

"So friends again?" Harm queried.

"Yeah, I guess..." Mitchell looked across at Jackson, who nodded her head in agreement.

Harm pulled up a chair and sat in it. "Seriously, ladies, I'm glad you weren't there last night, it turned out to be a classic Webb FUBAR, of all the agents involved over half of them are dead or wounded,"

The two women gasped, "Oh God... Do you know who..."

Harm shook his head, "It was a joint CIA slash FBI Op, and I don't know how many from each agency were hit. Agent Fornell said at the last count that there were nine dead and a dozen wounded. The only ones I know for sure are one CIA Agent dead, and two wounded. I have no news of any FBI casualties."

The two agents sobered rapidly at his news. "Damn!" Mitchell muttered again.

Jackson retrieved a Kleenex from her knitting bag and blew her nose, "It was bad, wasn't it?" she asked when she had done, her eyes suspiciously damp.

"Yeah,... yeah, it was bad," Harm agreed.

All three sat in silence for some minutes considering the events of last night and the retelling of them, until Harm stirred, "I don't what your boss is going to say... it's Fornell isn't it?"

The two women nodded.

"Well he knows that I've got Jen, Loren and Sasha safe back home, and that Kozlovsky and a bunch of his men are dead and the rest in custody. You might want to give him a call and find out if he has any new orders for you... Just a suggestion," he added.

"It's a good one, Harm" Mitchell smiled at him.

Harm pushed his chair back from the table and stood, "Well, I'd like to say it's been a real pleasure working with you ladies, but under the circumstances..."

"Hey, we understand," Jackson smiled, "And maybe, we'll give you and your wife a call in the not too distant future and we can get together for a beer or maybe just a coffee – and after all it's about time we bought or fixed you a dinner!"

"I'll look forward to it," Harm agreed as he paused by the door, "so long, ladies!"

Harm strolled back to the bull pen feeling totally drained, and almost the first thing he noticed was that Mac's office door was closed, but her blinds were open and the office lights were out. He looked around until he caught Harriet's eye, "Lieutenant, do you happen to know where Colonel MacKenzie went?"

"Yes sir, she told Tiner that if the Admiral asked, she was taking a personal day. And sir, if I might make so bold..."

"You don't have to, Lieutenant," he smiled wearily at her and then raised his voice, "Tiner?"

"Sir?" the Yeoman appeared in the doorway to his office.

"If the Admiral should ask for me at any time today, tell him..."

"That you've taken a personal day, aye, sir!"


	61. Fallout

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 61  
>Fallout<strong>

"Tiner!"

"Sir"

"Pass the word for Commander Rabb!"

"Uh... sir, the Commander left word that if anyone would ask for him that he's taken a personal day and can be reached at home, sir!" Tiner waited for the blast, he was to be surprised.

The Admiral grunted, "He did, did he?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Very well, pass the word for Colonel MacKenzie, then!"

"Umm... The Colonel left pretty much the same message sir. In fact sir, she actually left the message before the Commander did, sir."

"She did, did she?"

"Yes, sir!"

"And Lieutenant Rabb?"

"The Commander told me that he had ordered her to take a sick day and not to turn to for duty, sir!"

"He did, did he?"

"Yes, sir!"

Chegwidden stepped back into his office for a moment and returned carrying his cover in his hand, brushing past his yeoman he stepped into the bull pen and surveyed the scene in front of him. Nothing much seemed to be happening, most of the staff stood still and were gazing at Harriet Sims, as she confronted a Petty Officer from the LSO Office on the first floor, who was pushing a mail cart loaded almost to capacity with file folders.

"Lieutenant Sims!" Chegwidden barked.

"Sir!" Harriet spun to face her CO.

"Lieutenant Sims, I am taking a personal day. You are in charge!"

"Sir! Yes, sir!" A stunned Harriet replied, "But, sir... what about this..." she indicated the mail cart.

"These are the files you asked be sent up from the LSO, sir!" the visiting Petty Officer intervened.

"They are, are they? Good! That's a simple answer to a simple question, Lieutenant. Have them divided into two equal piles, and then put one half on Colonel MacKenzie's desk and the other half on Commander Rabb's desk! And I'll see you all tomorrow! Carry on!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Harriet almost whispered as she watched the Two-Star stalk out of the bull pen on his way to the elevator.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The house was still silent when Harm let himself in and he immediately felt that dead quality that said no-one was up and about.

Toeing off his shoes in the hall he unbuttoned his shirt as he climbed the stairs. The door to the second bedroom was closed, and he hoped that Loren and Sasha were still there but the door to his and Jen's bedroom was slightly ajar, just as he'd left it. Entering the room, he could see, despite the drawn blinds, that Jen was still in bed, and with a fond smile, he swiftly stripped off to his boxers and slid under the comforter to join her.

Jen lay on her side, her back to him, so he slid across the bed towards her, spooning gently against her so that there was full body contact between shoulders and knees, and draping his forearm over her waist so that his hand rested gently on her baby bump. Nuzzling the back of her neck he drew a deep, satisfied breath filled with her scent, closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Harm awoke some hours later, on his back with Jen's head in the hollow his shoulder, her bump pressed against his side and her legs entangled with his. But that wasn't what had woken him, instead it was the indefinable sense that the house was no longer quiet and empty. For a second, quick alarm shot through him, but then as a familiar sound assailed his ears, he winced and then grinned. Miss Sasha Rabb had also awoken and had decided that all was not well with her world, and was characteristically not shy about voicing her displeasure.

At about the same time that his mind filtered, interpreted and recognised those feelings, his body urged him that it was time to get up and attend to other needs. With a sigh of regret Harm slipped out from under the covers, bringing a sleepy murmur of protest from Jen, and headed for the bathroom.

Jen was still asleep when he returned so stepping into a pair of well worn jeans and pulling a T-shirt on over his head, he ran a comb through his hair and made his way downstairs, to where his nostrils had told him that someone – Loren presumably – had started a pot of coffee.

"'Morning Loren..." he greeted her as he entered the kitchen.

Loren, who was busying herself with bread and the toaster had heard him coming down the stairs and contented herself with a quick "Good afternoon, I'd say!" accompanied by a brief smile over her shoulder.

Harm nodded to acknowledge the question, and crossed the room to the far corner and rarely used work-top where Sasha, safely strapped into her porta-crib, presided over the kitchen, "Hey you, little noise maker!" he greeted her, "Good afternoon!"

Sasha merely regarded him gravely and then gurgled.

"Yes, I quite agree!" Harm said, holding a finger within Sasha's reach so that she could grab it. A feat she accomplished on her first attempt, but finding that it wasn't so much fun as it had first appeared, promptly let go of it and returned to her new hobby that apparently consisted of her attempting to eat her own foot.

"Coffee? Toast?" Loren inquired as she hooked a foot around a chair, preparatory top sitting at the kitchen table.

"Just coffee, thanks, Loren." Harm replied moving to join her. He took a sip of his coffee and frowned, "This is a bit of a change for you, isn't it?"

"The coffee?" Loren asked in confirmation and then said, "Yeah, yeah it is... but once in a while, if it isn't too strong, then it won't harm Sasha... so I hope this is strong enough for you... and besides, I really feel like I needed this one!"

"Yeah. How are you feeling?"

"Still a bit scared... relieved... sad... and... and... angry..."

"Uh-huh," Harm took another sip from his mug. "The scared I get, the relief I certainly get – you have no idea how I felt when I got into that room and you, Jen and Sasha were all still all right... the sad... because of the agent?"

Loren nodded, "She was OK, she was smart, funny, kind, brave... we didn't know her long Harm, but she felt like a friend... she was a good person Harm... she wanted to have a baby... she didn't... she didn't deserve... tha... that..." Loren eyes filled with tears, and her breath caught in her throat.

"I won't say that no-one deserves that, Loren, because some people do. But no, your friend didn't, and it is right that you should feel sorrow for her, and it may be little compensation, but she died doing the job she'd trained for, and maybe that's not a bad way to go in the end." He held up his hand to halt the outburst he could see forming on Loren's face. "I don't mean to sound callous, or as if I was just spouting platitudes, but she... we... all of us... could get hit by a car tomorrow, or even today."

He took a deep, deep breath and let it out slowly while he waited for Loren's reaction.

Her eyes still brimming with tears she nodded, " I guess I can accept that, in a half-assed sort of way, but what I don't get is that I'm sad too because of those other two men who died. The one I shot, and the one that you, or the Admiral shot... They were evil men who were trying to kill me and my baby, and I just don't get why I am sad that they're dead too! And," her voice faltered, "and why I feel so damned guilty about it all! I know it wasn't my fault, I didn't start this whole... mess... so why do I feel guilty?"

"I'm not a therapist Loren, but my reasoning is that you feel the way you do because you are neither a psychopath nor a sociopath, Loren," Harm said gently, "People died too young and too violently, and the whole of our culture and upbringing tells us that is wrong. You were there, and you were powerless to change the chain of events. That's all there is to it!"

"But I did change events, I shot a man!" Loren protested

"That was the instinct to preserve your life and your baby's life Loren, that is something deep and visceral, and has nothing to do with culture or upbringing. That is a basic human emotion, the desire to protect the lives of you and yours, that is why the argument of self-defence has always been accepted in law." Harm paused and added gently, "And you know that's so Loren, you're a professional, you have read up on this and argued for and against it in moot court, and before a judge not so long ago if I remember correctly, and you won your case!"

Loren nodded, "Yeah, I guess I did..."

"Do you really believe all that, Harm?" Jen's voice came from the kitchen doorway.

Neither Harm nor Loren had heard Jen approach, and it was to their credit that neither spilled their coffee nor showed surprise. Harm looked over his shoulder and smiled, "Good afternoon gorgeous!" and standing took her in his arms and kissed her thoroughly.

Jen returned his hug and kiss with enthusiasm, luxuriating again at the feeling of warmth and security that being in Harm's arms engendered within he. She even, despite her feelings of sadness and feeling dispirited managed a smile at what she saw as the absurdity of his greeting. She certainly didn't feel glamorous. She had showered but she hadn't bothered with even the minimal amount of make-up she wore for work, and her hair which to Harm still looked suspiciously damp had been caught back in a pony-tail, and she had dressed in one of Harm's sweat shirts with the sleeves pulled up her forearms and a pair of his jogging pants, pulled well up under her breasts and the legs rolled up, and her feet shoved into her battered old slippers.

"Good afternoon, and to you too Loren!" she said, adding the latter greeting over Harm's shoulders, and then continuing, "Oh... is that coffee I smell? That is so unfair!"

"I know, and I'm sorry," Loren replied but without the slightest hint of remorse in her voice, "but I really needed this, and it didn't feel right – just slipping off to the ranch house before you and Harm were up and about..."

"Oh... I know," Jen sighed, "It's just..." she shrugged, as she pulled a chair out for herself.

Harm seated and her and tuned back to the work top, "Tea?"

"I s'pose so, "Jen pouted, "English breakfast, please!"

For while they drank their beverage in silence, until Jen sighed, and said to Harm, "You never answered my question. You just deflected it!"

"What question was that, Sweetheart?"

"I asked you, what you told Loren, did you really mean what you said?"

"Uh... how much did you hear?" Harm asked exchanging a glance with Loren.

"Uh... from the bit where you told Loren she wasn't a psychopath..."

"OK... so you heard most of what I had to say, and yes, I do believe in what I told her."

"So... why don't I feel guilty about shooting that guy?"

"Maybe because it turned out that he was on the side of the angels, after all. That, plus of course the fact that you didn't kill him?"

"Maybe... but why do I feel guilty about Gloria?"

"Are you sure it's guilt you're feeling, not grief and sadness?"

"Dammit Harm!" Jen exploded, slamming her mug down on the table so hard that the handle snapped off in her hand and the contents flew everywhere, "I know what I'm feeling!" she yelled and stormed out of the room.

Loren turned to where Sasha, startled by Jen's outbreak had begun to scream, but paused to say over her shoulder, "Go after her Harm – she's hurting!"

And as Harm hesitated doubtfully, she snapped, "Go on! I'll deal with the mess after I've seen to Sasha!"

Harm went direct to the bedroom and found as he'd almost known he would, Jen lying on the bed sobbing into her pillow. Kicking off his sneakers he slid onto the bed and as he had done when he first joined her he spooned tightly against her, once again feeling the pressure of her body against his from neck to knees, and once again draping his forearm over her waist. This time, however, instead of silently nuzzling her neck he raised his head slightly from the pillow and whispered into her ear, "It's all right Jen, it's all right, let it out, let it all out, I'm here, I won't let anything hurt you, ever."

Jen's only response was to shake her head and cry harder. Remembering that Jen's reaction to her tears could be temper, Harm fell silent to let her weep, hoping to comfort her by his warmth and presence alone. Although silent, Harm was crying inside too; he cried for the pain that Jen was going through, he cried for his inability to help her and, yes, he cried for the young CIA agent who had given her life in protecting his family.

After what seemed an age Harm felt the shudders racking Jen come to an end, after more long minutes of silence, she shifted restlessly in his arms and tentatively said his name, "Harm?"

"I'm here," he said unnecessarily, the weight of his forearm on her body and the warmth of his body on her back already assuring her of his presence.

"Yeah... I know... you're here... but promise me you'll always be here?"

"Oh, sweetheart!" Harm's voice thickened with emotion, "How can you think otherwise? Of course I'll always be here!"

Jen's voice was clearer now, as if she'd turned her face from the pillow, but she still hadn't lifted herself so that she could see Harm, so that he couldn't see her face.

"I'm such a coward," she sniffed, "while we were in that room... I missed you so much... and I was so scared... I could hear all the shooting... it kept getting closer and all I could think of was that I didn't want to die... and what would happen to you if I did... and then... and then those men came... and I panicked... I shot at one of them... but before I could do anything... Gloria... Gloria... she... she..."

"Hush, darling, hush... I know..."

"No! You don't know!" Jen denied fiercely, "I froze! I couldn't move... and in that second... I knew we were going to die... Me, our baby, Loren, Sasha, we were all going to die in that little room... and then... you showed up... and... and... I discovered I'd wet myself...I'm so ashamed... If I hadn't been so scared, if I could have moved just a few inches to see around Loren, I could have gotten a shot off... and maybe Gloria wouldn't have died... it's all my fault she's dead... she died because I'm such a coward..."

"No, no, no, no, no... Jen sweetheart, you couldn't have saved Gloria, she was Kozlovsky's first target. She was already dead by the time you shot Jester. There is nothing you could have done to save her, even if you'd had the fastest reflexes in the world, you could not have saved her. Jen, my darling Jen, you have to believe that."

"But I'm still despicable..."

"Why? Because you had a nervous reaction? Jen, I've known fighter pilots who have had much worse nervous reactions that just letting go a little urine... I've known guys step out of their cockpits smelling really, really bad, and then seen them dump their flight suits and underwear over the taff rail – after dark, of course." Harm tried to lighten the mood slightly, but Jen wasn't buying into that.

"Not just that, Harm... I'm such a worm... I'm a coward and such a bitch. When I came downstairs, I saw you talking to Loren, and then I heard what you were saying, I was so angry with you and so jealous! You were comforting her, helping her with her feelings and you should have been comforting me! Me! I'm your wife! Not her! And then I felt disgusted with myself for feeling like that, and angry with myself, and then I started to take that anger out on you and I felt so mixed up... I... I was a coward again, and I ran away!"

"Oh... Jen... I'm sorry... but when I woke up you were still sound asleep and I figured that you were best left to sleep it out... so I went downstairs and Loren was just fixing coffee... and yeah, she was hurting... so I tried to help her. Be honest with me, and with yourself Jen, would you have had me do anything else?"

Jen wriggled free of his arm and turned over to face him. Her eyes were red and swollen, her nose was red and shiny and her face was covered with tear tracks. All mute witnesses to the mental turmoil she had gone, and for all Harm knew, was still going through.

"No... of course not... you wouldn't be the man I love if you hadn't tried to help; you wouldn't be you," Jen ended simply.

"And you wouldn't be the woman I love, if you weren't grieving over a friend's death and wishing that you could have done something, anything, to prevent it. But there was nothing you could have done, so please, for the sake of our little girl, stop beating yourself up."

Jen nodded, "I'll try..." she sniffled, "but please don't stop loving me, if I can't... or if it takes a little longer than you like..."

"Jen! That's not going to happen!" Harm said appalled that Jen , his Jen could even think of such a thing.

"Yeah, yeah it could... it's got be hard for you to keep on loving me right now, and to keep on telling me that I'm beautiful, when I'm so fat already! And I've still got months to go! I'm going to be so fat! And Loren's so beautiful – even you have said so – and so slim and so near, and you do love her, don't you... there's no use denying it, I've seen you when you look at her! And now you know just how much of a jealous, weak coward I am how can you go on loving me!" Jen started weeping again, the tears running down her face.

Harm reached out for his wife, and drew her into his chest, her head falling naturally into it's accustomed place in the hollow oh his shoulder, her hands clutching desperately at the shirt he wore. Fortunately perhaps, Jen didn't have many tears left and her latest storm lasted only a few minutes.

Feeling her calm down in his arms, Harm asked, "Feeling a little better now?"

Jen nodded wordlessly.

"Good! Come here!" Harm rolled overt onto his back, drawing Jen with him, her head still on his shoulder, and her bump once again resting against him.

"OK, are you ready to listen, understand and believe?"

Jen nodded again.

"Right. First things first. You are beautiful. Nothing can change that. I love you. I think I started loving you that first Christmas evening when you kissed me on the cheek after Chaplain Turner's Christmas message, and I still love you, and I will keep on loving you until the day I die. Nothing, nothing can or will ever change that. Point two: You are not fat. You are pregnant. You are my amazing, beautiful, pregnant wife, who carries our daughter beneath her heart. And did I forget to say that you are amazingly beautiful? I didn't? Good!. Third point: Yes, I love Loren, I love her for the way she has put the old Loren behind her, I love her for bringing Sasha into the world and into our family, but most importantly of all, I love her like the sister she has become. As for you being a coward, no such thing, OK you were scared in the middle of a gunfight, big deal; who isn't? I know I'm always scared when I've been shot at, but that's nothing. I remember you when you stood in front of a Two Star Admiral, and told him to go to hell, how you held my hand right in front of his eyes and told him that loving me was worth every penalty the UCMJ could throw at us! Damn! I was so proud of you that day! And then when you came home that night, you tore me new one and ended up throwing the ink bottle at me! Damn, that evening I loved you more than ever before, and my love and admiration of you has only grown deeper and stronger every single day since then!"

While he was speaking, Jen had propped herself up on one elbow and gazed earnestly down into his face and once he had finished, she said wonderingly, "You really, really meant all that didn't you?"

"Of course I did! What would ever make you think I didn't?"

"Nothing... it's just you couldn't have prepared that speech, because you couldn't have known in advance what I was going to say, so I know it must have come from the heart..."

"You bet your sweet ass it did!" he told her fervently, drawing a smile from Jen, it was a bit on the wan side and definitely a damp smile, but Harm was relieved to see it. "So... why don't you go and draw yourself a bath... while I go downstairs and make a start on fixing... he looked at his watch, "Dinner?"

Jen nodded, "Sounds like a plan... "

Harm returned to the kitchen to find a large, covered casserole dish on one of the work tops with a note propped against it:

"_I figured you maybe wouldn't want to do much cooking this evening, so I dug this out of the freezer. I think it's a fisherman's pie. _

_L"_

Harm smiled, it was indeed a fisherman's pie that he'd intended for Sunday dinner. Oh, well, he'd either have to make a replen trip to the store, or re-think the weekend's menu. But, he reflected, it was so typical of the new Loren Rabb, that she should take the time to think of others while she was still trying to resolve her own doubts and feelings; definitely not the sort of behaviour he, nor anyone else who knew her, would have associated with the Loren Singer of old. But then again, had any of them known the old Loren Singer?

Not having to worry about dinner for the moment, Harm occupied himself in setting the table and then as he heard Jen moving around upstairs, he smiled and put the kettle on to boil and set out the tea caddy and measuring spoon ready to set the tea brewing the moment Jen put in an appearance.

Jen's appearance was not long delayed, now dressed in a pair of her new maternity slacks and a smock blouse gathered high under her breasts and falling loosely over her bump with her freshly washed and dried hair held back by an Alice-band she looked even more beautiful than ever to Harm, and to his, admittedly uncritical eye, not in the slightest bit fat. Glowing with pregnancy and her bump just visible under the smock, she looked eminently desirable and definitely not fat.

"God... you are so beautiful," he breathed.

Jen blushingly smiled, she would admit to herself, but never to anyone else, that on this occasion she had chosen her outfit especially with Harm's reaction in mind, "Yeah well, it's just something I threw on," she dissembled, "But it's sweet of you to notice."

"Oh, I noticed, all right!" Harm declared as he crossed the room towards her, and ignoring her squeak of surprise, he swept her up into his arms and kissed her thoroughly.

Jen returned his kiss hungrily, once again losing herself in the warmth and reassurance of his arms until once again sheer lack of air drew them apart, and then with a start she drew back and looking, around asked, "Where's Loren?"

"Gone back to the ranch house, I guess... but she left a fisherman's pie to defrost for dinner. She left a note too saying she didn't reckon I'd be much in the mood for cooking..."

"Oh, Harm... if she said that, you can bet she's not much in the mood either... I'll bet she's already decided on the type of sandwich she's going to have!"

With that, Jen turned away from Harm and grabbed the phone off the cradle on the kitchen wall. She punched in the number and waited for the pick up.

"Loren, it's Jen! What are you doing for dinner?...No... no you're not! You get your ass back up here for nineteen hundred hours, or I'm going come down and drag you up here – by your hair if necessary! Got it? Good!"

"I take it I should set an extra place at the table then?"

Jen looked at the place setting already laid out and giggled, "Yeah, I s'pose you should!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm took one horrified look at the pile of folders in his in-tray and his expression only became bleaker as riffled thorough them, FOI requests on top of will forms on top of lease agreements, just as he'd feared and half-jokingly mentioned to Mac. The FOI requests and the wills could be dealt with in turn, but the lease agreements, with respect to the housing climate in DC, were of a higher priority. JAG could not be responsible for a serving member missing out on a lease because its attorneys were dragging their feet while they sulked.

With a sigh he tossed his cover and brief-case to one side and sat down to make a start on prioritising his augmented work-load. He hadn't been at it for long, when a tap on his door frame made him look up. Loren stood in his doorway with a mug of coffee in each hand, an eyebrow elegantly raised as she surveyed the temporary state of chaos into which Harm's desk had fallen.

"Coffee?" she asked mildly.

"God, yes! And it doesn't matter who made it!"

"Umm... Colonel MacKenzie I think. It looks like she had a sense of humour failure when she saw her desk and decided that coffee was a prerequisite to the start of the day?"

"As bad as this?" Harm asked ruefully as he waved a hand at the files strewn all over his desk.

"Just about, I think," Loren answered with the hint of mischievous smile, "but her office is so strewn with cra... uh with files and paperwork that it's difficult to tell!"

"Excuse me, please Loren!" Harriet's voice came from behind her.

Loren turned to see Harriet Sims waiting to enter Harm's office, and she too bore a steaming mug of coffee. At the same time as Loren noticed the coffee in Harriet's hand, she saw the mug that Loren was holding.

"Great minds think alike!" Harriet quipped.

"The same errand of mercy, I think!" Loren rebutted her. "But the question is, which one of us shall he favour by accepting our humble offerings?"

Harm tried, but failed, to keep a straight face, "I think he can hear you, and I also think that looking at this pile of... of piles... that he could probably manage both cups! Thank you ladies! And now if you don't mind, it appears he has some busy-work to do!"

The two blonde lieutenants laughed and each lifting a couple of files out of the way placed their mugs of coffee on the desk, and with almost matching grins, they left Harm to his misery.

Harm's mood was no lighter when with another six case files in his arms he returned to his office from Staff Call. Both he and Mac had been loaded down with minor cases of which they were to dispose. Harm's cases included one of insubordination to a Petty Officer, two DDOs, one UA for three days, and two drunk and disorderly marines arising from a wetting down that had become slightly over-exuberant. Mac's share of the load had been cases of a similar nature while Bud had been packed off to MCAS Yuma, together with Alan Mattoni to investigate a Cobra pilot who used his helo's 20mm Gatling gun to provide unasked for assistance to an Arizona County Sheriff during the course of a hostage rescue.

His shared wry look with Mac was intercepted by the Admiral who with apparent unconcern had asked, "You don't think that such trifling cases are beneath you, do you, Commander, Colonel?"

Both had known far better than to admit that was precisely how they were feeling and had chorused an emphatic "No, sir!"

"Good," Chegwidden had grunted, "So I can confidently expect to see you both with clear desks by secure on Friday next?"

"Uh... We do still have the James' case for which to prepare, sir," Mac had gulped.

"Yes, I had taken that into consideration," Chegwidden had replied, "That's why I have refrained from hitting you with any other major cases until that one is out of the way. And I'm sure the routine admin tasks that are waiting for you won't take up too much of your time."

"No sir!" Mac had subsided in defeat, and Harm meekly followed her example.


	62. Evasive Tactics

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 62  
>Evasive Tactics<strong>

"A word, Loren?" Harm said as he hung back to let the press of bodies pass him as everyone left the conference room after staff call.

"Sir?"

"Yeah... look... with what I've got to deal with already plus all the cr... uh... extra administrative work, I'm going to have to put in some extra hours over the next couple of weeks..." he gave a cracked version of his grin, "or maybe even the next couple of months, depending on how vind... uh... depending on just how much the Admiral feels I need to be kept busy..."

"And?" the blonde said as they negotiated the bull pen.

"Well, you've got Sasha and her baby sitter to consider. You can't afford to be paying for extra shifts on a regular, long term basis, so it might be better if we didn't car pool until all this is over..."

"I see..." Loren stopped walking as they came up to Harm's office door, "Let me think about it, and I'll let you know what I decide. By your leave, sir." And with a slight smile and a nod of her head Loren turned away and continued to her own office, leaving a puzzled Harm staring after her.

'Let me think about it? – What the hell is there to think about?' he asked himself as he let himself into his office and took his seat. Ruefully looking at the piles of LSO folders, the short pile he had completed before staff call, and the much taller pile waiting for his attention, he mentally pushed them to one side and opened the James court martial case, and reaching for a legal pad and pencil started to re-draft his opening statement.

Loren gained the sanctuary of her own office, and carefully closing the door she looked at her own desk. Almost obsessively neat and tidy, it also had far fewer files demanding her attention than did Harm's desk demanding his. Her brow furrowed in thought for a moment or two, and then the frown clearing almost as if by magic, she gave a determined nod and reached for the 'phone

An hour later, the opening statement drafted to his satisfaction, typed and stored on his computer's hard drive, Harm turned his attention to the case of Seaman Apprentice Marian Farmer, who apparently, on a cold, wet Norfolk night had told Bosun's Mate Three Jason Oliver, that if he wanted an extra deck watch, he could stand it himself. She had just come off a four hour watch, and was heading below for a hot drink. A plain case of Wilfully Disobeying a Petty Officer, and he was supposed to defend this? He would have to interview the Seaman Apprentice, which meant, he realised with a groan, that he would have to travel to Norfolk to do it, and that meant a day away from his desk, and all the work on it for the sake of a twenty minute interview. He nearly threw the file across the office, there had to be a better way to run a Navy. That thought stopped him cold; there was a better way to run the Navy, this case could quite easily have been handled by one of the junior attorneys at the SJA's office at Norfolk; it should have been handled by the SJA at Norfolk, who should have advised the convening authority that an article fifteen hearing would be more than appropriate for this level of offence... so why had it been booted upstairs to JAG HQ?

A closer check through the pages of the file showed that it actually contained a note signed by a Lieutenant Jacobs of Norfolk SJA, recommending precisely that. Intrigued by his discovery Harm reached for his phone but then had a second thought and grabbed the remaining five folders that had been passed to him at the Admiral's instructions. a frown creased his forehead as he realised that each and every case would involve him being absent for his desk for at least one day, Quantico, Pax River, Oceana, Dover and Yorktown.

Getting up from his desk, he strolled along to Mac's office where he knocked on the door and waited for her to acknowledge him, which she did by a raised eyebrow and a questioning expression on her face.

"Hey Mac, have you looked through those cases the Admiral passed to us at Staff call?"

"Not yet, I've been trying to work out a new defence angle for the James case... why?"

"When you have a chance read 'em through and then tell me if you think there's anything odd... or maybe... fishy about them."

Intrigued, Mac, closed the James file and said, "What are you hinting at, flyboy?"

"No... that's just it, I don't want to hint at anything. I don't want to influence your thinking. Just give me a hail if you think you've found something!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen signed in at the Pentagon CP with mixed feelings. On the one hand she was glad to be finished with the whole Kozlovsky business, but at the same time she dreaded the barrage of questions that in all probability she faced, or worse the overflowing of sympathy that might come her way. She just wanted to put the whole thing behind her and get on with her life.

She was therefore greatly relieved when her welcome from Commander Manetti boiled down to "Good you're back! Carry on and try to read yourself in on the crap you-all have missed while you've been away!"

Angela's noting of Jen's return to work was also pretty low key, "Hey, good to see you back. You can have Commander Manetti's typing back too... I don't understand more than half these legal terms, let alone know how to spell 'em!"

Jen stowed away her cover and purse and with a silent thank you, she slid into her chair and started on the pile of paperwork that had accumulated in her in-tray. She had barely been at work more than hour when her phone interrupted her train of though and with a sigh she picked up the offending instrument, "SecNav's Legal Office, Legalman One Rabb, sir,"

"_Hi, Jen, it's Loren. Listen..._"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm had barely returned to his desk and after reading once more through the Farmer file he reached or the 'phone for a second time, only to have it ring before he could pick it up.

"Rabb!"

"_Sir, it's Tiner, the Admiral requires your presence in the small conference room, sir. ASAP_!"

"Thank you Tiner, I'm on my way!"

He made his way along to the small conference room and wasn't particularly surprised to see Mac ahead of him, and he figured that they were in for another Two-Star rant, he was surprised though when he was joined at the bull pen doors by Loren.

"Where are you off to?" he inquired.

"Admiral wants to see me..." she replied with just a tremor of nervousness.

"Oh, well, it can't be anything bad, if it were, you wouldn't have been detailed," he tried to reassure her.

"Maybe," Loren replied with a half-hearted smile, as Harm opened the conference room door for her.

Harm followed her into the room which in addition to the Admiral held Mac and Agent Fornell. He stood still a moment not quite sure what to expect.

"Damn it, Rabb, sit down - both of you," Chegwidden snapped and Harm and Loren exchanging glances with each other and an already seated Mac did as they were old.

"All right Fornell, you've got us all here, so let's get on with it!"

Fornell sat back in his chair and briefly consulted his notes. "First things first, we captured four of Kozlovsky's men alive, two of whom were unhurt, and we had some success in getting them to talk – in return for taking the death penalty off the table..." he shrugged, "Personally I'd like to see them all get the needle, but... Anyway, as a result of the information we obtained we were able to locate and rescue Mrs James and her surviving daughter. They are traumatised and have been repeatedly assaulted during their captivity, but there is no physical reason that they shouldn't survive, however..." he let his voice trail away, leaving his audience in doubt that the two women had psychological injuries that might not be so easily healed.

"The other good news is that we also discovered a cache of weapons, including twelve cases of javelins anti-armour missiles and cases of P-90s as well as ammunition, grenades and M-4s. There is also additional good news for JAG in that a cursory examination of the serial numbers and cross-checking with manufacturers has us believing that NCIS are not going to be involved in any follow up investigations but that the Air Force OSI and Army CID are going to be plenty busy for the next couple of months, as are their JAG Corps."

Despite his relief that the James women were safe, Harm still had concerns, "What about casualties?" he asked soberly.

Fornell too sobered slightly, "We were lucky," he admitted, "of the nine fatalities eight of them were CIA, and our only death was caused in the first exchange of shots, when we were taken by surprise by the amount of fire-power Kozlovsky's men had at their disposal. Seems they were all armed with P-90s plus handguns and grenades. Our three wounded are all receiving treatment and are all expected to make a full recovery."

"And the CIA casualties – the non-fatalities?" Mac asked.

"They're not telling us," Fornell admitted, "Apparently we don't need to know." he spoke ironically.

"God! How I hate that phrase!" Mac said between her teeth.

"Me too!" Harm agreed, "So no word on Webb?"

"Nothing, why the interest in Webb?"

"This whole thing looks like a classic Webb FUBAR, and I really want to severely kick his ass for putting my family at risk!" Harm explained.

"Yeah, I can see where you're coming from," Fornell agreed, "But from what I saw, Webb will be lucky to ever walk properly again, and that's only if he keeps his leg!"

Harm whistled softly, drawing a look of reproof from Chegwidden, "He was that badly hurt?"

"Yeah, a shattered femur is about what you can expect if it takes a close range hit from a fifty calibre," Fornell said dryly, "But the point if this meeting today was to bring you up to speed, and to pass on, unofficially of course, the Bureau's thanks to you for your assistance. So, now I've done that, I'll leave you in peace! Admiral," he inclined his head in Chegwidden's direction and got to his feet.

"Thank you, Agent Fornell," Chegwidden said stiffly, "I'll get someone to walk you out. I'm sure the rest of you have no lack of work to keep you busy!"

Taking the hint Harm, Mac and Loren surged to their feet and with murmured acknowledgements to the FBI Agent, they filed out of the room and started back towards the bull pen.

"I wouldn't worry about knocking Webb on his ass, sir," Loren commented a few steps down the corridor.

"Oh, why not?" Harm asked as Mac looked around an interested expression on her face.

"Because Legalman One Rabb already did that!" Loren admitted with a huge grin, "I've never seen her so mad at anyone before, not even you, sir!"

Harm had a mental image of Jen winding up a roundhouse punch and sending Webb flying, and found the picture so amusing that he gave a crack of laughter, attracting curious looks from the inhabitants of the bull pen.

Loren taking heart from his amusement ventured one more remark, "So... if you ever hear me call her 'Slugger', that's the reason!"

"She really decked Webb?" Harm asked in amusement.

"She did!" Loren affirmed.

"Damn! Hooyah! Way to go, Jen!" Harm shook his head in wonder, and with a final smile, ducked into his office.

He still hadn't quite stopped chuckling when a tap at his door brought his head around, "Mac, come on in!"

"Yeah, I think I will, if the price is right!" Mac said entering, and indicating a chair.

"Sure, go right ahead... What can I do for you?"

"I did as you suggested and looked through those files. Harm. They are all non-cases, that could and should all be dealt with at an article fifteen... or at the very most with by article thirty-two!"

"That ties in with the half dozen I got," Harm agreed, "Anything else?"

"Yeah, they are all out of town... Quantico, Portsmouth... basically anywhere that takes me out of town for the day..."

"Yeah... and away from our overloaded desks!" Harm added savagely.

"That's a bit cynical, Harm," Mac said immediately catching his drift, "You don't really think that the Admiral would... Oh... Yeah, actually he might, mightn't he?"

"No 'might' about it in my mind Mac. The Admiral was pretty pissed at us, and in retrospect, arguing with him the way I did probably wasn't the smartest thing I ever did..."

"Gee... ya think?" Mac asked sardonically.

"Yeah, I do now, but maybe I should have thought that at the time!" Harm agreed ruefully.

"uh-huh... but the question now is what are we going to do about it?"

"Did it seem to you that Tiner had any sort of record as to which files he was handing us?" Harm asked thoughtfully.

"Harm! You're not considering swapping them out between us, surely?" Mac asked in astonishment.

"Why not? In every case we've been assigned to defend those people. We are obliged to offer them the best advice and defence we can. Their infractions are all minor, and as you say should all have been dealt with at an article fifteen! Hell, I've even got a note on one file from the SJA at Norfolk to the convening authority stating exactly that! So if the best interest of our client is to plead guilty at a Captain's mast, or whatever the Marine Corps equivalent is..."

"Office hours," Mac contributed helpfully.

Harm shot her a quick grin, "Thanks! So as I was saying if that's where their best interests lie, we can save time and government fuel or mileage by dividing them up into two geographical piles. Example: I have one case at Norfolk, that's the one I mentioned with the note from the SJA's office, you?"

"Two; one a drunken disorderly, the other three days UA... but Harm even if we do come up trumps the Admiral isn't going to like it!"

"He hasn't ordered us not to hand off cases to each other, and we do that all the time!" Harm objected.

"Yeah, but he didn't order us not to follow him the other evening, either, and look where that defence got us!" Mac replied.

"Yeah... but are you willing to give it a whirl? Face it, we've got far more serious stuff to worry about this crap – the James case for a start!"

Mac thought for a few long moments while Harm metaphorically held his breath, "OK... here's the way I see it, it's not going to impact too severely on me if he does have a snit... What, what's so funny?" Mac demanded in aggrieved tone.

"Sorry, Mac. It's just I couldn't really picture the Admiral in a 'snit', in a raging bad temper, yes, highly pissed off, yes, but a snit? Really?"

Harm's amusement was infectious and Mac couldn't fight down the grin that appeared on her face as she spread her hands placatingly, "OK, she agreed, bad choice of words – maybe, but you know damn' well what I meant!"

"Yeah, I do... but what did you mean when you said it wouldn't affect you too severely?"

"That post as a CO of the MP battalion," she reminded him.

"You really going through with that, Marine?"

"You bet your six, flyboy! Now, think about it, Harm. If I'm not here to catch some of the flak, it's all going to be heading your way!"

"Yeah... but think about it, even when we both screw the pooch, it's generally me that takes the lion's share of whatever shit is being thrown around!"

Mac nodded, "OK, if you're sure you're going to be able to take the heat let's do it. I'll give you a list of cases by location by secure this evening, and if you do the same for me, we can hammer out an equitable exchange programme tomorrow!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Pardon me, ma'am, but Commander Rabb asked me to exchange this for a similar list from you?"

"Oh... thank you, Lieutenant," Mac rummaged through her out tray for a few seconds and while she did so Loren took a slight advantage of her distraction.

"Oh... I've been looking for these two files, ma'am. May I borrow them? I'll have them back to you in the morning!"

"What, oh, yes, go ahead! Ah... Here it is, thank you, Lieutenant!"

No, thank you ma'am!" Loren replied, and exiting the office she smiled, a small secret smile of satisfaction. 'Phase one completed!'

Five minutes later, with brief case in hand and her cover tucked under her arm Loren knocked on Harm's door, and as he looked up she said, "Are you ready to leave yet?"

"Oh... Loren, I'd love to... but with all this LSO cra... uh... work, I just can't. I did say this morning that it was going to be awkward. I'll be as quick as I can, but it's going to be another hour, at least. Maybe if I call Jen she can collect Sasha from the sitter, save you the cost of an extra shift..."

"No... I don't think so!" Loren declared looking him in the eye and tapping her brief case. "Listen, I've got work in here to do, but I'm going to go home, and be with my daughter while I do it. With my computer and 'phone, I've got all I need to finish the work at home. And so do you! And what's more you've got a wife at home that needs you, or have you forgotten what she's been through the last few days? Do you really think that Jen wants, or needs, time to alone in that house, time to brood after what she's been through?"

"No... you're right, she doesn't... but... what about you? You've been through the same crap, and you..."

"No... I'm coping; it's tough but I'm coping. That talk we had really helped, you know? And this isn't the first shit storm I've ever been through, and this time I've got Sasha to help me. I have to be strong for her, and besides... if it gets too much for me, I can always come and vent to you, can't I?"

"Of course you can!" Harm gave up the struggle and scooping half a dozen files into his own brief case, he grinned, feeling as if a load had been taken off his mind, "Come on then, Lieutenant Rabb, let's go see our families!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Loren replied, 'phase two complete!'

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Dinner was early and quiet, Jen seeming to Harm's worried mind too calm and maybe a little subdued, and it was with a little trepidation he said, once the kitchen had been tidied, "Jen sweetheart, I've had to bring some work home with me... the Admiral's landed Mac and me with a load of extra busy work to keep us out of any more mischief. Are you going to be OK, if I duck into the den, it'll be much easier if I can keep everything in one place..."

Jen looked crestfallen, "Oh... I had hoped for some down time together... but if you've got work to do, then I suppose... or on the other hand, if I promise to be as quiet as a church mouse, I could come and just sit with you... it would make me feel so much better..." she pleaded.

Harm had a very strong suspicion that he was being played, but to what end he couldn't see, and besides it just wasn't within his power to deny that beseeching look on Jen's face, "All right, but promise to be quiet. OK?"

"I promise!" a suddenly and almost miraculously much more cheerful Jen replied, "You go ahead and get set up, I'll just make a pot of tea!" and almost spinning on her heels she reached for the kettle.

With a sigh at her mercurial temperament Harm shook his head and went through to the den. Jen waited until he had left the kitchen and then she opened and closed the kitchen window blinds twice in rapid succession, and smiled as she saw Loren's kitchen blinds repeat her signal.

Forty minutes later Harm had his head down trying to concentrate on the mind numbingly boring minutiae of lease agreements between enlisted rates and sometimes predatory civilian landlords, striking out punitively unfair clauses and annotating where the agreement was too one sided. Jen had been as good as her word, sitting quietly at her desk, but with her chair turned to face him as she cradled her mug of tea, and seemingly taking comfort just from his company.

Both were slightly startled therefore, when Loren's voice broke the silence, "Hello the house!"

Jen was the first to recover, "In the den, Loren!"

Loren appeared at the door, a couple of file covers in one hand and Sasha's porta-crib in the other. "I'm sorry to intrude, but I haven't had to deal with anything like this for a long time, Jen, and was wondering if you could give me a couple of refresher tips?"

"Oh, what have you got?" Jen asked.

"A couple of will forms, that somehow came across my desk, I guess the Admiral's having a pop at me too... and I know you were a real genius with these when we were on the _Seahawk_, so I was wondering..."

"Of course, go and get one of the kitchen chairs and I'll be glad to help."

"And you had to bring Sasha?" Harm asked ironically.

Loren at least had the grace to blush when she answered, "Uh... yeah, she's being a bit fretful, and I didn't want to leave her alone..."

"No, of course not!" Harm agreed with heavy irony eyeing the peacefully sleeping infant.

Work resumed all three maintaining silence for about thirty minutes, the two women's heads together while Harm carried on alone at his desk until eventually Jen said, "There, that should do it Loren; all the i's dotted and all the t's crossed. What's taking you so long, Harm?"

"Damned rent agreements!" Harm grunted.

"Well why didn't you say so!" Jen said in astonishment, "For heaven's sake hand some of them over, you know that sort of thing is a Legalman's bread and butter, and I'm sure Loren won't mind helping out, in return for those will forms."

"No! Of course not!" Loren declared.

Harm glowered at the two oh-so-innocent faces turned towards him, and snorted, "This is a set up!"

Jen looked at Loren and said, "Oh my, we are so busted!" and then grinned at Harm.

"Damn' straight!" Loren chuckled.

"Can't do it, ladies," Harm said regretfully, "I'm the one that's being punished, not you two!"

"But I am being punished!" Jen objected, "If you have to work late at the office, or even bring work home here and then shut yourself away for the evening then it's hurting me too!"

"And if I have to start buying extra gas because you're working late and can't car pool, or I have to pay the sitter for an extra shift, then it's hurting me too!" Loren agreed emphatically.

Harm eyed them grimly, "You're not going to give me any peace over this are you?"

"Nope!" Jen said, popping the 'p', "Not a chance!"

With three heads all busy, the pile of files shrank rapidly, and in less than an hour and a half, Harm was gratefully packing them away in his brief case.

"Thanks, you two, you've been a great help, but no more, do you hear?"

"Loren, did you just hear something?" Jen asked in wide eyed innocence.

"What? You'll have to speak up, I seem to have gone deaf!" Loren retorted, theatrically cupping a hand to her ear. Phase three complete!

Harm just shook his head. He was fighting a losing battle against the combined power of the two women in his family and he knew it.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"It really is for my benefit as well as yours," Jen assured him much later as she squirmed across the bed to rest her head in the hollow of his shoulder. "I'm so much happier when you're here and not stuck at JAG because Mister High and Mighty Chegwidden has got a wire up his ass!"

"Jen!" Harm protested, although he felt pretty much the same way about the Admiral's behaviour, he couldn't reconcile allowing Jen's comments with twenty years of Navy discipline.

"It's true!" Jen protested, "and if I'm feeling happy then so's our daughter!" she stated, bringing out the heavy guns, as she placed Harm's hand on her bump.

"Oh... that's dirty pool!" Harm groaned

"Yeah, I know," Jen twinkled, "But I aim to play this pregnancy card all the way to L and D! Don't forget, it was you that got me this way!"

"I seem to remember you being pretty enthusiastic about helping me!" Harm objected.

"Yeah I was, wasn't I?" Jen chuckled and lapsed into silence.

She was quiet for so long that Harm was sure she had fallen asleep, when her low voiced and pensive "Harm... I was just thinking?" jerked him back to wakefulness.

"H'mm… about what?"

"About me being pregnant and Gloria saying that she was going to talk to her husband about starting their own family... and now... now.. that'll never happen... She lost it all trying to protect us... and I feel so... responsible.

"You're not responsible, sweetheart," Harm reassured her, "It was that animal Kozlovsky and Webb's incompetence! By the way, did you really knock him on his ass – slugger ?"

"Um... yeah... I did, and how did you... Oh... Loren, of course! I'll get her for that!"

Harm smiled to himself and let peace reign once again before he said softly, "Jen... I hate seeing you tear yourself up over this. Do you think you might get some closure if we went to Gloria's funeral?"

"It might work," Jen agreed, "But even if it doesn't, I'd still like to go and say goodbye... we left that place so quickly that we never even did that..."

Harm nodded, "OK, I'll do a bit of digging find out when and where, and if we're welcome..."

"Good point," Jen agreed and finally closed her eyes for sleep.

Harm lay awake for some time afterwards, desperately wanting to sleep, but equally afraid of the same nightmare that had gripped him every time he closed his eyes since he had bought Jen and Loren away from that house with the dead and wounded laid out on the porch and the stale smell of blood and burnt powder thick in the air.

Eventually his eyes fluttered closed, and when they did the nightmare returned. Maybe it was talk of Gloria's funeral, but this time in his dreams he stood by the edge of a grave and received the folded flag that until a few moments ago had covered Jen's coffin.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The next morning a tired Harm, desperately trying to conceal his fatigue kissed Jen goodbye and waved her of from the front door before returning to the kitchen to wash up the breakfast dishes. He heard the babysitter's car pull up on the gravel behind Loren's and the side gate open and close. Five minutes later Loren almost bounced into the kitchen, bubbling with exuberance.

"Hey, calm down there, just a little!" he chuckled, his spirits lifted by the happiness that suffused the blonde Lieutenant's face. "Just how many of those damned happiness pills did you take this morning?"

"None at all!" Loren laughed, "Don't need any!" she thrust her hand into her purse and pulled out a fat, white envelope, "A letter from David! Eight pages! All hand written in real ink, not ball-point!"

"Whoa! Slow down Tiger! Are you trying to tell me that David Medwick, Tuna Medwick – a man who I know hates writing, who has made more excuses about completing paperwork than you could shake a stick at, has sent you an eight page hand-written love letter?"

"It's not a love letter!" Loren denied, "Its just full of news about what he's doing, who the guys in the squadron are, and how he's getting on with them, and that he's got a gift for Sasha, but he can't send it until they get to a naval base with US Forces mail facility, for some reason he says they can't get it on the COD!"

"OK, so it's not a love letter by the sound of it, but how does he sign it?"

"Oh..." Loren blushed furiously.

"Come on, give!" Harm commanded, grinning at the colour of Loren's face as well as her chagrined expression as he picked up his cover and brief case.

"Uh... with my love..." Loren muttered.

"Ah, a love letter then!" Harm said knowingly as he held open the front door for her, ignoring Loren's furious blushes and sputtered denials.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Loren bided her time until after Staff Call when she saw that Mac had left her office and having spoken with Tiner, was admitted into the Admiral's office.

Slipping as unobtrusively around the perimeter of the bull pen, Loren side stepped into Mac's office and placing the two completed files in the other officer's out-tray, helped herself to three more from the in-tray, before returning just as quietly to her own office.

It was a good ten minutes later that Mac emerged from the inner sanctum and instead of heading for her own office, made straight for Harm's.

"Got a minute sailor?" she asked.

Harm studied her for a few seconds, she seemed to be labouring under some strong emotion, "For you? Sure, come on in and take a seat." He waited until she was seated before continuing, "You look a bit pale, everything all right?"

"I...uh... I think so... I just handed my transfer request to the Admiral!"


	63. Coming to Roost

**Chapter 63 **

**Coming Home to Roost**

Harm sat back in his seat and twirled his graduation from law school pen, a present from Frank, in his fingers, "I take it that went down well?" he asked with heavy irony.

"Oh yeah... first he accused me of disloyalty him and to JAG, until I pointed out that I had been fielding transfers from my monitor for the last two and a half years. Not that I think he really believed me, then he said that I was being a fool for letting my heart rule my head..."

"Why would he say that...?" Harm started to say and then caught Mac's eye, "Oh..."

"Yeah, 'Oh'," Mac repeated.

"What did you say to that?" harm asked.

"I told him that my personal circumstances had nothing to do with my decision!" It_ was_ only a half-lie, Mac told herself.

"And?"

"And then he started ranting and raving and accused me of acting like a sulky spoiled child, just because I'd had my wrist slapped!"

Harm winced, "And your response was?"

"I handed him the folder with the transfer papers in, no, I nearly threw it at him, and asked him to check the dates of the various messages and correspondence between myself and my monitor, and was able to show that I'd started proceedings nearly two months ago!" Mac laughed. A bitter sarcastic laugh. "Then he said he'd obviously misjudged me, back-pedalled and tried to talk me out of the transfer. Told me that I was throwing away a fast track to higher things within the world of JAG. When I reminded him that according to the Corps, I needed a command slot for my promotion he offered to find me a slot somewhere within JAG, until I pointed out that all the regional JAG offices are O-6 commands, and that I needed an O-5 command slot to be eligible for O-6. He finally agreed to sign off on the transfer on the condition that I come back to JAG for my staff appointment once I've finished my tour in command!"

"So, you really are leaving us?"

"I am, Harm. Try to understand, it's something I need to do..."

"Oh, I understand all right," Harm said sombrely, "I know that feeling only too well... but Mac, if you'd been able to understand it, four years ago when I needed to do something, when I went back to flying..."

"I did apologise for that Harm! But yeah, maybe things would have been different between us today!"

"Maybe, Mac, maybe." Harm said but even to his ears he sounded unconvincing.

But Mac seemed inclined to let him slide on his lack of enthusiasm, "Yeah, maybe," she said as she stood and smoothed down the creases in the front of her skirt. Well... see you later, sailor!" she said brightly as she turned to leave Harm's office.

"Yeah... later," Harm murmured as he watched her go, feeling strangely unsettled by the thought of Falls Church without Mac in her office.

Mac went back to her office in no way in as light-hearted a mood as she had pretended when she left Harm's office, his last words to her had only convinced her that she really did need to move on, and to get out of JAG and away from Harmon Rabb. But dammit! She didn't want to!

Slumping into her chair she scowled at her desk, sourly eyeing the piles of file folders that awaited her attention, the huge stack in her in in-tray and the much smaller stack in her out-tray. Her scowl became a puzzled frown... there was something wrong with that stack... she was sure she had only completed five files, she just hadn't been in the mood to work late or take work home with her last night, but there were seven... she re-counted the stack, yes, seven of them in her out-tray.

Curious, she took the top file off the stack and opened it, a completed and annotated will-form for a Seaman Fire Controller about to ship out on his first deployment. And she certainly didn't remember reading this file. She looked curiously at the handwriting on the notations on the inside of the of the file cover, they were all in the same hand... a hand that was vaguely familiar... but whose?

Then a memory surfaced, "I've been looking for these two files, may I borrow them..." Loren Rabb's voice filled her mind! And that was why the handwriting was familiar. Quickly she checked the second file, yes, the same handwriting again!

Mac pushed her chair back and picking up the two files, she tucked them under her arm and set out around the edge of the bull pen, making for Loren Rabb's small office.

Mac knocked and waited at the door for Loren to finish her phone call and to acknowledge her. The blonde quickly ended her call with an "I'll call you back," and then rose to her feet as Mac entered her office.

"How may I help you, ma'am?" Loren asked politely, but her eyes flickered to the files under Mac's arm.

Mac took the files in her hand and dropped them on Loren's desk, "Why?" she demanded.

Loren sighed, "I don't suppose saying I haven't got the faintest idea what you're on about would be any good?" she asked hopefully.

"No." Mac said flatly, "So give!"

"Why don't you take a seat, Colonel?" Loren suggested.

Mac eyed her smoulderingly for a few seconds while Loren waited patiently. Eventually Mac gave a sort of huff of exasperation and did as she was asked.

Loren sat down in her own chair and looked across at Mac, trying to decide whether the older woman was genuinely angry or not. But at last, she spread her hands, "It's like this... Harm and I car pool. If he works late, I either have to try to beg a ride from someone else, get a cab, or wait for him and then have to pay my baby sitter for an extra shift, unless Jen can get home in time to stop an overrun on the clock, and that's not always possible with the end of day log jam at the Pentagon parking lot. So when Harm is kept back, I get punished too with having to find cash for extra expenses. So I bullied him into taking work home with him, and I organised with Jen that we would help him with the extra work load. Jen's reacted badly to the shoot-out and it stops her brooding – another reason, by the way, why Harm doesn't need to be stuck here in the office at all hours. Then I realised that in helping him, I wasn't really being fair to you. You were both being loaded with make work, because you both came looking for Jen, Sasha and myself. That, to my mind puts us in your debt. So, a couple of files a day won't make much difference to my work load, but they might after a week or two make a difference to yours!"

"I see... but, you do realise, I didn't come after you and Jen so much as I went with my partner?"

"Doesn't matter what your reason was, Colonel, you were there when we needed you. That's what counts in my book."

"Harm was right," Mac said enigmatically, "You have changed! Thank you for these, but did you help yourself to any more files from my mountain? If so, I'd better have them back!"

"Yeah, I did..." Loren made a pretence of looking through the files on her neatly ordered desk, "But I can't seem to find them right now, but I will get them back to you, Colonel!"

"Before tomorrow, please Lieutenant!" Mac said with heavy meaning.

"Aye, aye, ma'am!" Loren replied mendaciously

Mac stared at her suspiciously for a few seconds and then with a sigh pulled herself to her feet and with a parting nod left Loren to get on with her work.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm compared the two locations lists, and then on a second sheet of paper he made two further lists, re-read them and nodded with satisfaction before leaving his office, lists in hand and walking along the edge of the bull pen to Mac's office.

"Hey Jarhead, got a second?"

"What's up?" Mac asked cautiously.

"Just my idea on combining our two lists of minor cases." he handed her his second list.

Mac waved him to a seat while she scanned the list. The first half was pretty concentrated, geographically that is, four cases at Norfolk, one at Portsmouth and one at Oceana. The other half wasn't quite so neat, two cases at Quantico, two at the Navy Yard here in DC, one at Andrews and, she winced, one at Dover across in Delaware.

"Looks like about as fair as it can be given the locations," she conceded, "but what about the nature of the cases, Oceana, Andrews and Dover are all to do with aviation. Quantico's are two Marines... the others are just... well other."

"You got a problem with that, Mac?" Harm asked in a too-innocent tone of voice.

Mac looked at him sharply, "What? No, no problem, it's just that the aviation cases are in both lists, and you usually like to handle those yourself!"

"What's the matter, Mac?" This time his voice was distinctly teasing, and Mac braced for the follow up. She wasn't disappointed.

"Can't you handle a couple of Aviators?" Harm asked blandly, but his eyes dancing with laughter.

Mac felt as if she should be bristling with indignation, but the humour in his eyes and voice was too much for her to resist. With a grin she shot back, "After so many years dealing with you, no other aviator is going faze me in the slightest!" "

"So... if that's settled, which list do you want?"

Mac looked at the list again, "It doesn't matter how you cut it, we're both going to have to take two days to get through these... the only thing is that whoever takes on the southern list is going to have to overnight at Norfolk..." she shuddered at the memory of Norfolk's VOQs.

"That idea doesn't appeal, huh? OK, I'll take the southern half, and at least that leaves you the two Marines at Quantico!"

"What's the matter, flyboy? Can't you handle a couple of Marines?" As soon as the words left her mouth, Mac knew she had made a mistake.

Harm 's grin threatened to split his head in half, "After dealing with you for years, an extra couple of Jarheads is no problem!"

"Oooh!" Mac groaned in frustration, "Normally I'd say 'get out' after a comment like that, but there's something else..."

"Go on..." Harm invited her, his voice quiet as he saw her change in expression.

"Did you know that Lieutenant Rabb... Loren... snuck some of those LSO files off my desk and cleared them for me..."

"Ah... that's where she got them," Harm murmured.

"Yeah, and when I braced her I found that now she's snuck another two, maybe three files off my desk and says she can't find them right now. I've told her I want them back_ before_ tomorrow, and she sat there like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth and just said 'yes, ma'am,' and I don't believe her! I don't get it. She told me why she was doing it, but it still doesn't make any sense..."

"It wouldn't if she was the old Loren, Mac. But like I told you, she's changed. She's trying to help you, and she's certainly helped me. Put it down to a newly awakened sense of justice if you like. But if I were you, I wouldn't go looking any gift horses in the mouth and when she brings the competed files back, just smile and say 'thank you kindly'."

"But the Admiral?" Mac asked.

Harm could tell she was weakening, "What he doesn't know won't hurt us!" he grinned.

"I s'pose..." Mac said reluctantly.

"So... I'll take the Norfolk and Oceana cases, and you'll..."

"You just want the Oceana case because you hope it'll give you the chance to mooch a ride!" Mac accused him

"Actually, Mac," Harm said quietly, "I'm considering giving up my flight status. Now we've got the baby on the way..."

Mac couldn't help but feel a pang at his words, he had refused to give up his flight status for her, hell, he had even left JAG and her to return to flying, but now... she gave a mental shake of her head, if he was prepared to give up his flying for Jen and their baby it was another indication that he had never felt as deeply for her as he did for Jen. That realisation made it imperative, the sooner she got out of DC and moved on with her life the better!

"No more fatherless, Rabbs, huh?" she asked quietly.

"Got it in one, Mac." he replied equally quietly.

For a few moments they sat looking at each other until Harm stood, "I'll get those northern files across to you ASAP!" he promised.

Mac managed a wry grin, "I'll try and lay my hands on those southern ones!" she indicated the scattered stacks of files that covered her desk.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"So... do I have to expect a repeat performance of last night's little farce?" Harm asked Loren as he lounged against her door frame.

Loren blushed, "Uh... well... I was... uh... sort of planning to bring Sasha over so you could play with her a bit, I know how much you both love that," she admitted, not quite able to meet his eyes.

"And I suppose that while I was playing with her, you would have just sort of looked idly at a file or two, just to keep yourself from being bored?" Harm said ironically.

"Uh... yeah... well... just about..." Loren confessed.

"Come on then, Loren Rabb! Grab your stuff – and Mac's files – and let's get out of here! It's home time!"

"Oh... she told you about the files?"

"Yep, you are so busted!" Harm grinned and held the door open for her as Loren grabbed her brief case, purse and cover.

Five minutes later saw them booked out at the CP and settling into their seats in the Lexus, "What time were you figuring on bringing Sasha over to play with me?" Harm asked teasingly.

"Uh... about seven, after dinner," Loren answered.

"Bring her over at about eighteen fifteen," Harm suggested, that way I can play with her while you and Jen fix dinner and then we can all sit down together..."

"You sure Jen won't mind?"

"Jen? Mind? Mind having Sasha in the house for the evening? Have you lost your mind, woman?" Harm asked incredulously.

"I guess that _was_ a pretty dumb question!" Loren grinned.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The evening, as amended by Harm, went pretty much as the previous night had done. Loren fed Sasha after the adults had eaten and Harm played gently with the increasingly sleepy infant while Loren and Jen tidied the kitchen, until about half an hour after her feed, Sasha yawned disgracefully and her eyes drooped shut as she lay on Harm's chest while he reclined on the couch. With a smile, he slowly got to his feet and gently deposited her in her porta crib, not knowing that he was being observed by two pairs of eyes, one brown and one blue, from the archway that led through to the kitchen.

With Sasha asleep, Harm, Jen and Loren adjourned to the den and got to work. Finally, at about ten Jen put down her pen and shook the cramps out of her wrist. "That's it for the night!" she declared firmly,and nodded towards Sasha, who was beginning to stir.

"Why don't you go and make us all some hot chocolate?" she asked Harm, "While Loren gives me more lessons in baby-handling!"

"Yeah, like you need them!" Loren sniffed, but with a smile, "Oh... all right then mom-to-be, come on and I'll let you hold the clean diaper!"

"More like make me deal with the dirty one!" Jen retorted with a grin.

Harm looked at the half-dozen completed files, all of them bar one horrendously complicated lease agreements, and at the three files that Loren had contributed to the evening, and nodded his head in satisfaction. It had been a good evenings work.

Later, much later, after Sasha had been cleaned, changed and fed, the hot chocolate drunk, and Loren and Sasha had returned to the ranch-house at the bottom of the yard, Harm and Jen lay in bed together, her head resting as usual on his chest as she listened to the deep steady thump-thump of his heart.

"Did you find out about the funeral," Jen asked quietly.

"No news yet, I spoke to Gloria's husband, and he's willing to let us attend. But he's still waiting for the CIA to release her body to the funeral home... he's getting a little bit upset about the delay, and all he's getting from Langley is stonewalling..."

"Oh, Harm... that isn't right! Can't you do something to hurry them along... that poor man..."

"There's not much I can do," Harm confessed, my number one contact at Langley – Webb – is in hospital, and without him I don't have any influence over there... I could ask the Admiral, explain what's happening... or..."

"Or what?" Jen asked

"Well... I've met this CIA attorney a couple of times. She seems pretty straightforward for a spook lawyer. I'm not saying she can, or will even be willing to help, but..."

"It couldn't hurt, huh?" Jen finished his sentence for him.

"Yeah, you're right, it couldn't hurt."

"Thank you Harm!" Jen levered herself up onto an elbow and dropped a gentle kiss on his lips, before snuggling back down to put her head back on his shoulder, her arm draping across his chest as she readied herself for sleep, "G'night Harm..." she smiled.

"Goodnight, Jen," Harm replied.

Jen's soft, steady breathing soon told him that she had fallen asleep, but Harm lay on his back, staring at the darkened ceiling, desperately wanting to sleep but dreading the nightmare that he was sure was waiting for him.

Eventually, unable to fight off fatigue any longer, his eyes fluttered closed. And the dream began.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"How are you doing, Jen?" Angela asked her the following morning as she placed a cup of lemon grass tea on Jen's desk

"Uh... OK, I guess," Jen said, "I still get a bit upset if I start thinking about it all, but Harm's been bringing some work home with him the last couple of evenings, the sort of stuff I used to do on board ship, and I can lose myself in that, just helping him, for a couple of hours until it's time for bed. I sort of pretend to go to sleep, 'cause Harm won't relax until he thinks I am sleeping, and sometimes I manage it OK – little Miss Rabb in here tires me out," Jen placed her hand on her bump, "but sometimes I only doze and then I get all tense 'cause I'm just waiting..."

"Waiting? Waiting for what?" Angela asked.

"Harm," Jen said, a note of despair in her voice, "He's having bad dreams... but when I ask how he slept, he just says 'fine' in that offhand way that men do..."

Angela nodded, she'd had similar conversations with her own husband when something was troubling him.

"But not a word of what I've said to Harm if he comes into the office!" Jen warned her friend.

"Of course not!" Angela grinned, trying to lighten the atmosphere, "It would never do to let him know you care about him!"

Jen did manage a grin at that.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"_Sir_?"

"Yes Tiner?"

"_Commander Saunders and three other officers to see you sir_!"

"About time! Send 'em in Tiner!"

"_Aye, aye, sir_!"

Chegwidden waited until the four officers halted in line abreast in front of his desk. On the left of the line as he looked at it was Commander Saunders, next to her a blonde Lieutenant Junior Grade who had a half sullen, half scared look on her face, then a sandy-haired Lieutenant and next to him, a look of sullen defiance on his face, stood another Lieutenant whose dark hair was just a little too long for regulations and who, in Chegwidden's eyes, could have taken a step closer to his razor this morning.

"Commander Saunders, Lieutenant JG Pearson, Lieutenants Vukovic and Jackson reporting, sir!"

"About damn' time!" Chegwidden snapped. You were supposed to be here yesterday, Commander!"

"Yes, sir! 'Plane malfunction cost us eighteen hours at Tinker AFB, Oklahoma, sir!"

"And you couldn't call?"

"Begging the Admiral's pardon sir, but I did. I spoke to the CP, and I also asked the Air Force to call JAG and let you know when we were airborne again sir!"

"Very well!" Chegwidden replied, taking his officer at her word, but privately vowing to tear a new one for the Marine Captain commanding the security detachment, as well as blistering the ear of whoever screwed up at Tinker. Damn' Zoomies!

Chegwidden looked along the line, his eyes coming to rest on the two male officers, "Which of you two is Vukovic?" he demanded

"Sir!" it was the dark-haired Lieutenant who snapped out the single syllable and Chegwidden nodded in satisfaction, his guess had been correct. "All right, Commander, I know why Lieutenants Vukovic and Pearson are present, but what part has Mister Jackson got in these proceedings?"

"Sir, Lieutenant Vukovic is facing serious charges including attempted murder, coercion, obstructing justice, and witness intimidation. Judge Weston at Pearl ordered an investigation into the Lieutenant's circumstances and ruled that he was a flight risk as well as posing a risk to potential trial witnesses and should therefore be placed in pre-trial confinement. Lieutenant Jackson is present as Lieutenant Vukovic's escort, until such time that he can hand the Lieutenant over to the competent authority, sir!"

"I see. Have you a copy of the judgement?" Chegwidden asked.

"Sir, yes, sir!" Saunders pulled a manilla envelope from her inside breast pocket and handed it to the Admiral.

Chegwidden read it through and then grunted, "Well, I have no intention of flying in the face of a judicial ruling!" He reached out a hand and stabbed at the call button on his intercom, "Tiner!"

"_Sir_!"

Get onto the Security Detachment and get them to organise a car and a driver to convey an officer to the Navy Yard Brig for pre-trial confinement, and then to take his Brig Chaser... where?" he looked up at Lieutenant Jackson.

"I fly out tomorrow afternoon,sir, back to Pearl... but I have a sister who works on the Hill, and has an apartment near GWU, sir!"

"Did you get that, Tiner?"

"_Yes, sir, to the GWU neighbourhood_!"

"Thank you. Oh, and 'phone the Brig and let them know he's on his way!"

"_Aye, aye,sir_!"

"Lieutenant Jackson, take your prisoner away, down to the CP and wait for your transport!"

"Aye, aye, sir! Lieutenant!" he ordered Vukovic who performed a sloppy about face, almost walking around in tight circle, rather than the crisp pivot demanded by the manual of arms.

Chegwidden turned his attention to the blonde officer, "Well, that was easily enough settled, Lieutenant, but what to do with you!"

Pearson, perhaps wisely, said nothing. Commander Saunders however spoke up, "I've arranged for the Lieutenant to be accommodated at VOQs at Anacostia, sir, and explained that she must hold herself in readiness for Commander Lindsey's article thirty-two hearing, or court-martial if he elects to go straight to trial."

"That's all very well, Commander. But it doesn't cover how we are to employ the Lieutenant until such time as either of those events occur! I am sure you will both appreciate that given the Lieutenant's prior reluctance to testify that I am not about to consider placing her on administrative leave!"

"No, sir," Commander Saunders replied, while Pearson remained silent.

"One thing I do know, Lieutenant, is that Congresswoman Latham will want to speak to you about your complaint alleging harassment by a JAG officer at Pearl. Would you care to explain that to me, for a start, because I find it damned odd that you make a statement, and then turn around and allege harassment?"

"Sir, when I first heard about the case, it was by a telephone call from one of your officers here in DC. I told him I didn't want to testify. Then a Lieutenant Commander from Pearl came to see me at my duty station. She was very understanding and explained to me why I couldn't not testify, and how if I didn't I would be leaving other girls open to the same sort of treatment I had. So we sat down and made my statement. Then that other Lieutenant, Vukovic came to see me a couple of days later and warned me that if I didn't withdraw my statement then something unpleasant might happen to me. When I asked what he meant, he mentioned surfing accidents and sharks, and brake failures on mountain roads... And I got scared. So I made up the story about being harassed. I thought if I did that then Jag would back off, and I'd be OK..."

Chegwidden felt a stab of sympathy for a very young woman totally out of her depth, but he also knew that her behaviour could neither be condoned nor excused.

"Lieutenant, do you want to stay in the Navy?" he demanded.

"Oh, yes, sir! Really I do!"

"Well... what I'm about to say may seem harsh. But it needs saying, first off you need to grow a backbone! Secondly you need to admit, especially to yourself, where you have gone wrong, and accept responsibility for your actions. I don't know at this point whether it will be possible for you to remain in the service, but if I see signs that you are attempting to correct these faults in your character, then I will do what I can to help you. Is that understood?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Good. Commander Saunders, unless you have any great objection, and until further notice, will you please take on the task of providing transport on a daily basis from Anacostia and back for the Lieutenant?"

"Of course, sir!" Saunders replied. The Admiral might have phrased his requirements as a request, but both junior officers recognised a veiled order when it was given.

"In the meantime, I will give some thought as to how you might be employed until the Lindsey case comes up. For the moment, dismissed! Wait in the outer office!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Pearson's about face, unlike Vukovic's feeble effort, was a creditable attempt at performing the movement.

Chegwidden shook his head as he stared into the middle distance for a second, and then returned his attention to Commander Saunders, "Take a seat, Commander," he invited her, "and tell me what you plan to do next?"

"Tomorrow sir, I intend to chase down Lieutenants Toranama and Martinelli and re-interview them, and there's a Personnelman in Commander Manetti's office that I need to interview as well, or so I understand from the notes Commander Rabb handed over to me... and one of your own officers too, sir, a Lieutenant Singer, I understand."

"Yeah... Lieutenant Rabb, as she is now." Chegwidden corrected her.

"She's married to Commander Rabb, sir? I thought that regs..."

"No, she's not married to him... but she is the mother of his absent brother's child and the family adopted her for the baby's sake, so she changed her name... It's all a bit too complicated for me. And I hate getting involved in my staff's personal life! But one thing I do know, he is fiercely protective of her!" Chegwidden snorted half-amused as he remembered how much Rabb had apparently fretted over the Lieutenant and her baby as he had over his wife.

"Assuming that you get through your interviews within say... the next seventy-two hours, what next?"

"If I am convinced that interviews support fully the case, then I will charge Commander Lindsey with multiple counts of conduct unbecoming an officer, and move to trial."

"What about the hints of a cover up, at a higher level than Lindsey's pay-grade?"

"If that is the case, then unless I am pretty much mistaken in Lindsey's character, he'll give up names under pressure. No sir," she correctly interpreted Chegwidden's expression, "I don't see myself as having to play a KGB heavy, I reckon he'll just fold."

Chegwidden thought for a moment and then nodded, "Sounds like a pretty good plan to me! Now, keep a friendly eye on Miss Pearson... she's not in custody and technically you're not responsible for her, but if she goes UA, I shall not be a happy camper, _capisce_?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Good! In the meantime, I'll get Lieutenant Sims to organise you an office with a desk and a phone. It probably won't be in the bull pen, but that might prove to be a good thing..."

"Yes, sir!"

"Good. In the meantime... what news on Commander Turner?"

"I visited with him last night, sir. The medicos at Tripler are pretty happy that there is no lasting head trauma, although he was pretty heavily concussed. His fractures have been reduced and he's in plaster. He anticipates being back in DC within a week sir!"

"That's good news! He may have been caught napping this time, but then, who would expect that sort of violence in a case like this... However, he is a pretty astute attorney, which is why I had him PCS'd to here in the first place. We'll all be glad to see him back!"

"Yes, sir!"

"All right, Commander, get yourself and Lieutenant Pearson to Anacostia and get yourselves settled in. I'll see you both at zero eight hundred hours tomorrow!"

Saunders stood, smoothing down the creases in the front of her skirt as she did so, and assuming a full brace snapped out "Aye, aye, sir!" before about facing and quitting the Admiral's office.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm looked up as Mac knocked on his office door-frame for the second time that day, "Commander Babs is finally back from Pearl," she observed, with more than just a hint of irony in her voice, "And it looks like she's brought a Barbie clone with her..."

"The mysterious, elusive and hard to pin down Lieutenant JG Pearson?" Harm speculated.

"Could be, sailor, could be..."


	64. Mutual Misunderstandings

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 64  
>Mutual Misunderstandings<strong>

Mac looked more closely at Harm, his answer had seemed half-hearted, and for a second it had looked like he was fighting off a yawn. And were those the beginning of dark circles under his eyes? Yes they were! He was definitely looking tired.

"OK, if I sit?" Mac asked, with a nod towards the two chairs in front of Harm's desk.

"Sure... what's up?" Harm replied.

"You tell me, sailor," Mac riposted as she sat, smoothing her skirt beneath her.

"I don't know what you mean!" Harm said, somewhat defensively Mac thought.

"Don't try to hand me any of your BS, Harm, I've known you for too long. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong!" Harm snapped, fighting to keep control of his temper, "So why don't you go do some work and leave me alone so I can get on with mine!"

Mac blinked, that sort of outburst was so not Harm, it was, she recognised with an inward groan, more like her. "I don't think so, Harm," she said, her voice level and, as best she could manage, non-confrontational. "You sounded more like me with PMS than yourself just then..." she tried to lighten the mood with a little humour.

That seemed to have some effect, as Harm managed a weak grin, "That bad, huh? Well, yeah, I guess I'm just a little tired..."

Mac's forehead furrowed, it was in the nature of law school that students sometimes put in all night study sessions, but she and Harm were long past needing to do that, and anyway, after years of study and watch-keeping and flying missions at all hours of the day and night Harm should have become inured to losing a little sleep. "Just how late have you and Jen been working on the files you've been taking home?" she demanded as a sudden suspicion occurred to her.

"Not that late!" Harm defended himself, "We wrap up at about ten each night!" he saw the sceptical expression cross Mac's face, "Go ask Loren, if you don't believe me!" he growled.

"OK..." Mac answered in a reasonable tone of voice, "Let's just say – for the moment – that I do believe you, and you finish working by ten, what time do you get to bed?"

"Just why are you pushing this, Mac? It's not really any of your concern!"

"Well, yes, it is actually. I've still not been replaced as Chief of Staff – I reckon the Admiral's reserving the pleasure of dumping that on you until just before I go TAD – and as such, part of my responsibility is to ensure the smooth operation of the office. Now, if you start snapping at the support staff, the same way that you've just snapped at me, then pretty soon we're going to have a morale problem. Harm, I'm the one with the uncertain temper, you are the calm, cool, collected and approachable one who the staff rely on to calm me down – that doesn't always work," she acknowledged with a grin, "But when it doesn't that's usually because you were the one who set me off in the first place! But I'm getting off the point here. If you're going to bed at a normal hour and you're getting up at a normal hour, why are you looking so tired?"

But before Harm could formulate an answer Mac answered her own question, "You're not sleeping properly are you?"

Harm just sat and glared at her with the expression of a man goaded beyond endurance, "All right, I'm having trouble sleeping, I'll deal with it! Happy now!?"

"No, not really... how come Jen hasn't noticed, or said anything?"

"She has, and I tell her just what I've told you! It's no big thing, and I'm dealing with it!"

"You might think you're dealing Harm, but you're not! Why aren't you sleeping? How long's this been going on? Oh...dumb question! Since the Kozlovsky thing, right?"

"Yeah," Harm mumbled, not quite able to meet Mac's eye.

"What's so different about Kozlovsky... we've both been where the dill pickles before..."

"It's not about us, as in you and me. Like you said, we've both been there before, both shooting and being shot at, I don't have much of a problem with that, not enough to keep me awake at nights, anyway! It's Jen... and Loren and Sasha... They were mixed up in it because of me. I failed them. I'm Jen's husband and Loren's step-brother, I should have been the one to protect them, not that SNAFU Webb! If I had been doing my job properly, Kozlovsky wouldn't' have got anywhere near Jen and Loren... don't you remember how close I was... how close we were... to losing them?"

"But we didn't lose them, Harm, you need to remember that! And it _was_ us that saved them! You did your job in protecting your family!" Mac said earnestly.

"Yeah, then why am I having nightmares about being at Jen's funeral!" Harm snapped out, and then a look of consternation spread across his face. "Oh crap, did I just say that out loud?"

"Yeah, you did... Harm, have you talked this through with Jen?"

"Of course not! She's got enough to handle with her own thoughts and feelings. She thinks she's fooling me, but half the time I know she's not asleep. I'm not going to dump my dumb dreams on her too!"

Mac looked at him, her previous expression of concern now replaced by worry, "Harm, you know, you and Jen really do need to sit down and talk this through. Let each other know how you're feeling!"

"Yeah, right! I'm going to take advice from Miss Successful Relationship of the Year?" he scoffed angrily.

Mac felt the tears prick her eyes, in a way Harm was right, she had screwed up, but she made an effort to keep her temper and to keep her voice even as she responded, "No, we all know," her gesture encompassed the whole office, "what my track record with relationships is like, but I hope I've learned from the experience. Don't follow my example, Harm, learn from my mistakes, instead of making the same ones I did! And if you can't to Jen, talk to me, or... or somebody!"

"Somebody?" Harm just stared at her through narrowed eyes.

"Yeah!" Mac cut back at him, "Somebody! Like a therapist, maybe! Had you thought that you might just be going into PTSD?"

"A shrink? Oh, yeah, that's going to look real good on my record," Harm sneered.

"Harm, sometimes you are damned impossible! I'm going to go now before either of us says something we'll regret. But think over what I said, will you?"

Ham grunted a grudging assent, or at least Mac hoped it was assent, as she got to her feet, and with a last long look at her partner, left his office and headed back to her own, where she quietly closed the door and the blinds while she mopped her eyes and blew her nose.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"This is it, I'm afraid ma'am," Harriet Sims said somewhat apologetically, "It's not very big and probably not what you're used to, but it's all we've got, I'm afraid!"

"What was it, a broom closet?" Babs Saunders asked resignedly.

"Uh, no ma'am... it was a storage closet... but at least you got a window, ma'am!"

"Yes, I suppose that's a benefit..." Bas crossed to the window and turned back with an ironic grin, "With a nice view of the dumpsters!"

Harriet managed an embarrassed half-grin, "I really am sorry, ma'am, but this the only..."

"It's OK, Lieutenant... stop apologising. If this is all there is then I'll just have to learn to like it! Now..." she looked at the monitor on the desk and the computer tower tucked under the desk overhang, "Does this thing work?"

"The computer works OK, ma'am, but you'll have to be granted rights and set up with a password. I'll get Tiner to come and set that up for you in a few minutes."

"Tiner? Is he the IT guy? I thought he was the Admiral's Yeoman."

"He is ma'am. But if we relied on the IT Specs to come and sort out access and the rest of it, we could be waiting two, maybe three days. And anyway, Tiner is just as clued in on these things. Him and my husband..." Harriet sighed.

"That'll be fine, but there's just one other thing... can you find another chair for Lieutenant Pearson? I've a feeling we're going to be spending a fair bit of time in each other's company!"

Harriet shot a look at the young JG, "Yes, ma'am, but it's going to be pretty cosy in here!"

"Can't be any worse than an office on board ship," Babs grinned.

"No, ma'am!" Harriet agreed, heartily relieved that the other officer wasn't reaming her out over the inadequate office space that was all Harriet had been able to find. God knows what she was going to do when the defence attorney started his TAD!

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

A J Chegwidden stood before the large window that looked out over the JAG parking lot and onto the town of Falls Church beyond it, not that he was enjoying, or even properly seeing the view. His hands were clasped lightly behind his back and his forehead was creased in thought. Mac had certainly dropped a bombshell on him this morning with her transfer request, and surprise had made him react poorly. He could, he told himself severely, have handled the issue much better.

But his reaction had given him pause for thought, if he had flown off the handle over a routine personnel request, how had he been acting over other, more... sensitive matters? Had his outburst and the unofficial punishments he handed out so carelessly to Mac and to Rabb really been merited? After all, Rabb had only acted as any husband would – should – have done, and Mac had backed him up - again exactly as a good, loyal partner should. He couldn't resist a wintry grin as he recalled the sight she had made with a pair of over-sized jogging bottoms, a C shirt and the heels snapped off her pumps. The CMC would have had a fit if he'd seen her.

He glanced to his right where her transfer papers, waiting for his signature, lay on his desk blotter. Mac was well within her rights to ask for a transfer, she had completed nearly twice the length of a normal tour at JAG, and she did need O-5 command experience, and then a staff job if she was ever to make that step to O-6. Not, he concluded regretfully, that her promotion to Bird-Colonel was a likely event, she simply had too many blots on her record. To balance those, somewhat, she was a damn' fine attorney – maybe not quite as good as she thought and she did have a habit of losing to Rabb, and he wondered, not for the first time, if that was an unconscious thing on her part. But she was also a fine investigator, and when partnered with Rabb they had almost performed miracles together. They were a good team, despite their occasional, hell, frequent, spats, and those were mostly Rabb's fault. He had an indefinable talent for pushing Mac's buttons. But was it always his fault? Much as Chegwidden hated to admit it, Mac was sometimes over-sensitive and judgemental, and she could be petty, sometimes harboured a grudge for months and was not one to easily forgive or forget. Even so, she had been a more than competent member of his team and would be hard to replace.

Commander Saunders might be a replacement for her... she certainly seemed to have cracked the Vukovic and Turner case in Pearl quickly enough, and had managed to ferret out the reason behind Pearson's seemingly inexplicable claim of harassment. But it went deeper than that. He had a coterie of O-5's: Rabb, Imes, Mattoni. Turner, of whom only Rabb could really be considered a good field investigator. Imes was competent, but lacked both the insight of Rabb and a solid, regular partner. Turner was still pretty new at the game, but had been showing promise, but again had no regular partner. Mattoni was quite honest in his dislike for field work, he was much happier in the law library or court room,

Part of the problem was chronic under manning, all of his O-4 positions were gapped, and had been for the last couple of years as those officers had been required to fill more urgent billets afloat, and furthermore he only had two lieutenants who were capable of taking on any cases more demanding than a simple UA, DDO or insubordination charge.

No, there was only one thing for it; he was going to have to lock horns with the SecNav and BUPERS detailers and get some attorneys rotated in before JAG went under, submerged by the sheer volume of cases.

The decision made, he returned to his chair and reluctantly scrawled his approval of Mac's transfer request and then placed it in his out tray. He reached for the top folder balanced precariously on the pile in his in-tray but was interrupted by the buzz of his intercom.

"What is it Tiner?" he asked.

"_Lieutenant Sims wants to know if you can spare her a few minutes, sir,_" Tiner's voice crackled through the wires.

"Oh... send her in, Tiner!" Chegwidden almost, not quite, sighed. It didn't look like he was going to get much work done for the rest of the morning.

The door opened in response to his barked "Enter" and a smiling Harriet Sims carefully closed it behind her, before she turned and still smiling approached the Admiral's desk.

"All right, Lieutenant, what's so damned funny that it's got you smiling like a damn' Cheshire cat?" Chegwidden growled.

Harriet Sims smile became, if anything, broader, "Not a smile of amusement, sir, but one of sheer pleasure! And I nearly missed the cause of it, sir!"

Chegwidden sat back and eyed her grimly, he really wasn't in the mood for guessing games, but somehow the blonde officer's pleasure, amusement, joy, happiness, whatever, was infectious, and when he spoke it was with much less irritation in his voice, "Come on then, Lieutenant don't keep me in the dark, enlighten me!"

"As I said, sir, I nearly missed it and filed it away without bringing it to your attention. She unclipped a sheet of paper from her clip board and handed it to the Admiral, "The highlighted section, sir. Third name from the top!"

Chegwidden took the offered sheet of paper and picking up his reading glasses from his blotter, quickly read the letter heading, "Virginia State Bar Association, Circular 11/2008" and then let his eyes drop to the highlighted section, and as his gaze lit on the third name from the top, his face split into the widest grin that Harriet had ever seen on the former Seal's face. "Thank you for this, Harriet!" he tapped the sheet of paper with a finger nail and then raised his voice to a quarterdeck bellow, "Tiner! Get in here!"

The door shot open and Tiner almost bolted into the officer and stood at attention in font of the desk, "Sir?"

Chegwidden's grin had been replaced by a ferocious scowl, "have you seen this, Tiner? And if so, why did I have to wait for Lieutenant Sims to bring it to my attention?"

"I don't know, sir!" Tiner admitted, "What is it, sir?"

"This Tiner, is the latest Virginia State Bar Association circular, and amongst all the other cra... uh... rubbish it contains," he shot an apologetic look in Harriet's direction, "it also has the results from the latest State Bar Examinations, and featuring, third from the top out of..." he made a hasty count, "Eleven candidates, is the name J E Tiner! That is you?" he demanded peering over the top of his glasses at the younger man.

"Y... yes, sir!" Tiner stammered.

"So why didn't you tell me?" Chegwidden asked in aggrieved tone.

"Uh... you were kind of busy with lots of other stuff, sir, and I was just waiting for the right moment to ask for a minute of your time..."

Chegwidden relaxed, "Son, any time to tell me about this would have been the right time! Congratulations, Yeoman!"

"Sir, thank you, sir!"

"But this doesn't excuse you from duty!" Chegwidden made an effort to restore his customary gruffness, but for once failed to convince either lieutenant or yeoman, "So get back to work – both of you. Oh... Lieutenant?"

"I'm sure I can rely on you to organise some sort of appropriate celebration, say Friday or Saturday evening?"

"Yes, sir!" Harriet beamed, while Tiner blushed.

"Go, dismissed!" Chegwidden said, and waiting for them to depart, he sat down in the Big Chair and sliding open one the desk drawers he pulled out and opened a slim folder. Unscrewing his pen cap, he wrote "Approved unconditionally" across the bottom of the single sheet of paper, and then signed his name to Jason Tiner's application for OCS.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm was conscience stricken. He had been fretting all morning about the conversation he'd had with Mac. Mac was, for once, trying to be supportive, and all he had done was to snap at her and take a cheap shots about her past attitude and past relationship failures. And what's more, she had been big enough to apologise to him for her past behaviour... OK, it had been a blanket apology rather than with reference to any particular incident, but even so...

With a sigh he closed the file on his desk and pulled himself to his feet. He could do with a cup of coffee too, and he was well aware of the soothing properties of caffeine when he came to calming one particular Marine's fury.

One again though Murphy and his cohorts had conspired against him, he arrived at the galley just as Yeoman Two Greer emptied the last of the coffee from the previous brew.

The red haired and generously freckled young woman gasped, and her pale skin seemed to turn even paler, "Oh, sir! I'm sorry... Here you take this one, I can easily wait to brew fresh..."

"No, no thank you Yeoman Two, I need two cups, you cut along and never mind me!" He spoke pleasantly enough and even made an attempt to smile, but there must have been something about voice or expression. because Greer straightened up, almost adopting a brace before blurting "Aye, aye, sir!" and nearly bolting from the galley.

Harm shook his head in resignation, he really needed to lighten up! Almost on auto-pilot, he fed the machine with the requisite amounts of coffee and water and then waited until it's dying gurgle told him the brew was ready. Pouring two mugs, he carefully carried them across the bull pen towards Mac's office, only to stop and stare in consternation at the unlit space behind the closed door.

Looking around he saw Harriet at her work station, a scowl of concentration on her face as she typed at a furious pace. He waited until she seemed to reach a natural break, "Lieutenant Sims?"

Harriet's head shot up as if it had been jerked by a wire, "Sir?"

"Any idea where the Colonel is?"

Harriet bit her lip, her eyes shadowed with concern, in the past the Commander had always seemed to sense when the Colonel was in the building, or not, as the case might be. This was now twice in a relatively short space of time when that sense of her presence had let him down.

"She went to the Navy Yard, sir, to interview a client."

"Oh..." Harm felt remarkably foolish standing in the middle of the bull pen with two mugs of coffee in his hand, "Did she say when she'd back?"

"No, sir, but she's been gone most of the morning, so I shouldn't think she'd be much longer, sir."

"I won't be," Mac's voice came from behind them. "Were you looking for me, Commander?" she added in a formally cold manner.

"Uh... yes, I was... Mac... uh... we need to talk..."

"Fine. I'll call you when I can spare two minutes!" she said as she swept past him and opened her office door.

"Mac..." he said protestingly.

"I said, I'll call you when I have time, Commander!" Mac repeated and then firmly closed her office door.

Harm looked down at the mugs of coffee he still held, and raised an ironic eyebrow at Harriet, "Coffee?" he suggested.

Harriet managed a half-smile, but her troubled gaze was fixed on Mac's door, "No, thank you, sir, but maybe the Gunny?"

"Maybe..." Harm replied as he put both coffee's down on the momentarily absent Gunnery Sergeant's desk before weaving his way back across the bull pen toward his own office.

Harriet watched him go and her shoulders slumped as she looked in turn at him and at Mac's door, "Damn!" she muttered.

"Ma'am?" The young seaman passing heard her say something, but hadn't heard what.

"Nothing, Seaman, thank you," Harriet smiled as she sat down again, but it was a good five minutes before she returned her attention to the document displayed on her computer screen.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Mac glowered at nothing in particular. Damn Harmon Rabb anyway! He could go to hell for all she cared. She had tried to offer friendly advice only to have her nose bitten off. Well if he wanted to play ass-hole, then so could she!

The trouble was she needed to talk with him about the James' case, but now she'd made it almost impossible for her to approach him, probably for the rest of the day. To do so now, would only make her previous snub of him look childishly petulant!

Heaving a sigh, she focussed her eyes on the stack of files waiting for her attention, and once again her eyes narrowed. A quick count showed that there were another three files missing! So... damn both Rabbs! She jumped to her feet intent on storming around the bull pen to Loren Rabb's office and demanding that she handed back those files right here and right now!

She had barely made the decision when a knock on the door froze her in her tracks, "Come!" she snapped.

The door opened to reveal Harriet Sims carrying two mugs of coffee. Mac raised her eyebrows, "Lieutenant?" she queried.

"Yes, ma'am," Harriet agreed, "I noticed you've been out of the office a while, and I figured that you could do with a cup of coffee?"

Mac stifled her irritation, "Yes, thank you, Lieutenant... but why two mugs?" she demanded.

"Well, I guess it wouldn't be right mannerly of me to let you drink it alone ma'am!"

"And what if I said that I didn't have time for a coffee?" Mac asked.

"Well, I guess I would just have to say, 'yes, ma'am' and leave, with bowed head, slumped shoulders and slow, dragging steps, ma'am," Harriet replied cheerfully, "but all the while thinking what a lousy liar you are, ma'am!"

"That's insubordination, Lieutenant!" Mac said warningly.

"Uh... no, ma'am, it's not. You asked 'what if', positing a hypothetical situation, and I answered giving my hypothetical response... so you see ma'am it never happened!" Harriet said, a grin twitching the corners of her mouth.

"Damn you, Harriet Sims," Mac said, but without rancour as she slumped back into her chair

"So... I take it you do have time for a coffee?" Harriet grinned.

"Dammit, yes! Oh, sit down Harriet!"

Both women sat and drank their coffee in silence for a couple of minutes until Harriet put her mug down on the edge of Mac's desk, "Permission to speak freely, ma'am?"

Mac snorted in cynical amusement, "And when did you ever not? Oh... go on, then!"

"What's put a bug up your ass, ma'am. You were fine when you came in this morning, and then when you just got back from the Navy Yard you just about tore the Commander a new one!"

"You got it in a nutshell, Harriet! As usual it's Rabb... no... In fact it's both the Rabbs!"

"Jennifer?" Harriet asked in surprise, not seeing how anything Jennifer had done today could have affected Mac.

"No! Not Jennifer! The Commander and Lieutenant Rabb!"

Harriet blinked, "Uh... how did they manage that, ma'am?"

"Well first off... had you noticed that Harm... I mean the Commander, is looking tired?"

"Yeah, kind of... but with the extra work the Admiral landed him with, it's hardly surprising, and you've been doing a bit of both ends of the candle burning these last couple of days too!"

"Yeah, well, that's not the issue at stake! I noticed he was tired and irritable, so I went to see him this morning, to ask if I could help in any way, and he just about chewed my ass off and told me not to interfere, that whatever was wrong he was dealing with it!"

Harriet winced, "And I suppose the conversation got a bit heated?" she asked.

"No... I don't thinks so..." Mac replied slowly as she considered exactly what had been said in Harm's office, "I think I had enough self-control not lash out back at him... or I may just have been too shocked. I don't think I've ever heard him quite so defensive..."

"Ah... well that's understandable then, ma'am... but where does Loren... uh... Lieutenant Rabb fit into the picture?"

"Oh that's a different matter entirely... and since when did Lieutenant Rabb become Loren to you?"

"Since I discovered I was pregnant again, and Jen invited Loren and I to join a mother's mutual aid society," Harriet said casually.

"Oh... yeah, that makes sen... Wait a minute! You're pregnant again? Oh, Harriet that's wonderful! But why didn't you tell me?"

"I just did!" the blonde grinned, "but it's not general knowledge yet. Bud and I, well, we don't want to make big fuss this time... not after Baby Sarah..."

"Of course not Harriet, but congratulations!" Mac smiled across the desk at her friend.

But Harriet just smiled back and shook her head, "Oh no," she said in mock reproof. "Nice try at deflection, counsellor, but it ain't going to work! Just what did Loren Rabb to do upset you?"

"Damned interfering wi... uh... woman!" Mac grated out, the fires of her indignation being fanned by remembering her grievances. "She's been sneaking in here behind my back, without being asked, and she's been stealing files from my desk, completing them and then sneaking them back in when I'm not looking!"

Harriet looked blank for a moment, "What sort of files, ma'am?"

"Oh... the make-work LSO files the Admiral landed me with as my part of the rewards for rescuing that CIA FUBAR!"

Harriet sat for a long moment in silence, and then fighting down her amusement, she said, choosing her words carefully, "Let me see if I've got this straight, ma'am: You're pissed at the Commander, because he chewed you a new one because _you_ offered _him_ unsolicited help?"

"Yes," Mac suddenly had an uneasy understanding of where her blonde friend was taking this.

"And you're pissed at Lieutenant Rabb, because _she's_ giving _you_ unsolicited help?"

"Yes," Mac admitted, "and I know where you're going with this..." but was stopped by Harriet's upraised hand.

"You... uh... don't see the incongruity of your feelings here, ma'am? The inconsistency, not to mention perhaps a little hypocrisy?"

"Yeah," Mac said bitterly, "That's exactly where I thought you were taking it! Dammit Harriet Sims, you've been spending far too much time around attorneys!"

"I can't help that, Mac," Harriet said, unusually for her, breaking protocol during duty hours, "I happen to be married to a very smart one!"

"Yeah, and he happens to be married to a pretty smart wife!" Mac replied.

"Well if you'll accept some unsolicited advice from a pretty smart wife, it seems to me that the Commander was on his way here earlier to apologise to you, which is why he had two cups of coffee in his hand. And you... well... you were angry with him, and weren't shy of letting him – and the whole bull pen – see that. It might go some way to restoring good order and discipline if you were to meet him half-way?"

"Damn you, Harriet Sims. I hate it, really hate it when you're right!"

"I live to serve!" Harriet quipped, and both women broke into giggles, but as their laughter died, Harriet pulled a Kleenex out of her pocket and dabbed her eyes, "So... are you going to walk over there and make nice?" she demanded remorselessly.

Mac eyed her with exasperation, "You're not going to let this drop, are you?"

"Nope, not a chance!" Harriet admitted cheerfully.

Mac sighed and pushed herself to her feet, her motivation now very different from what it had been a short while ago, before Harriet had appeared with the coffee.

Mac made her way around the bull pen and stopped at Harm's open office door, waiting until he had finished his phone call, rather than interrupt him. She hated that she had to eat umble pie, and didn't want to make it any harder on herself by any unnecessary additional ruffling of Harm's already ruffled feathers.

To her surprise, he looked up even as he was listening to the other person on the end of the 'phone, and waved Mac to a seat, as if there had never been a cross word between them. Mac duly sat and although not intentionally eavesdropping she could hear every word of his reply.

"Thanks Catherine, I know it's not your usual territory, but I really don't see any need for this delay. It was a line of duty shooting, and I know her husband wants to lay her to rest. So..." he broke off and listened again.

"Yes, it is important to me, and more to the point, it's important to my wife. So, thanks again for your help. Yes, we could probably manage that! I'll give you a call once I've spoken to Jen. Thanks once again! Goodbye."

Harm put the phone down and looked across at Mac... "Catherine Gale," he said succinctly, "The CIA are dragging their heels over releasing Gloria's body for burial, and Jen got upset when she heard, so, with Webb out of action, I thought I'd try Catherine, see if she can't get them to expedite the process..."

"Catherine Gale?" Mac's brow furrowed. "Oh yes, blonde, quite pretty, CIA attorney, right?"

"Yeah, that's her... but you didn't come to talk about mutual acquaintances, did you Mac?"

"No, I didn't..." Mac looked slightly shamefaced and dropped her eyes for a moment to her hands as they in her lap, "I... uh... I've just been reamed out – in the nicest possible way – by Harriet Sims for being a bitch to you earlier, and..."

"Well I gave you plenty of reason," Harm interrupted her, "But I _was_ on my way to apologise for that..."

"Yeah, well... Harriet sort of figured that out and told me..."

"So... friends again?" Harm asked.

"If you want," Mac agreed.

"Yeah, I want."

"Good. Because we need to talk about a plea bargain in the James' case!"

"You just don't give up, do you?" Harm asked with a smile.

"Nope can't afford to, not with you on the other side of the aisle!"

"I'll take that as a compliment, if I may. But can we table the discussion until tomorrow. Right now, I feel an irresistible need to get home to my wife!"

"Sure, straight after staff call?"

"Sounds good to me!" Harm agreed as he stood, gathering his cover and brief case as he did.

Mac followed his example and stood back giving him room to move around his office, but she noticed that he hadn't packed any of the files from his in-tray. "No homework tonight?" she queried.

"Nope... this evening I intend to devote myself solely to Jen! Now, Colonel, if you please?"

Mac smiled and let him usher her out of the office, this was more like the Harmon Rabb she knew!


	65. Revelations

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 65  
>Revelations<strong>

Harm mulled over the day's events as he drove home, he had been unwontedly snappy recently, too much so, and he had nearly, very nearly, set back his healing relationship with Mac. Set it back a long, long way. But it was only because he was tired, tomorrow was Friday and then he had the weekend to look forward to, when he could kick back and relax and get the rest he needed. He didn't need to talk with anyone, let alone some damn shrink!

Loren sat silently in the passenger seat, she felt that he was, at best, only half aware of her presence, and although she had felt concern that he should be driving with level of abstraction, she was reassured by his customary skill at handling the large vehicle and the awareness he had of his surroundings and the movement of other traffic on the road.

She had been quite surprised when Harm had knocked on her office door, his brief-case and cover in hand, "I'm securing a mite early today Loren – in fact in about five minutes. Can you be ready to go by then?"

Loren hesitated for a second as she fought to get her mental bearings, "Uh... sure. Just let me pack these files..."

"Not taking anything home with me tonight Loren. I'm taking a night off - in fact I'm going to be taking the whole weekend off from useless paper-shuffling, and I plan to spend the whole evening and the whole weekend unwinding with Jen." He grinned a little self-consciously, "It's been brought to my attention that I've been a little jumpy recently."

His wry grin lent Loren the courage to grin back and say "Gee, ya think?"

"I do." He paused, "Loren, I don't want to give offence, but seeing as how we're not working tonight, would you mind giving me and Jen some space?"

"Of course not! " Loren declared with a smile, "It will give me a chance to catch up on a couple of chores, and I really need to answer David's letter!"

"You haven't done that yet?" Harm asked in mild disapproval.

"Not with pen and ink, no," Loren confessed. "I have e-mailed him though, and told him I'd received it, and I did promise to write him back. So once I've put Sasha down for the night, I'll see if I can still remember how to write proper longhand!"

Harm grinned again as he stood back to allow her to leave her office, "I'm told it's a skill like riding a bicycle, it's not something you forget!"

"No? But maybe it's something my wrist has forgotten to do without getting tired!" she threw back over her shoulder as he allowed her to precede him across the bull pen.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harriet Sims watched them go, a slight frown creasing her forehead. "Something bothering you, Harriet?" Mac asked her as she paused near the blonde officer's desk.

"Just a little concerned about what some idle tongues are... uh... could say about the Commander and Loren..."

"What have you heard, Harriet?" Mac demanded sharply.

"Oh... just a comment or two that the Commander seems to be very close with the Lieutenant, and a little speculation that now his wife is pregnant he's looking elsewhere..." Harriet said, her tone leaving no room for doubt that she was disgusted by the rumours she'd heard.

"Who?" Mac demanded flatly.

"A couple of seamen, they were sniggering over it, like it was a dirty joke."

"Names, Harriet – now!"

Harriet sighed, "I've already read them the riot act, Mac... I really don't see..."

"Names!" Mac repeated implacably.

"Truscoe and Carter," Harriet finally conceded.

"Right! Pass the word for those two gentlemen to report to me, in my office, ASAP!"

"Aye, aye, ma'am," Harriet said unhappily. The two seamen involved were very young, and their gossip had been of an admiring tone rather than condemnatory, "Ma'am I have already detailed them for extra military duties for time-wasting, for two weeks, rather than preferring formal charges of showing disrespect to a commissioned officer."

"Noted, Lieutenant," Mac acknowledged, "But pretty irrelevant. Get them to my office, now!"

The two errant seamen exchanged apprehensive glances as they waited outside Mac's office for the summons to enter. Mac kept them waiting just long enough for them to become thoroughly uncomfortable before snapping, "Get in here!"

Carter and Truscoe almost fell over themselves as they whisked into the office and out of an instinct for self-preservation froze into the position of attention in front of her desk.

"Do you two know why you are here?" Mac asked in an icy voice.

"No, ma'am!" the pair chorused

"Very well, I shall explain what the situation is and what you could well be facing. Firstly I am here not just as a Lieutenant Colonel and an Attorney, but also in my role as Chief of Staff to the Judge Advocate General to the United States Navy. You are here because you have seen fit to indulge in gossip focussing on the domestic arrangements of one of your superior commissioned officers. That sort of behaviour is not tolerated. Fortunately for you, your conversation was overheard by a junior officer, who has limited powers of punishment over you, although I understand that the next fourteen days are going to be exceedingly long by the time you have finished your allocation of EMD each evening! I understand the Lieutenant Sims gave you the choice of accepting her punishment or of facing formal disciplinary charges!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Seamen Truscoe replied.

"Perhaps the leniency of Lieutenant Sims' award has misled you as to the gravity of your offence. So that you may be disabused of that opinion, let me read to you exactly what the UCMJ has to say about showing disrespect to a superior commissioned officer," Mac opened the heavy bound book that lay on her blotter and turned to a bookmarked page.

"Article eighty-nine of the Uniform Code of Military Justice lays down that 'Any person subject to this chapter who behaves with disrespect toward his superior commissioned officer shall be punished as a court-martial may direct.'" she read aloud and then continued, "For the charge to be substantiated the accused's behaviour must meet certain standards. In military law these are known as elements contributing to the preferring of the charge. In the case of this charge those elements are:" Mac started reading aloud again, "'That the accused did or omitted certain acts or used certain language to or concerning a certain commissioned officer; that such behaviour or language was directed toward that officer; that the officer toward whom the acts, omissions, or words were directed was the superior commissioned officer of the accused; that the accused then knew that the commissioned officer toward whom the acts, omissions, or words were directed was the accused's superior commissioned officer; and that, under the circumstances, the behaviour or language was disrespectful to that commissioned officer.' Do you understand all that?

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Then also understand this, if you are convicted of this charge you could be sentenced to a Bad Conduct Discharge, lose all pay and benefits and be confined for one year. But more than that, you are both very young men, and a General Court Martial finding of guilty is a Federal conviction and would have to be disclosed on almost any application you might make for employment in the future! And that could make life very difficult for you indeed!"

Mac eyed them grimly. "Hardly a fair exchange for a couple of sniggers over someone else's perceived behaviour, I'd say!"

"No ma'am!"

"Good. So the next time you feel like passing on or formulating scuttlebutt about any of the officers with whom you might come into contact, remember what I have just told you." Mac paused again, "You might also want to pass on my words of warning and advice to your buddies if they should start to gossip on similar matters!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Good! Now get out!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm relaxed against the back rest of his seat and turned the key in the ignition, killing the engine. At last he was home, and the James, his disagreement with Mac and all the rest of the minor irritants of the day could go hang. He meant what he had said to Mac, he was going to devote all this evening to Jen, and see if he couldn't bring her normal sunny smile back to her face; he missed seeing that dimple on her cheek when she did smile.

Giving his head a slight shake, he turned to Loren, "I'm sorry, I wasn't much company on the way home..."

"It's OK, Harm, I understand. You have a lot happening right now..."

"You sure said a lot there, Loren!" Harm attempted a grin that was at best only half-power. "But, I'll see you at the normal time tomorrow morning, OK?"

"Yeah, sure!" Loren smiled as she opened the car door.

"But remember... that doesn't preclude emergencies. If you need us, just holler!" Harm added.

"I think I'll survive, unless Sasha decides to murder me," Loren grinned, "Go on, you go ahead and get ready whatever it is you've got planned. I see Jen isn't home yet!" Loren alluded to the absence of Jen's old Escort.

With a final grin over her shoulder, Loren disappeared around the end of the house and while Harm was fitting his key to the front door lock he heard the side gate open and close.

Loren kept the grin on her face until she was out of Harm's sight and then replaced it with a worried frown. She had thought this morning that Harm was looking a bit ragged around the edges, and the twin blow-ups with Colonel MacKenzie hadn't escaped her notice. Something was bothering Harm, and whatever it was, it was making him act unlike himself. Her first inclination was to discuss an intervention with Jen, but a little more thought brought her to the conclusion that whatever it was it was maybe best left for Harm and Jen to sort out between them. At least for the present time.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm lost no time in showering and changing into an old squadron sweatshirt and a pair of faded jeans. He stuffed his feet into an old pair of loafers and headed for the kitchen and the jar of instant coffee. He stood, sipping his coffee, as he studied the contents of the fridge and pantry, until just as he drained his mug, his decision was made. Rinsing the mug, he rolled his sleeves to his elbows and making sure there were a couple of bottles of sparkling cider in the fridge, he gathered the ingredients for what he hoped would be a simple but noteworthy dinner.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen raised her eyebrows in mild surprise as she turned her car onto the drive-way and saw Harm's Lexus already parked to one side. It was unusual for Ham to get home before her, but then again, he quite often had to work back an extra half hour or hour, and even on odd occasions even late into the evening. But she was glad that wasn't the case tonight. As much as he might protest that he was fine, she knew he wasn't. He wasn't sleeping properly, and there had been a couple of occasions during the night that Jen had woken up to an empty, cold, spot in the bed next to her. Angela's attempt at calming her worries, "He's just being a typical man," had not only failed to put her mind at rest, but had brought her to the verge of snapping at her friend.

Sighing, she slid out from behind the wheel and stood arching her back for a few seconds as she reached behind her with both hands and pressed them into her back, one fist either side of her spine, attempting to ease her more or less constant back-ache as she considered the likely course of the evening; a thrown together dinner, possibly with Loren and Sasha in attendance, a hasty clean up and then three or more hours in the den while the three of them ploughed through yet more of the LSO overspill. OK, she was grateful that the work stopped her and Harm from brooding, and may even have been of help to Loren, but she could really do with taking a long, hot soak in a scented bath – after all, the bath had been one of the selling points of the house, well, at least as far as she was concerned – then all she would want to do was to curl up in bed with Harm, and hopefully the two of them would finally get a good night's sleep!

Still dreaming of her preferred options, she had a soft smile on her face as turned the door handle to let herself into the house.

Harm had been waiting for the sound of Jen's car and the instant she had pulled up in the driveway, he had lit the the candles on the dining room table, and then unseen by her, he peered around the end of the drapes and waited until she had passed the window before drawing the drapes and plunging the room into darkness, lit only by the warm glow of the two candles on the table.

Jen stepped into the hall and immediately her nostrils were assailed by a melange of warm, spicy, yet comforting smells emanating from the kitchen. Stepping through into that room she was surprised to see it all neatly secured, not so much as a teaspoon out of place, except for a plate next to the microwave that looked as if it held four or more tortilla warps. Wrinkling her forehead in a puzzled frown as she noticed that the oven was on and that the spicy aroma was coming from there, she called softly, "Harm?"

"Right here, sweetheart." he answered from the doorway leading into the seldom-used dining room.

Turning, Jen's eyes opened in surprise. Between putting the dinner in the over and Jen's return home, Harm had taken the opportunity to wash up and change again. Now he wore a French blue shirt, tucked into a neatly belted pair of grey slacks and a newer pair of moccasin type loafers on his feet.

"Have... have I missed something?" Jen asked in bewilderment, "I mean, is there something about today that I should have remembered?"

"Nothing at all!" Harm replied

"Then what..." Jen got no further as Harm closed the distance between them, and with a gentle finger tilted her face up to meet his as he dropped a gentle kiss on her lips.

When he released her, Jen put two fingers to her lips and managed a surprised, "Oh!"

"Lost for words, Jennifer Rabb?" Harm smiled.

"A... a little... I guess..." Jen admitted, "I don't get it... I mean, don't get me wrong, whatever you've got cooking smells fantastic, and you look even better, but..."

"If you're trying to find a way of asking me what's it all in aid of..." Harm reached out and took both her hands in his as he smiled down into her eyes, "I decided that we needed some quality time together. It's been in pretty short supply for a while now!"

"But Loren... work... LSO files..." Jen stuttered.

"Not tonight. I decided that I needed, badly needed, some alone time with you. And I think Loren was relieved, to be quite honest, she needs to write Tuna back for the letter she got a couple of days ago, and said that was what she wanted to do tonight anyway. And I... I felt that it was long gone time that I shut the rest of the world out and spent some time devoting myself to my very beautiful, pregnant wife, whom I love so very, very much!"

"Oh..." Jen's mouth opened in a gasp of astonishment and her eyes opened to their widest at the same time as they flooded with tears.

"Hey, hey, no crying now!" Harm rebuked her gently, "You don't have time to indulge in tears. By my reckoning you've got twenty-seven minutes to shower and change before the dinner is cooked! So... scoot!" He reinforced his words by transferring his grasp to her shoulders, turning her to face the kitchen door and then giving her a gentle swat on her butt.

Jen gave a muted squeak, and rubbing at the pretended soreness, she glanced back over her shoulder, "You are so going to pay for that, mister!"

"Yeah, but later... after dinner," he grinned.

A freshly showered Jen reappeared in just under twenty-five minutes, her hair unbound and flowing in a glorious rich brunette cascade down her back. She had dressed with some care, choosing to present herself in a fashion that would compliment and complement Harm's appearance. She wore a rich russet maternity smock, ruched just below her breasts and falling loosely to her mid-thigh over a pair of black maternity slacks and a pair of soft loafers on her sore feet.

Harm intercepted her in the lounge and after softly whistling his appreciation of her style, he closed the gap between them and kissed her thoroughly, but gently, before releasing her and handing her one of their as yet unused Waterford Crystal champagne flutes filled with sparkling cider.

"To us," he said simply.

"To us, all three of us," Jen replied, lightly touching her glass to his.

"Now... if Madame is ready, let us eat!" Harm declared, and then as Jen turned automatically towards the kitchen he stopped her with a gentle, "Nuh-huh! This way if Madame pleases?" and offering her his arm, he walked her into the dining room.

Once again Jen gasped in astonishment. With the drapes drawn and only the two candles for illumination the far reaches of the room were shrouded in mysterious gloom, the walls hidden from sight. But the table itself was a blaze of reflected light. It was draped with the Irish linen tablecloth that had been a belated wedding present from Bud and Harriet and was set with their best bone china and silver flatware while more Waterford crystal glasses stood next to each place setting.

"Harm...?" Jen queried.

"Hush, sweetheart," he murmured as he raised her hand to his lips and gently kissed it, before he drew back her chair for her, "just relax and enjoy the ride!"

Harm left Jen alone in the candlelight for no more than two minutes before he returned with a gently steaming tureen which lent its aroma to the dining room as he served the contents into two soup plates one for each of them.

Jen looked at her plate rather dubiously, "And this is?" she queried.

"Red lentil curry soup," Harm smiled as he dipped his spoon into the contents of his own plate, "Go on, try it, it shouldn't be too spicy!" he added encouragingly.

Jen dipped her spoon into the soup and raised it to her mouth. Cautiously she tried the soup and was relieved to find as Harm had said that it wasn't too spicy, but had a comforting warmth, both in the temperature and spice senses of the word through which the flavour of the lentils was easily detectable.

Reassured, she plied her spoon with more enthusiasm and to her surprise she finished her soup at just about the same time as Harm.

"More?" Harm twinkled across the table at her.

"Uh... that depends... is there more to come?"

"Oh, yes. The full Monte tonight!" Harm grinned.

"In that case, no! It was delicious, but I guess I'd best leave some room for what's to come!" Jen quipped.

"Good call!" Harm grinned as he stood and collected the dirty soup plates prior to retreating to the kitchen. He returned again in short order with a large tray holding a serving platter heaped with delicately scented yellow saffron rice and small dishes of yoghurt with cucumber, pickles, chutneys and marinated onion strips, the tortilla wraps folded into triangles, and the main course itself, a creamy egg and yoghurt curry.

Jen shook her head in bemusement at the plethora of dishes that lay before her, "How long were you planning this?" she asked.

"Oh... about forty minutes," Harm answered. "It wasn't until I got home and checked out what we had in the pantry that I came up with a menu!"

"You did all this today?" Jen asked indicating the table with a sweep of her hand.

"Uh, yeah, why?"

Jen shook her head again, "What time did you secure from work?" she challenged him.

"Um... just short of sixteen hundred," he confessed.

"Harm! The admiral is going to be furious!"

"Let him!" Harm smiled, "It will be worth it!"

Once again Jen felt her eyes tear at Harm's repetition of their watch-word, and covered her momentary confusion by taking another forkful of her dinner.

Neither Harm nor Jen were in a rush to finish and so they dawdled over their meal, talking softly and exchanging news of their respective days until Jen put down her fork with a sigh and said, "This is so, so good... but I can't eat another morsel... but how the hell did you manage to whip up such a feast with only what we had in the house, and in such a short time?"

"Well, the menu more or less suggested itself. I knew I didn't have much time, and none of the food we've had so far this evening is particularly difficult or time-consuming... so I just did what I could with what I had and the time available!" And... I am a pretty good jack-leg cook!" he finished with a grin.

"That you are!" Jen agreed enthusiastically but then almost immediately knitted her brows, "But what's all this 'so far', please don't tell me there's more to come!"

"Just the dessert!" Harm protested, "But we don't have to have that immediately. Why don't I get you settled in the lounge and make you a cup of tea so you can digest all this," he too made a gesture indicating the table with its much reduced burden of food, "While I police in here and stack the dishes in the dishwasher, and then I'll bring fresh tea and the dessert into you. It is only a very light dessert, I promise!"

"Why don't I give you a hand, then it'll all be done so much quicker?" Jen suggested.

"No!" Harm replied firmly, "Tonight is not about that. Tonight is about me spoiling you a little bit!"

"Oh well... if tonight is all about you spoiling me, then I hear and obey, O master!" Jen gurgled with laughter as she allowed Harm to lead her into the lounge.

It was the work of less than a minute for Harm to re-boil the preheated kettle and return to Jen with a mug of rose hip and raspberry tea, and only a further ten minutes before he placed on the occasional table in front of the couch, a tray with two fresh mugs of tea, a large plate of triangular pastries and a bowl of yoghurt and then joined her on the couch.

"And these are?" Jen asked holding up one of the filo pastry triangles for closer inspection.

"Apple samosas," Harm answered, "with honey, a sprinkling of spice and a handful of raisins mixed in with the apples. The yoghurt is for dipping them in!"

It wasn't too much longer before Harm looked at the sole remaining samosa on the plate and said musingly, "There were twelve samosas on that plate when I brought them in... I've had four... I wonder where the rest went?"

Jen tried in vain to suck and lick the honey off her fingers while at the same time contriving to look innocent. Harm grinned, cocked his head at her, "Nope... that whole innocent thing just ain't cutting it tonight!"

"Damn! Busted!" Jen complained mournfully.

"You bet!" Harm grinned. "Here sit still before you get honey everywhere!" He levered himself up off the couch and made another trek into the kitchen returning with a gently steaming wash-cloth and through a barrage of Jen's protests and giggles he lovingly dabbed her honey-smeared lips, cheeks and chin clean before he turned his attention to her still sticky fingers and hands.

"Honestly, Harm, you just made me feel about four years old!"

"Only because I love you!" he answered, just before he leaned in and kissed her, deepening the kiss as she responded.

"Oh wow! Hold that thought Mister!" Jen gasped when they finally broke for air.

"Oh... I will, I will!" Harm rasped. "But first... I want to tell you about a funny thing that happened to me at the CP this morning while I was signing in."

"Go on," Jen encouraged him.

"Sergeant Andrews, the one they call Julie?"

"Yeah, I remember her," Jen nodded.

"Yeah, well she was on the desk this morning and as I was signing-in, she asked how you were, how you were coping with the baby, and did we know whether it was a boy or a girl, and had we thought of any names yet. And it suddenly struck me, maybe because you're so confident that it will be a girl, that we actually haven't discussed names at all yet!"

Jen looked thunderstruck for an instant, and then broke out into a peal of laughter, "Oh crap! No, we haven't, have we? And that's probably because I decided a long time ago..."

"Oh... you've decided have you? I don't get a vote on this?" he teased her.

Jen blushed fire-truck red, "Of course you get a vote! It's just... that... that... Oh... I don't know. I thought of the names and it never occurred to me that you'd think any different!"

Harm looked injured, "You know, if I said something like that to you, you'd read me the riot act and banish me to the spare room for a year and a day!"

"Oh... sweetheart, I am so sorry!" a conscience-stricken Jen gasped, "I just never... and anyway, it wouldn't be for a year and a day. About a week is as much as I could stand... which reminds me we haven't..."

"I know, my love, I know... that's why I'm holding onto that thought from earlier... but tell me about the names you liked?"

"Well first off, I thought of Harmony, for you, but then I thought no it's a little too obvious," she added swiftly as she saw Harm's grimace of distaste, "So... I thought a little subtlety was called for and decided that I liked Hermione – it's just distinguished enough to be slightly unusual, and not too far out that she'll be teased over it.

"I don't know..." Harm disagreed slowly. "I agree it's an old and distinguished name... but it might be seen as a bit faddy... isn't that the name of the heroine in the English series of kids' books about witches and wizards? It'll be popular for a couple of years, and then further down the pike there'll be pointing fingers..."

"Oh... maybe... but we could call her by her middle name?" Jen suggested.

"And that would be?" Harm asked, unable to keep an edge of suspicion entirely out of his voice.

"That would be Patricia, for your mom," Jen said simply.

"Oh..." Harm's breath caught in his throat. "How can I not like that name! And mom will be thrilled! But," he added more severely, "I still don't like Hermione, so... how about Alison Patricia, for both our moms?"

For the third time that evening Jen's eyes flooded. "Really?" she gasped.

"Really!" Harm agreed with a loving smile.

"Thank you! Oh, thank you!" Jen squeaked as she threw her arms around his neck and locked her lips on his.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Once again Jen woke to an awareness of a cold, empty spot beside her where Harm's warm body should have been. Tonight of all nights she had hoped he would sleep through, she had done her best to tire him earlier, their love-making – the first occasion since she had been whisked away by Webb – had been long lasting, tender, sweet and passionate, and as they collapsed temporarily spent onto the bed she had had the immense satisfaction of hearing his breathing slow and deepen as he drifted off into sleep.

With a grunt of annoyance she rolled over and switched on her bedside lamp, squinting and scowling at the sudden brightness until she was able to read the figures on the alarm clock's LED; just eleven minutes past three! Enough was enough, Jen decided and reaching across to the chair she snagged the old T-shirt – one of Harm's - that she was currently using as sleep wear and swinging her legs out of bed she shoved her feet into her Garfield slippers. Shivering against the pre-dawn chill, she snagged her terry-cloth bath robe from the back of the bedroom door, then hair unbrushed and yawning mightily she went in search of her errant spouse.

She found him in the den, sitting with his back to the door in front of his lifeless computer screen, leaning against the back rest of his swivel chair with his clenched white-knuckle tight on the arm rests. Jen stopped in the doorway, "Harm?" she said uncertainly

She heard him swallow twice before he answered, and when he did his voice was roughened, "Go back to bed, Jen. There's no need for two of us to be awake!"

Rather than doing as he'd said, Jen shook her head, "I don't think so!" she said softly but firmly as she came further into the room, angling to one side so that she could see his face.

"Don't!" Harm snapped, turning his chair so that he still faced away from her, "Please do as I say, and go back to sleep!" her added in a more conciliatory tone.

"Not going to happen Harm!" Jen said determinedly as she sat at her own work station and swivelled her chair around to face him.

Harm remained silent.

"Harm, turn around and look at me!" Jen commanded.

For a long moment Harm did nothing then slowly, so slowly he swivelled around to face Jen who gasped as she saw his face was wet with tears. "Oh Harm, my darling, what's wrong?" she cried in a pain-filled voice as she slipped off the chair and on to her knees beside him, gripping one his hands in both of hers and staring up into his face.

"I love you so much Jen, I can't stand the thought of losing you..." he whispered.

"You're not going to lose me Harm! Never!" Jen cried.

"But that's the dream I've been having... every night since we got home... I dream that I've lost you..."

"Oh Harm..." Jen didn't know what else to say for a second, but then rallied, "How... I mean, what is this dream...?"

Harm shook his head, "I can't tell you..."

Harm you've got to... whatever it is it's eating you up! It's got well past the stage when you telling me you're fine cuts it. It just don't anymore! So… give!"

"Jen... I just can't," Harm whispered, "I'm supposed to be the strong one here, I've got to be here for you... You shouldn't have to deal with this... see me like this..."

"You stupid, stupid man!" Jen said lovingly as she hauled herself to her feet and squirming around settled on his knees her arms around his neck as she pressed his head into her breast, "We're here to be strong for each other. Partners, remember? In sickness and in health, for better or for worse... And you're heartsick now, so tell me what's got you so wound up?"

"I don't know if it's the dream or the thought you being disgusted with me for being so weak..."

"You? Weak? Harmon Rabb that is probably the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard you say! As for me being disgusted with you? Well, that ain't gonna happen either! So it's got to be the dream!"

Harm was silent for long minutes before he began to speak, "It's a summer afternoon, I'm in Dress Whites, and it's a bright, beautiful sunny summer afternoon. But I'm cold. There are lots of other people there, but except for the Admiral, I don't see any of them clearly. I know my mom is there, because I can hear her crying. I can see a casket and I hear the volleys, and then sometimes, the Admiral is handing me a folded flag with the thanks of a grateful nation and I realise that the flag is yours and the casket is yours... Sometimes though, it's you that hands me the flag, but you're still dead, and you look at me, accusing me, and I can hear your dead voice, telling me that I was too damn late... again... And sometimes there are three caskets, yours, Loren's and Sasha's and I can hear all your voices, together asking 'Why, why, why, why...?' and I don't have an answer..."


	66. Depositions

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 66  
>Depositions<strong>

Jen had deliberately left the drapes not quite fully closed and now she propped herself up on her elbow so that she could more easily see Harm's face. She had persuaded him back to bed, where despite his protests that he was OK, he'd fallen back to sleep almost the second his head hit the pillow. It may have only been her imagination, although she prayed it wasn't, but even in the short time since he'd confessed his nightmares, the stress and fatigue induced lines on his face seemed to have started to fade.

Those nightmares! The product of Harm's overwrought imagination they might be, but to have her own husband tell her that he was dreaming of her funeral, and even of her as a zombie-like creature, was just weird and just so wrong on so many different levels. Jen shivered, and although she knew it wasn't the cold, she dropped back down onto her own pillows and drew the comforter up around her shoulders, and then changed her mind and squirmed closer to Harm, seeking the comfort of his nearness. She gently laid her head on his shoulder, and draped her arm across his chest. Harm murmured something that seemed to indicate contentment and Jen craned her neck so that her voice was directed straight into his ear and whispered, "Hush, sleep my love, sleep..." before she too closed her eyes.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The demands of the alarm clock dragged them both from their sleep a scant two hours later and slowly, reluctantly and grumbling they fumbled their way through the morning routine of showering and dressing before they both almost stumbled down the stairs where Jen put the kettle on to boil, while Harm sliced two bagels in half and slotted them into the toaster.

Biting her tongue to prevent her from exclaiming at the unfairness of it all Jen dumped a tea-bag of English Breakfast tea into her mug and made Harm his mug of instant coffee, closing her eyes as the aroma hit her nostrils and desperately wishing that she could have a mug of even instant coffee too. She had got to the stage now where normally she could quite happily resist the enticing smell of fresh brewed coffee, she was surrounded by it every day in the break room at work, but today... today, even the ersatz aroma of freeze-dried instant coffee was torture.

Shaking her head at her own thoughts, Jen turned and deposited the two mugs on the breakfast bar and snagged one of the bar stools – brought with then from Harm's old apartment, and with a wry grin took her seat just as Harm put a plate with a split and toasted bagel in front of her. He cocked an eyebrow and Jen hesitated for a second before making up her mind, "Honey, please," she decided and then when she saw the expression on Harm's face she said, "What? I need the extra energy today after being kept awake half the night, and it's all natural goodness, you should be glad I chose it!" And then as Harm's face became shuttered, she dropped her bantering tine, and asked, "What is it sweetheart? What's wrong?"

"Oh, Jen," Harm groaned, "I'm sorry, I should have sent you straight back to bed, instead of dumping all that on you..."

"Now you just shut right up and listen to me!" Jen said, her eyes flashing, "Firstly, when I said you kept me awake half the night, I wasn't talking about that little interlude in the den! I was talking about before we went to sleep the first time, when we..."

"Oh! OK! Hold it – I get the picture!" Harm interrupted her, casting a fearful glance over his shoulder as if he expected to see Loren to be standing behind him, and uncomfortably aware that his ears were burning.

Jen couldn't help herself, she looked at him incredulously and then burst into a giggle-fit, "Harmon Rabb... you're such... a prude!"

"I am not!" he denied indignantly, "it's just that some things are best left in the bedroom!"

"Or the bathroom... or the lounge... or even the kitchen..." Jen said in a low throaty voice that connected directly to the nerves in Harm's spine, and a shudder ran up his back, as Jen slipped off the stool and swayed seductively around the end of the breakfast bar towards him.

"Jen... No... wait, we haven't... I mean, Loren could... Jen... we... not now... we..." he protested weakly.

"Shame on you Harmon Rabb for thinking such things!" Jen said reproachfully, "I'm a respectable married woman, and you shouldn't be having those sort of thoughts! As if I'd do that sort of thing in the kitchen - on a work day, when we're already in uniform!" Then her eyes twinkled, "But I'm not making any promises about my conduct for the weekend!"

"Jennifer Rabb!" Harm exclaimed as he realised he had just been set up and then shot down in flames, "You are so going to pay for that!"

"Oh, I do hope so!" Jen smiled and then stood on tiptoes to kiss him gently on the lips. "I'm off to work, now. Just in case you hadn't noticed, we're running just a little late this morning!" She gathered her cover and purse from the side-counter and with a definitely naughty smile over her shoulder headed for the front door, leaving a ruefully smiling Harm to swallow the last of his coffee and then rinse mugs and plates under the faucet.

As Jen had said they were running late, so the tap on the kitchen door announcing the arrival of Loren was not totally unexpected. She was fully dressed, purse and briefcase in hand and cover on her shining blonde hair. "Everything all right, Harm? I was getting a bit worried about the time."

"Everything's just peachy, Loren," Harm smiled as he dried his hands, "Yeah, I am just a little behind schedule. But I'm ready to go now, right now!" He too grabbed his cover and briefcase and after securing the back door, they crossed the kitchen and hall and out of the front door.

Loren took her seat in the Lexus as Harm, waiting to make sure her feet were safely inside the vehicle, closed the door and strolled around to the driver's side.

Settled behind the wheel, he turned and smiled at Loren, "All set? Well, here we go, another day, another dollar!"

Intrigued by Harm's overnight change of attitude, Loren took advantage of his concentration on the road to take several appraising glances at him. He still looked tired, but somehow less drawn, less morose, and she felt a little lift of hope that whatever had been bothering Harm for the last few days was on its way to being resolved.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Staff call wasn't long ended and Loren was reading herself in on the first of the three cases she'd been handed, an Operations Specialist Third Class charged with Dereliction of Duty by ignoring a tag-off on the search radar console on board the David E Bowen, a guided missile destroyer. He had powered up the radar injuring the two ETs working on it. Both had suffered radiation burns, and one of them had been thrown off the mounting as the dish turned and had fallen fifteen feet onto the guard rails surrounding the platform sustaining three fractured ribs and a fractured pelvis. The Petty Officer denied ever having seen the tag-off on the equipment and had switched on the radar as a part of his daily duties. Other Operation Specialists could neither confirm nor deny his story; tag-offs for maintenance were such a common-place, one claimed, that unless they were on your specific piece of equipment, they would be invisible.

Loren shook her head, she had been assigned the defence of this case, and in face of the CIC Duty Officer's insistence that the tag-off had been correctly placed and that if the Petty Officer had turned-to on time, instead of being nearly ten minutes adrift, he would have received the customary verbal warning in addition, things didn't look good for her client.

She was disturbed from thoughts by a knock on her door, and raising her head she gazed at he visitor with a sinking feeling in her stomach, "Good morning, ma'am, may I help you?"

"Good morning, Lieutenant. I hope you can. I'm Commander Saunders, I'm investigating a charge of sexual harassment against Commander Theodore Lindsey, and you're name has come to my attention as a potential witness. I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Of course ma'am," Loren closed her file and started to tidy her desk but was stopped by the older officer.

"I'd rather talk to you here, if that's all right, Lieutenant, the office space Lieutenant Sims found me is a bit... uh... cramped."

"Oh, yes, ma'am, in that case, please take a seat." Loren sat back and waited for the questions.

Barbara Saunders sat and looked at the blonde Lieutenant as if wondering where to begin. At length she seemed to come to a decision, and crossed her legs, supporting a legal pad on her thigh and placed a small battery operated voice recorder on the desk between them.

"I hope you don't mind, but I find useful to record how witnesses say something, just as much as what they say." She smiled at Loren and paused waiting for an answer.

"No, ma'am, that's fine..." Loren replied.

"Good! Why don't you start right at the beginning, and tell me when, where and how you and the Commander met?"

"That would be Christmas Eve, the year before last. We... the JAG HQ staff had just attended a midnight Christmas service."

Loren paused, marshalling her thoughts. She wasn't going to lie about her thoughts, words and deeds on that occasion, but she felt that she owed to herself to put the best possible spin on them.

"Mentally, I wasn't in the best of places at that time. Things weren't really going well for me either personally or professionally. There wasn't much I could do at that time about my personal life, but I recognised Commander Lindsey as the SecNav's legal advisor, and thought that maybe, if I could cultivate him I might be able to at least reap some professional benefit. You see, even after the sermon, I still wasn't in the most Christian frame of mind. I was feeling depressed, fed up, lonely and angry at just about the whole world, so after the church service, I introduced myself to Commander Lindsey… he was so... ordinary, so lacklustre, so totally unremarkable that I thought it would be easy to play him, get close to him, and use his closeness with the SecNav as a tool to get ahead in my career. I hadn't realised that he was such a manipulative son of a bitch." Loren took a second, allowing herself a wry smile as she gathered her thoughts.

"Anyway, a few days later, a week or so, it was just after the New Year, and I must admit, I thought had either forgotten me or had had second thoughts, he called me and suggested we meet for a drink after work at Benzingers'. I said OK, so we met, we talked – mostly about JAG and the people here. You have to understand ma'am, that at that time I wasn't very happy here. I had no friends here, and yes, that was mostly my fault. I had become target fixated and made the mistake of falling into the habit of thinking of the others not as people, but as obstacles on my path to greater things. Obstacles to be overcome."

"Greater things?" Barbara Saunders interrupted, not quite sure if the petite blonde the other side of the desk was being truthful or not. There was certainly a sense of bitter irony in her voice.

"Yeah... I was, at the time, set on becoming the first female JAG," Loren admitted with a blush.

"Could still happen," Barbara said matter of factly, "It will be a good few years yet before the Navy takes that step! But, I'm interrupting, please carry on.

"Yes, ma'am. Anyway we had a succession of meetings in Benzingers, maybe a dozen or so over the next couple of months. He asked how I was doing here at JAG., and he seemed really interested in me, my life and my work, he was, or he seemed to be such a change from the jerks I had met around DC, and he was easy to talk to and I vented my disappointment and anger to him. I guess that maybe I went over the top a bit, but honestly, I had no idea that he was taking note of what I complained about. He was just another officer, not in my chain of command, whom I could talk to and complain about life in general."

"And what was the substance of your complaints?"

"Oh... personal and professional disappointments... I found out on Christmas Eve for example that a boyfriend of whom I had high hopes was a serial cheater, and there was no-one else on the horizon. Professionally, I was the one who always seemed to get the scut-work, the unwinnable cases, and how certain officers could break all the rules in the book and come up smelling of roses, or with another shiny medal to pin on their chests, or get undeserved early promotions... then another officer, one I considered to be a complete waste of rations was tagged for a shipboard billet that I would have given my eye teeth for. Lindsey listened to all that I said, he was a sympathetic ear, and he assured me that he was bringing me to the SecNav's attention, and I admit… I led him on a bit. Then one evening when he took me home… I did the dumbest thing… instead of saying good night at the curbside as usual, I let him walk me up to my apartment door, where he suddenly made it very clear that the time for playing games was over. To put it bluntly, he told me that he expected repayment, in the bedroom, for the good word he'd supposedly put in for me. I told him there was no way that I would ever have sex with him. He said something in the order of that I wasn't in Kansas any more, and that this was a big boys' town and that I'd have to play by the big boys' rules, and did I understand that nobody did anything for anybody else; it was called quid pro quo, and it was time that I put out. We had a pretty heated argument in the hallway of my building and things got a bit awkward."

"Awkward in what sense?" Barbara asked.

I repeated that there was never any question of there being sex between us, he got aggressive, and I had to physically discourage his advances…"

"How did you manage that?"

"To put it bluntly ma'am, I kneed him in the groin," Loren replied with a flash of a fierce grin as she recalled just how good that had felt.

"And that was the last time you spoke to him?"

"No ma'am,. He called me once more, a couple of days later, to try, or so he said, to clear up my misunderstanding of what he had said that night, and he suggested we meet a further time… in order to settle things between us on a more amicable note. I said that there was no way that I would ever speak with him again, let alone meet with him anywhere outside work, and that if he ever called me again, I would instantly hang up on him and that my very next phone call would be to his wife. Since then I haven't seen him outside work, and on the rare occasions that we have been in one another's vicinity, I've made damn sure that there's always at least one other person present with us."

"But you never reported his assault, or his propositioning you?"

"No, ma'am."

"Why not?"

"Well… I was embarrassed for a start, for a couple of reasons. The proposition and the quid pro quo aspect make me look more than just a little foolish and naïve. And with hindsight, I'm not particularly proud of the way I acted in the beginning of the whole story. My behaviour doesn't exactly show me in the most favourable light."

"I see. Well Lieutenant, you've been remarkably frank, thank you!" Barbara stood gathered her legal pad and voice recorder, and with a faint smile and a nod to Loren she left the blonde lieutenant alone to wonder when the next shoe was going to fall.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm also had his head down as he worked as quickly as he could on three of the simpler enlisted will forms that were part of the LSO overspill that had landed on his desk, when he too was disturbed by a knock on his door-frame. Fighting down his initial desire to scowl and yell at whoever it was to go away, he plastered a smile on his face and looked up.

"Hi Mac, what can I do for you?"

"Are you fit to talk to, or is the savage beast still roaming free?" Mac asked with a teasing note on her voice.

"I suppose I asked for that," Harm acknowledged, "No, I'm actually talking to people today instead of at them, so come on ahead, make hay while the sun shines!"

Mac took a quick glance to make sure the blinds were open before she closed the door behind her and slid into one the visitors' chairs.

"Something important and or private Mac?" Harm asked mildly.

"Master Gunnery Sergeant James," Mac said and waited for Harm's sigh of resignation; she did not have to wait long.

"What's he done now?" Harm demanded.

"Oh! No, nothing like that. I've just come from interviewing him at the secure room at the Navy Yard infirmary, he's recovering well, he can now speak again and I think we may be looking at a guilty plea."

"A plea bargain, Mac? You surprise me, I figured you were going to fight this one to the bitter end."

"Oh, I was going to, make no mistake about that flyboy! And I would have whipped your Navy Blue ass! But with what happened to his daughter..." Mac lost the challenging note in her voice and the combative gleam in her eye.

Harm shuddered, "Don't remind me... when I think of anything like that happening to Jen or Loren..."

Mac had a sudden flash of insight, "Is that what's been the matter, Harm?" she asked gently.

"Umm... yeah... well... kind of," an embarrassed Harm replied uncomfortably.

"And it's been keeping you awake, hasn't it? Although..." she scrutinised Harm carefully, "you still look tired, but not as tightly wound... Did you speak to someone?"

"Yeah... I kinda took your advice, I told Jen what was going on... and you were right, I shouldn't have doubted her, she's stronger than I gave her credit for!"

"See, once again the Marines had to tell the Navy how it's done!" Mac grinned, but aware of a burden being eased.

"Yeah, right... keep it up Marine! It might just give me the incentive to properly wipe the court room floor with your green butt next time we butt heads!"

"Which brings us back to the business at hand!" Mac said triumphantly. "Yeah a plea bargain. Drop the treason and aiding the enemy, and James'll plead guilty to the unlawful misappropriation and disposing of government property. That way we save the expense and embarrassment of the trial."

"I'll drop the treason, but the aiding the enemy stays on the charge sheet Mac."

"It's a stretch Harm... yes, he sold the weapons and ammunition, but he did not sell them directly to the enemy,"

"But he could reasonably be expected to know that they ended up in enemy hands, and that satisfied the requirement of Article One Zero Four."

"You're still reaching Harm... with the Russian connection and Kozlovsky's previous record, he could also reasonably believe that the weapons were headed for Chechnya..."

"And the Chechnyans are mostly Moslem, and it's not all that far from Chechnya to Afghanistan," Harm pointed out quietly. "Mac, I've already taken the death penalty of the table, Article One Zero Eight mandates ten years for selling a firearm. He sold crates of them. Face it, he's going to spend the rest of his days behind bars, especially if the judge orders ten years per firearm, the sentences to run consecutively."

"That's why we want a plea bargain, Harm. He pleads guilty to selling in return for thirty years. He'll be an old man when he gets out, if he survives that long. What's the point of adding any more charges and lengthening his sentences?"

"As a deterrent to others?" Harm suggested.

"So... you're discounting the element of coercion, completely?" Mac challenged, changing tactics.

"Not discounting it Mac, but not laying it on the scales either, that's your job, and is probably best argued in mitigation of sentence, not as grounds for a plea bargain."

"So... it's a definite no?" Mac said as she stood.

"Let me think about it over the weekend and ask me about it on Monday?" Harm suggested.

Mac thought she saw that Harm was weakening and for a moment toyed with the idea of pressing him here and now, but then realised that if she pushed too hard all she as likely to achieve was to bring Harm's stubborn streak to the fore. "All right, I'll come back to you after staff call on Monday! OK?"

"OK, and in the meantime, you got any lunch plans?"

"Just me and a Beltway Maxi-Meal!" Mac laughed.

Harm shuddered, "I'll skip watching you inhale that! I'll ask Loren instead!"

Mac's grin faded slightly, "Be careful there, Harm," she warned him. "There's already been a couple of cases of loose tongues!"

"Who?" he demanded bleakly.

Mac shook her head, "I've dealt with it, Harm. Just the way I said I would, and just the way you agreed to let me!"

Harm subsided back into his seat, "Yeah, I did, dammit! But haven't these people got anything better to do with their time than to pass scuttlebutt?"

"Apparently not!" Mac agreed, forbearing to mention that the offenders would be carrying out EMD. It would only take one evening for Harm to work late to figure out what was going on, and to jump to conclusions that were probably best left unreached.

Mac wandered back to her office and sat at her desk, her forehead wrinkled in thought. Harm did look less stressed this morning, and he admitted that he's talked to Jen... That was all well and good, but he still needed to unload on someone he could trust. Before his marriage, Mac was pretty sure that it would have been her he turned to, but now... She thought for a few minutes more, and then a grin crossed her face and she picked up her phone.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen and Angela had worked steadily the whole morning through, Angela dealing with a pile of routine correspondence that was meant for the SecNav's personal attention and Jen with the proof-reading of a draft of proposed amendments to the UCMJ. A painstaking process where she had to check that not only was every i dotted and t crossed, but that every comma, semi-colon and all other punctuation was properly in its place.

Both young women were frazzled by the time the hands on the office clock crawled, ever so slowly around to twelve thirty hours, and it was with an explosive sigh of relief that Angela looked up for about the twentieth time in the last ten minutes and said, "Thank God!"

Jen looked across at her friend and smiled, "Lunch?"

"Damn straight!" Angela replied, "I could just go a piri-piri chicken sub!"

"And what makes you think that'll be on the menu today?" Jen challenged with a smile.

"Oh... a sense of optimism and a belief in the law of averages!" Angela laughed.

"Yeah, right, dream on!" Jen laughed.

It was Angela's turn to laugh, however, when on reaching the cafeteria, chicken piri-piri was indeed one of the sandwich fillings available. Angela bore her prize to the table with a distinct air of triumph, while Jen trailed behind her, carrying her own tray holding a bowl of minestrone soup and a pair of dinner rolls.

"Of all the luck!" she complained smilingly to Angela, "Remind me never to play cards with you!"

"Only happens to the righteous!" Angela smirked and took a happy bite out of her lunch. She chewed, swallowed looked across the table at Jen and said, "We haven't had much of chance to talk this morning, Jen, but you're looking a bit happier?"

Jen put down her spoon for a moment, "Yeah, I finally got that stubborn brute of a husband to open up and tell me what was bugging him!"

"And?" Angela inquired before she took another bite.

Jen grimaced, "It was pretty upsetting and a whole lot personal, but once I'd gotten him to spill the beans, he did seem slightly happier."

"To do with your mysterious absence last week?" Angela probed.

"You know that's classified!" Jen protested, "I can't tell you anything about that!"

"Ah, so it was about..." she broke off, "Damn, that man still freaks me out, especially the way he's staring... No! Don't look around!" she added hastily, dropping her eyes to her plate.

Jen fought down the temptation to turn in her seat, "Who?" she asked.

"That creepy Commander Lindsey! He's just come in, all he's bought is a cup of coffee and he's just sat there staring at me! Well screw him! I've been looking forward to this all morning, and I'm not going to let him ruin my lunch!"

Despite her brave words however, it was plain to Jen that Lindsey's appearance had put a stop to Angela's enjoyment of her lunch, and although the blonde finished her sandwich, Jen could tell that she'd had to force it down, so she quickly finished her own meal and said, "Come on. Let's get back to the office. We can grab a coffee and a tea from the break room!"

The rest of the afternoon passed quietly enough for Jen and Angela until just before sixteen hundred hours when a slightly concerned Commander Manetti entered the office and waved them both back into their seats as they made to rise, "At ease, please, ladies. Hartman, come to my office please, there's a Commander Saunders from Falls Church who wants to speak with you!"

Angela paled and she and Jen exchanged glances. The glances were not lost on Tracey Manetti and she said, "If you're in trouble, Hartman, would you like me to stay with you, as an attorney?"

Angela shook her head, "No ma'am, I think I know what the Commander wants, and if I'm right, it's not going to be very pleasant, but I won't be facing charges."

"If that's the way you want it, then very well," Tracey commented. She ushered Angela out of the office, only to return in less than three minutes, and seated herself at Angela's desk.

"You know what this is all about, don't you Rabb?" Tracey asked.

"Yes, ma'am, I rather think I do," Jen admitted somewhat reluctantly.

"And?" Tracey prompted.

"I don't know if I should tell you, ma'am..." Jen said pensively and with a troubled expression on her face.

"Is it classified?" Tracey asked gently in her soft drawl.

"No ma'am, not classified... but... personal..." Jen paused, "Ma'am, you get on OK with my husband, don't you?"

"I like to think so," Tracey replied, a little bit thrown off her stride by a seeming change of subject.

"He knows what this is all about, ma'am. He started the ball rolling, and I'd feel much happier if you spoke to him. I really don't want to discuss what I know of his work. With respect, ma'am."

"Oh! No, of course not. If I had realised that Harm... uh... your husband was involved I would never have asked you!" Tracey gasped and blushed for her double gaff.

"It's OK, ma'am," Jen managed a smile, "You weren't to know... and... ma'am... his name _is_ Harm, it's OK to use it. I do myself!"

Tracey smiled and shook her head, "I can see why he married you," she grinned, "It was either that or keep writing you up for insubordination!"

"That's strange!" Jen commented, "He's said pretty much the same in the past!"

"I'll just bet he did!" Tracey smiled. "And now for something completely different, how are those UCMJ amendments coming along?"

"About two-thirds of the way through, ma'am."

"H'mm..." Tracey looked up at the wall clock. "Well, you're not going to finish them this afternoon. Why don't you go ahead and secure?"

"Uh... I was going to wait for Angela, for Hartman, ma'am," Jen half-protested.

"No... I'll do that... you go on home and look after that husband of yours!"

Jen knew by now when it was no use arguing with Commander Manetti, and with a grateful smile she said, "If you're sure, ma'am?"

"I'm sure. Now... git... afore I change my mind!" Tracey grinned.

"Aye, aye, ma'am!" Jen replied enthusiastically.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm and Jen had finished dinner and were relaxing on the couch arguing amicably about whether to watch a movie on the DVD player, or as Harm had suggested play a game of scrabble while they finished their desserts and coffee.

The truth was that neither of them felt inclined to get up from the couch and either get the scrabble box from the cabinet where it lived along with a couple of other board games, or to rummage along the shelf and find a DVD that both of them could agree to watch.

Their indolence and reluctance to move was disturbed by the ringing of the front door bell. Harm groaned, "Do you think if we ignore it, they'll go away?" he asked hopefully.

"I doubt it!" Jen huffed, "So you'd better get off your butt and go answer it!"

Harm groaned more loudly, and extricating himself from the depths of the couch he grumbled, "If it's those damned Mormons..." and stretching, walked out to the hall and opened the front door.

"Harm! How ya doin' ol' buddy! Here hold this, while I get the rest from the trunk!"

"Keeter...?" Harm gasped as he automatically obeyed the command and received a case of beer in his outstretched arms.

"Hey, Hammer! How are you? Where's Jen?" a second, equally familiar voice accosted him from the darkness.

"Skates? Keeter, what are you doing here...?"

"Hey don't stand there blocking the door! Stand back and let us in! Jack Keeter commanded as he came back towards the door, bearing two brown paper bags that gave off, to Harm's ears, an ominous clinking.

Harm retreated in the face of overwhelming force into the lounge, where Jen on seeing the unexpected visitors, struggled to her feet, "Skates! Keeter! How wonderful!" she exclaimed, "Come on in and make yourself comfortable. What brings you up this way?"

"Don't let that beer get warm!" Keeter cautioned Harm as he pulled a bottle of non-alcoholic wine out of one of the paper bags, "This is for you, you gorgeous creature!" he grinned and dropped a broad wink at Jen, while carefully not seeing the scowl that Skates threw at him.

Harm, still operating more on auto pilot opened the case of beer and passed a can to Keeter and one to Skates before he took one for himself and subsided back on to the couch. He shook his head in bewilderment, "You're both very welcome, but what brings you out here?"

"A combination of things, really," Keeter grinned.

"First off, we've been rostered off this weekend," Skates chimed in, "and bitter experience has taught us not to hang around base when that happens!"

"And secondly, a little birdie told me that you needed some cheering up!" Keeter added, taking a healthy gulp of his beer.

"Oh yeah,. What little birdie?" Harm demanded.

"Some sort of parrot!" Keeter affirmed.

"Yeah, a Macaw," Skates grinned.

"Macaw? Mac?" Harm demanded.

"Got it in one, pal" Keeter laughed.


	67. Arresting Developments

**67**

**Arresting Developments**

Harm wore a huge grin to work on Monday morning, while Loren had a somewhat bemused smile on her face. The grin lasted, although somewhat toned down for the meeting, right though staff call and to Mac's office, where he rapped on the door-frame and with a breezy, "May I?" he waltzed right into the office and plumped down in one of Mac's visitors' chairs.

Mac leaned back in her chair and regarded him speculatively, "Well, someone seems abnormally cheerful this morning!"

"What's not to be cheerful about? The sun's in the sky, God is in his heaven, and all seems well with my world!"

"That's a change from Friday!"

"Yep, so if you've got any sense, you'll take advantage of my cheerfulness while it lasts. I drop the aid to the enemy, James pleads to selling government property and does ten years and takes a dishonourable discharge, and I'll try to sell that to the convening authority. From what you tell me his CO should support that!"

"OK... " Mac stood, walked around the table and taking a pinch of Harm's cheek in her fingers gave it a sharp tug, ignoring his yelp of protest, "Who are you, and what have you done with Harmon Rabb?" she demanded.

"What was that for?" Harm demanded blinking his watering eyes and rubbing the offended spot on his cheek.

"Just making sure that it wasn't someone pulling a Palmer!" Mac said carelessly over her shoulder as she returned to her seat.

"No dammit, it's all me!" huffed Harm, but with his grin beginning to return. "So... is that something you can take to James?"

"Yeah it is," Mac agreed calmly enough while mentally she turned cartwheels clear across the bull pen. She looked back at Harm and had the uneasy feeling that he was now grinning in part because he had seen through her façade of nonchalant acceptance and had seen her inner elation. "What makes you so happy this morning, anyway?" she asked in an effort to distract him.

"Skeeter! And it's all your fault" was his answer. An answer that left her floundering

"Who... or what is Skeeter, and why is it my fault?" Mac demanded.

"Skeeter is Skates and Keeter together," Harm grinned and saw the guilty flush rise to Mac's cheeks. Mac made a valiant effort to fight down her guilt, but surrendered to it in the form of a somewhat shamefaced grin as Harm continued, "and they gave you up within minutes of arriving at the house on Friday."

"You don't – didn't – mind?" Mac asked. That had been her one concern when she'd put the 'phone down after making the call to Keeter, that Harm might see her intervention as unwarranted and unwanted intrusion rather than a friendly act.

"Mind? No. Surprised? Yes. But it all worked out pretty well in the end. We put Keeter to work in the yard on Saturday morning, while Skates put on an apron and took on the role of domestic goddess – or tyrant, if you believe Keeter – while I took Jen shopping." Harm's grin grew even broader as he remembered Jen's reaction to that little trip.

"Uh... I take it that this wasn't just grocery shopping?" Mac asked with a smile

"No... far from it!" Harm teased his friend.

"OK, flyboy, give! Did you actually buy anything, and if so what did you buy?".

Harm's grin, impossible as it may seem, grew even broader, "Oh... we only bought one thing... so it wasn't like a girls' together shopping marathon... we didn't come home loaded down with bags covered with famous brand logos..."

"OK... you're really playing this out now," Mac warned him. "So what did you buy?"

"Oh, just a new car for Jen," Harm said off-handedly.

"A new car?" Mac almost yelped as she sat up straighter in her seat.

"Yeah," Harm smiled reminiscently, "You should have seen Jen's face... I had to pretend there was something wrong with the Lexus, so that I couldn't move it, and that meant that we couldn't open the garage to get the 'vette out, which meant we had to use her horrible old Escort. I hadn't been in it for a long while, and I forgotten how bad it was. Anyway, she kept asking where we were going, I just kept giving her directions right into to the main Chrysler dealership on Fairfax Boulevard." Harm grinned again in the remembered pleasure of seeing Jen's perplexity when he took the keys from her and the pink slip from the dashboard glove compartment. He had helped her out of the car, and walked her into the sales office, where a smiling salesman had greeted them.

"Good morning, Mister Rabb... and Mrs Rabb, I take it?"

"Yeah, this is my wife, she's the going to be the one driving it!"

"Well and good... the paperwork's all set up, and as soon as you've signed here... and here... it's all yours!" Once again Harm's face split in a grin of remembered pleasure as he had unerringly interpreted the succession of emotions that marched across Jen's expressive face. First, the puzzled expression on Jen's face gave way to one of surprise and then to one of understanding and finally one of sheer pleasure as the realisation of just what Harm had done dawned on her.

"You'd set it all up in advance!" Mac accused him.

"Damn' straight, and enlisted Frank's help! After all, what's the point of having a used-car salesman as a step-father if you don't take advantage of his knowledge and contacts in the business?"

"Harm! Frank Burnett is not a used-car salesman, he's the executive VP of Chrysler for the West Coast!"

"OK, so he got a couple of promotions along the way," Harm shrugged and grinned unabashedly. "But yeah, once I told him what I was looking for, he pulled out all the stops, and called in a couple of favours too, if I know him. Anyway he got us a very sweet deal on a new set of wheels for Jen. I feel much happier now about her driving, and certainly much, much, happier about the prospect of her driving our baby, when she arrives!"

"A girl? I didn't think you wanted to know?" Mac queried.

"Well... we... that is I, don't know... but Jen is convinced it' a girl. But I've painted the nursery in yellow!"

Mac couldn't help herself and smiled as she shook her head, "Isn't that just like you!"

"Hey, it's what they taught us... prepare for the worst, that way there'll be less surprises on the way. Come on, Mac, with the short time women spend on maternity units these days, can you imagine the panic I'd be in re-painting from pink to blue, or vice-versa?"

The idea of a pink-paint-spattered Harm was too much for Mac and she only just managed to stifle a chuckle. Making a huge effort to control her laughter, she asked in weak and shaky voice, "So what's Jen driving now?"

"A two thousand one Chrysler Sebring LX, four speed auto transmission, two point seven EER V six, with side air-bags."

"Not an SUV or mini-van?" Mac asked in mild surprise.

"Nope... after getting caught in a high-sided vehicle in that storm when she went up to Pennsylvania, Jen's gone right off those sorts of cars. Besides..." he shrugged, "I already have the Lexus if we need the extra space at any time, and anyway, mini-vans and the like aren't really needed when there's just one child in the family."

"Is that all you're planning?" Mac asked archly.

"That's for me and Jen to know and for everyone else to wait and see!" Harm smiled as he stood. "So... it's been nice visiting with you, but getting back to business, you'll take that offer to James?"

"I will. And you'll take it to the convening authority?"

"I will. See you later Mac!"

"Yeah, see you flyboy!" mac watched him saunter across the bull pen with a bitter-sweet smile on her lips and a fond shake of her head, as the thought occurred to her that even when things were at their best between them, she had never made Harm so happy as he appeared now

**lxvii-lxvii-lxvii-lxvii-lxvii**

"How did it go on Friday, with that Commander from Falls Church?" Jen asked Angela as the both took their chairs at the start of the day.

"Not too bad... she was pretty sympathetic... I got the feeling that she was really pissed over the whole damn situation."

"Yeah... she'd spent the last week investigating how far the rot had spread in Pearl," Jen said.

"Pearl? As in Pearl Harbour? Hawaii? Man, that's a really tough billet!" Angela said enviously.

"Yeah, she was only out there because the first Jag who was sent had an 'accident' and went over the edge of a cliff and ended up in hospital, so she went out there to pick up the slack.|"

There was something in the way Jen had said the word that caught Angela's ear, "But it wasn't was it? The accident, it wasn't one."

Jen shook her head, "No... and from what I heard he was damn lucky to have survived!" A thought crossed Jen's mind, "Uh... you had told Tom all about it... before this weekend, I mean?"

"Oh yeah... he wasn't real happy about it and was talking about baseball bats and skulls... but I've calmed him down, and he took the news of my interview pretty well, considering..." Angela gave herself a shake, "So the weekend went like they usually do, grocery shopping, chores, same old, same old... you?"

"Oh... we had a couple of friends show up unexpectedly on Friday night, they'd heard Harm needed cheering up, so they came over from Andrews to stay the weekend. It was a little bit of a surprise, them just showing up; but Saturday morning Harm put Jack to work in the yard, and I set Beth loose on the household chores while Harm took me shopping... but not for groceries!

"So what did he take you shopping for?" Angela asked glad of the change of subject.

"I'll get to that..." Jen promised, "But it was quite a performance...first he made up some sort of excuse about not being able to move the Lexus, so we had to take my old Escort..." Jen said with a smile, and launched into a potted account of the acquisition of her new car.

"And presented me with a damn great Chrysler sedan!" Jen grinned as she finished telling her version of the great Saturday morning shopping expedition to Angela.

"I hope you gave him hell – lovingly of course," Angela smiled.

"I wanted to! I really did! But I was so amazed, all I could do was sit there in the sales office with my mouth hanging open so far that my chin was nearly on my knees!" Jen gurgled.

"But glad to have something a bit more reliable than that old jalopy?" Angela teased.

"Yeah, I am," Jen agreed, and patted her bump, "especially considering this one's future transport needs!"

"Yeah, but you've a little while to go before she starts asking to borrow the car, mom!" Angela chuckled.

**lxvii-lxvii-lxvii-lxvii-lxvii**

Today was Commander Saunders' second working day in a row at the Pentagon. This morning she had re-interviewed Lieutenant Martinelli and taken her sworn statement, and now she sat listening to Lieutenant Toranama's statement almost in disbelief. It wasn't just that the stories were almost identical, that just reflected the fact that Lindsey had apparently developed an MO that worked for him, it was the short intervals between Lindsey's approaches to the different women.

What was more disturbing to the JAG Commander was that only Pearson had attempted to complain to a higher authority about Lindsey's behaviour and she had been bought off by a plum billet and an early promotion, that in itself was evidence that there had been a cover-up of Lindsey's activities. That meant that someone higher up the chain of command knew what has happening, and had chosen not to take action. Unfortunately, that was the only strand of evidence, and without corroboration was almost worthless. The other victims of Lindsey's approaches had all cited various reasons as to why they didn't, Martinelli in particular had said that she hadn't reported the incident through the chain of command because she didn't want to be shipped out at a moment's notice, the same way that Pearson had, which at least argued that Martinelli suspected a cover-up, but a Lieutenant's suspicions could hardly be counted as evidence..

Shaking her head at the evidence contained in Lieutenant Toronama's statement, Saunders gathered her papers and then with a conscience-stricken glance at her watch – she hadn't realised just how long she'd been tied up with Toranama – she left the Pentagon in a rush, heading for Falls Church to check on Lieutenant Pearson, and then a session with Rear Admiral Morris.

**lxvii-lxvii-lxvii-lxvii-lxvii**

Harriet huffed in exasperation. The files she had been asked to find were, according to her filing system, in three different archives in three different locations. The most recent files would be in the law library, while the file on the carriage of merchandise by sea would be in the basement archive storage, but the file on the GATT agreement would be in the old stationery supply closet, that was now doubling as a broom closet after the shuffle that had been needed to clear an office for Commander Saunders.

A series of crisp instructions sent three young Legalman Three's, armed with a list of the required files, to the various hidden corners of the building, while Harriet returned to her computer and tried to work out a forecast of the number of legal pads that would bed required for the forthcoming financial year'

She wasn't left in peace for long, a sheepish Legalman Three Reubens approached and said, "I'm sorry, ma'am, I searched that entire closet. I've looked in every box, but the file you sent me for just isn't there."

Harriet glared at the young woman and just about managed to stifle a scream of frustration. Taking a firmer grip on her temper she closed her VDU screen, setting the password prompt, and said quietly and calmly, "Nonsense! It is there. You... oh, alright, show me!"

Reubens fell in two paces to Harriet's right flank rear as the blonde officer bustled across the bull pen and into the corridor that led past the elevator to the storage closets, and Commander Saunders' temporary office, beyond the male and female heads. Harriet's regulation pattern pumps tapped a sharp tattoo on the polished hardwood floor, attracting the attention of the slim figure who stood at the end of the hallway gazing disconsolately pout of the window that overlooked the table and chair studded lawn outside the commissary. As she turned to see it was Harriet approaching, her face fell even further, making her, to Harriet's eyes look absurdly young. Harriet also saw the visitor's badge pinned to the Lieutenant (JG's) uniform blouse.

Harriet frowned at that; there was no legitimate reason that she could think of for a visitor to be alone in this part of the building. "Can I help you, Lieutenant? Are you lost?"

"Oh! No ma'am! I'm waiting for Commander Saunders to come back. She left me in her office and told me to wait for her!"

Given that clue, Harriet recognised the other blonde as the Lieutenant Pearson who had been escorted back from Pearl by Commander Saunders. "How long ago did Commander Saunders leave?" she asked.

"At zero nine fifteen, ma'am. I guess I shouldn't have left her office, but I got so bored... and I hoped there might be something worth seeing out this window..." she gave a helpless shrug. "I guess I was wrong about that, too..."

Harriet looked at her watch, it wasn't far off mid-day, and by her reckoning Pearson had been left kicking her heels for over two and a half hours. She frowned, "Has anyone shown you where the galley is?" she asked.

"No, ma'am..."

"So... you haven't even had a coffee this morning?"

"No ma'am, not since breakfast."

Harriet was nearly surprised at the surge of anger that rose in her as her maternal instincts surfaced. The young woman may have screwed the pooch in some way, according to scuttlebutt anyway, but there was no reason for parking her in a deserted office all morning to stew in her juices, and no doubt worry about was going to happen to her. "Right. Reubens – get in there and find that file. Don't come back to me without it! Lieutenant Pearson, with me – grab your cover and purse!"

Harriet led Pearson back to the bull pen at brisk pace and then straight through to the galley and quickly showed her where the various items were stored, but finished with, "But don't bother making a coffee right now, in... ten minutes or so," she glanced at her watch, "I'll be heading for lunch, and I'll show you how to get to the commissary, and then after lunch you can join me in the bull pen, and we'll find something for you to do. Not a punishment detail," she grinned as she saw the doubt in the younger officer's eyes, "just something to stop you climbing the walls... although it might not be very interesting, but at least it's got to be better than just standing and staring out the window!"

"Yes, ma'am," Pearson replied, the hint of a smile playing around the corners of her mouth.

**lxvii-lxvii-lxvii-lxvii-lxvii**

Barbara Saunders fretted as the elevator ground its way back down to the first floor, and almost flew out of the elevator and across the floor to the CP desk, "Has a Lieutenant (JG) Pearson handed in her visitor's badge?" she demanded without preamble of the USMC Staff Sergeant behind the desk.

"At what time, ma'am?" he asked.

"I don't know! If I did, I wouldn't be asking... say between zero nine hundred and now!"

"One moment, ma'am, I'll check..." Staff Sergeant Cotterill found Pearson's entry in the Visitor's Log and saw the space that showed the badge hand not been turned in, "No ma'am, the badge has not been handed in."

"Could she have left the building by any route?" Saunders demanded.

"Uh... not during those times, ma'am. We've had no deliveries, so the freight entrance has been secured all morning, and if she would have tried to leave through the kitchens, I'm sure we'd have heard the ruckus, ma'am." Cotterill added that last rider in attempt to inject a touch of humour into the situation. The officer in front of him looked as if she was just about to lose it, and that would not be good for discipline, already her impatient manner and abrupt demands were attracting attention from both the Lance Corporal behind the desk and the PFC standing post at the main doors.

"Ruckus, Staff Sergeant? Oh... never mind! If she hasn't left the building, then where is she... where could she have gone that she'd need to take her purse and cover...?"

Cotterill glanced up at the clock above the CP hatch, "Have you checked the commissary, ma'am? They serve first sittings from twelve hundred onwards

"Thank you!" Saunders practically gasped, and spinning on he heel, she strode off in the direction of the commissary.

Cotterill shook his head in despair, "Squids!" he said in disgust to the Lance Corporal, "Don't you never do what she just did, in our job it's a career ender!"

"What's that Staff Sergeant?" Lance Corporal Detweiler asked.

"Don't ever lose a prisoner, or that shiny MP shield will be off your chest before you can even blink and you'll end up as a private 0311 puking your guts out aboard some LHD somewhere!"

"No, Staff Sergeant," Detweiler said obediently, before turning his attention back to last month's signing in and out book.

**lxvii-lxvii-lxvii-lxvii-lxvii**

Harriet Sims, lunch tray in hand, conducted a similarly burdened Pearson to a table in the corner of the dining area, next to a window that looked out onto the same lawn at which Pearson had been staring from the third floor window. The two women sat and started eating, Harriet watching the younger blonde with unabashed curiosity, while Pearson kept her eyes down, her attention firmly focussed on her roast chicken with potato salad. After some few minutes, Harriet put her fork down and took a drink from her glass of milk, grimacing as she did so.

"Ma'am, if you don't like milk, why do you drink it?" Pearson asked, and blushed, aware that even as she said it, it sounded much more blunt than she had meant it.

Harriet, however, smiled indulgently, it was just the sort of question that she would have asked, but that didn't mean she was going to answer it with the whole truth. "Doctor's orders," she answered, "apparently my calcium level is low, so I need to increase my intake of dairy products."

"Oh..." that one question seemed to have exhausted Pearson's supply of small talk and she lapsed into silence again.

Harriet cut a slice from her pork chop but then hesitated before carrying it to her mouth, "What are you doing here, Lieutenant? I mean there's scuttlebutt floating around, but although they say it's usually true, I prefer to get my intel direct from source!"

"I can accept that, ma'am!" And for once Pearson looked straight into Harriet's eyes, and what was more, with a definite trace of a grin on her lips.

Encouraged by even this infinitesimal sign of a person behind the fragile barrier that Pearson had erected, Harriet pressed for more, "And why is that?" she asked.

"It's what I do, ma'am, I'm an Intel Analyst and Cryptographer, I look for anomalies in data streams, interpret them and then analyse the interpretations... Oh... maybe I shouldn't have told you that..."

"Nice deflection, Lieutenant!" Harriet grinned, half-admiringly, "But it's OK, you didn't tell me anything I didn't already know... But, you have given me an idea..."

"What's that ma'am?"

"Make that Harriet," the older woman smiled. "Well, it can't be much fun for you stuck in that pokey little office all day, how would it be if I spoke to Commander Saunders, and then if she OK's it, then you could spend the days working with me. I could do with a hand, and it will give you something to do. It won't be as intense as analysing data streams, but..."

"I think I'd like that... Harriet, and it's Jo," Pearson added shyly.

"Good! Then I'll speak to Commander Saunders just as soon as she gets back..."

"Uh... she's back, Harriet," Pearson interrupted, nodding in the direction of the main doors to the dining area, where Saunders was causing a minor log-jam as she stood just inside them scanning the room for someone or something.

It didn't take a genius to figure out who, or what, Saunders had mislaid, and Harriet, with a grin, stood and stared across the room until at last Saunders' eyes found hers. Harriet nodded and looked across the table at Pearson, directing Saunders' eyes to the younger blonde, and Harriet grinned again as she saw the other's shoulders sag with relief.

Saunders made her way through the maze of tables and hairs to find both Harriet and Jo Pearson stand as she approached, Harriet one handedly pulling out a chair for her. Saunders was in a mood to vent her relief at finding Jo had not absconded by flaying her from leaving the office without permission, but was stopped dead in her tracks by Harriet's pre-emptive strike.

"Why don't you leave your cover here, while you go get some lunch ma'am, and then you can join us. I'm sure you must be pretty hungry and thirsty, it seems that Lieutenant Pearson certainly was, having been parked in that office and not even having been told where the galley was." There was nothing in Harriet's smile, tone or words to indicate even the slightest hint of insubordination but the open-mouthed Commander was in no doubt that she had just been thoroughly reprimanded for thoughtlessly abandoning her charge in a strange new environment.

With a muttered, "Thanks, I'll do that," the now pink-cheeked Saunders dropped her cover on the chair partially occupied by the other two officer's covers and purse slung over her shoulder she made her way to the line of personnel waiting to select and then pay for their meals.

Harm grinned across the table at Mac, "I wonder what that was all about," he remarked to his friend as they both watched the little scene play out. "From where I was sitting, it looks like Harriet just tore our Babs a new one!"

"H'mm, I sympathise with her," Mac grinned, "Harriet's done it a time or two to me, when I've needed a wake up call. Never an insubordinate word, never an 'I told you so,' just a sweet smile and a gentle reminder that somewhere along the line, generally when I already had a guilty conscience, I had royally screwed the pooch." Mac paused to take a sip of her chocolate shake, "But underlying it all a hint of steel. Harriet Sims is damn sight more like her mother at times than I think she likes to admit!" she concluded ruefully.

"Oh, yeah!" Harm agreed in heart-felt manner; he too had had the benefit of an occasional wake-up call from Harriet.

"So... you too, eh?" Mac grinned.

"I'll take the fifth on that, counsellor!" Harm grinned.

"I'll take that as a yes then!" Mac chuckled and returned her attention to her bacon cheese burger with coleslaw.

Barbara Saunders returned to where Harriet and Jo had paused in their consumption of their lunches while they waited for the senior officer to carry her meal to the table, but once she had seated herself and started eating, they picked up their knives and forks once more.

"I hadn't realised that you weren't aware of the Galley," Barbara said to Jo, by way of apology, "and I certainly didn't expect to be away from Falls Church for so long. And the devil's in it, that I'm going to be away from JAG for most of the afternoon as well, I guess..."

"That's not too much of a problem, ma'am, if you're willing to help me out?" Harriet asked.

"Go on, Lieutenant." Barbara eyed Harriet warily.

"Well... the Lieutenant needs to be here at JAG, and you're busy running around all over northern Virginia, result: the Lieutenant's spending her time twiddling her thumbs and staring at the walls. I could really use some help at the moment. So, if you'll allow me to take the Lieutenant off your hands during office hours, I've got plenty of work that'll keep her occupied."

"What sort of work?" Barbara asked, "It wouldn't be appropriate for her to be looking through case files, or anything like that – no offence Lieutenant," she turned to Jo, "but even the appearance of the slightest degree of collusion..."

"No, nothing like that!" Harriet agreed hastily, "But at the moment I'm up to my neck in trying to work out how much stationery the office is going to need next year, and then costing the amounts of each item and coming up with a grand total so that the Admiral can allow for the stationery in his next budget proposal. It's not very interesting work," she shot a glance at Jo, "but..."

"But it beats staring out of the window at the dumpsters!" Jo finished for her with a grateful smile, before she turned back to Barbara, "Ma'am, it would help if I was doing something instead of just sitting on my butt and watching the walls... and I hate to say it ma'am, but there's a bit of a smell in that office... it isn't very pleasant..."

"I thought as much!" Barbara said with a grin of relief, "But I wasn't sure I wasn't just imagining it! And yeah... I don't see why Lieutenant Pearson shouldn't help you like you said, Lieutenant Sims, but definitely no access to case files, understood?"

"Yes, ma'am!" the two Lieutenants agreed enthusiastically.

**lxvii-lxvii-lxvii-lxvii-lxvii**

Commander Barbara Saunders looked at the sheet of paper in her hand with satisfaction. It had taken only a few minutes with Admiral Chegwidden as she laid the evidence before him, and only slightly longer with Admiral Morris, the Chief Judge to secure the warrant.

Now, together with an escort of a Lieutenant of Marines and two Marine Corps MP Staff NCOs, she had signed in as a visitor at the Pentagon's southern CP, and the small group marched along the maze of hallways towards the SecNav's suite of offices.

Although she didn't want to lose the element of surprise, courtesy dictated that she inform the SecNav of her intentions before she carried them out and so it was with just a little impatience she knocked on the door to the ante chamber to his office, and entered.

Penny Marshal, the SecNav's civilian personal assistant looked up from her keyboard in mild surprise. "May I help you Commander?" she asked, while wondering what business such a strangely composed party could have with her boss.

"I'm sorry for the unheralded appearance, and I know I don't have an appointment," Barbara said courteously, "but I need a moment or two with the SecNav."

"I'm sorry, Commander. The SecNav's away from his desk for the afternoon, he's attending a DoD meeting with the Joint Chiefs... can I help?"

"Oh... no... no thank... Oh, actually, yes, can you direct me to Commander Lindsey's office?"

Armed with the information provided by Ms Marshal, Saunders and her entourage arrived at the door baring a nameplate marked with the legend 'CDR T F Lindsey'. Barbara turned to the Marine Corps MPs and spoke to them all, "I don't expect for one second that he will resist. But if he does then you will need to be ready to restrain him."

"Yes, ma'am. Understood," Lieutenant Murray replied, wondering as he did so whether Commander Saunders had ever had a grandmother, and if so, had the Commander ever tried to teach the said grandmother to suck eggs.

Barbara didn't wait to knock on the door, she just opened it and stepped into the office to see Commanders Lindsey and Manetti angrily confronting each other.

Lindsey broke off his argument with the petite officer and glared at the four intruders, "What the..." he started to say, but was cut off by Barbara.

"I'm Commander Saunders of the JAG's Office, and I am investigating allegation of disobedience to regulations, conduct unbecoming an officer and fraternisation. Commander Theodore Franklin Lindsey, I am arresting you on suspicion of having committed multiples of those offences. You have the right to remain silent, but anything you do say may be taken down in evidence and used against you at proceeding related to those offences. You have the right to a military attorney, free of charge; you have the right to a civilian attorney to represent you at you own expense. Do you understand these rights?"

"Of course I understand my rights, I'm attorney! But this is preposterous..."

"Take it easy, Commander," Tracey Manetti intervened, looking backwards and forwards between Lindsey and Saunders, "You don't want to end up faces charges of resisting apprehension too!"


	68. Some Gentle Ribbing

**68**

**Some Gentle Ribbing**

For a moment Commander Theodore Lindsey stood, staring ashen faced at Barbara Saunders. The Marine officer glanced at his two NCOs silently cautioning them to be ready to act. His glance wasn't needed as both men and tensed for action of their own accord. But their action was required either, with a sigh Lindsey seemed almost to collapse in on himself.

As his shoulders slumped Barbara and Tracey Manetti both drew a deep, relieved breaths. "Can I take your word, as an officer, that you will come along with me without resistance? Or do I need to have you cuffed?" Commander Saunders asked.

"No, I won't resist," Lindsey mumbled, and moved to pick up his cover and briefcase.

"I'll take your briefcase, Sir," the Marine Corps Lieutenant said, "But I'll leave you your cover until we get to the Navy yard."

Lindsay acknowledge the courtesy with the barest dip of his head, Barbara Saunders moved to the door, with a curt, "with me, please, Commander."

If anyone in the huge building thought it unusual for two Navy officers to be followed by a Marine Corps MP officer and two MP staff NCOs through the complex of long halls, nobody thought it unusual enough to be mentioned.

**lxviii-lxviii-lxviii-lxviii-lxviii**

Lieutenant Commander Tracy Manetti the last look around Commander Lindsey's office before she turned the lights out and closed the door behind her. She had taken temporary custody of the files and documents that had sat on his desk, and had ensured that the wall safe, to which she did not have the combination, was properly secured. Feeling that there was now nothing she could do to enhance the physical security of the office, she hefted her now heavy briefcase and headed back to own office within the SECNAV's suite.

A frown marked her forehead as she strolled, preoccupied, down the hallway. The charges the blonde JAG Commander, Saunders, had rehearsed were serious enough that if Teddy Lindsey were to be found guilty he could certainly kiss goodbye to his career and pension and would probably spend a number of years locked up in Leavenworth. Shaking her head over the man's stupidity, Tracy became almost certain that commander Saunders visit this morning at something to do with her previous visit and her interview of Personnel Specialist Two Hartman Almost simultaneously with the reaching this conclusion she found herself outside her support staff's office. Opening the door, she called out, "As you were, please," out of consideration for Legalman One Coates' condition.

She put her bulging briefcase on the floor, and in order to gain time in which to Marshal her thoughts, for a couple of seconds she bent and flexed her fingers, as if the heavy bag and cause them to cramp.

"I'm not going to beat about the bush, PS Two Hartman, but I am going to tell you, both, to keep quiet about what I'm going to tell you now. Commander Saunders, the JAG officer who interviewed you recently, has just arrested Commander Lindsey, on various charges alleging conduct to the prejudice, conduct unbecoming, amongst others. Am I to take it that Commander Saunders of two visits to this section are not unconnected?"

"Yes, ma'am, given the circumstances, I pretty well much bet that the Commander's visits are pretty thoroughly connected," Angela Hartman replied.

"If commander Lindsey was behaving in such a manner, why on Earth didn't you come forward and tell somebody about it?" Commander Manetti demanded, her face and body language reflecting the confusion she felt.

Angela blushed, "Well, ma'am, nothing but a few words ever passed between me and the Commander, and at first I just figured that he was a guy who let his libido run away with him. It wasn't until after I'd been here a while that I heard little bits of scuttlebutt that suggested I wasn't the only lower ranked female he'd try to hit on. By then enough time had passed for me to gain a better perspective," she shrugged, "Okay, maybe a false perspective, but I also had to take into account my husband, and what his reaction was likely to be if I had gone public. As it was, ma'am, I had to talk pretty fast when all this blew up, to prevent Tom from storming this place with a baseball bat. And no, ma'am, I am not joking about that!"

"Yeah, I can see how that could cause difficulties, but if you had spoken out sooner than perhaps other young women might not have been subjected to the same sort of harassment."

"True enough ma'am, but if any of the ones he'd approached before he approached me had spoken out then I wouldn't have been subjected to that sort of harassment!"

Tracy mentally retreated a step, "Yes, that's true enough, and I should apologise, I haven't been in that situation, so I don't know how I would react. I had no right to judge you. But, you know, once Commander Saunders had interviewed you a heads-up might have come in handy."

"I can see where that would have helped, ma'am, but Commander Saunders strictly cautioned me once I'd made my statement that I couldn't discuss the case with anyone unless and until it was decided that my testimony wouldn't be needed for any upcoming disciplinary action."

Tracy Manetti winced inwardly, she was supposed to be an attorney, and she should have realised the implications of what she demanded without having had to have pointed out to her by an enlisted member. "Very well, Hartman, but if there's anything I can do to help along the way… You only have to ask."

"Yes ma'am, thank you ma'am."

Tracy looked at Jen, "And I can quite see why you would be reluctant to speak about the case."

"Not just this case ma'am, but any case in which my husband is involved," Jen said calmly, but with a good deal of resolution in her voice.

Tracy nodded her acknowledgement of Jen's position and then checked her watch against the time shown on the office clock and bending slightly at the knee picked up her briefcase, "Very well, the SECNAV has been out most of the morning, and I'm pretty sure that he has no knowledge of what's been happening, so I'm going to be camping out in his outer office, so if anything comes up that need bringing to my attention, that's where I'll be. Ladies."

Tracy inclined her head in farewell and drawing a deep breath let herself out into the hall and headed for the SECNAV's personal offices.

**lxviii-lxviii-lxviii-lxviii-lxviii**

Admiral Chegwidden replaced the phone on its cradle and in an effort to dispel his building headache pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. With a sigh, realising that the symptoms were to advance to be dispelled by the simple act he reached out and troubled the intercom switch, "Tiner?"

"_Yes, Sir_," the omens disembodied voice floated out of the desktop speaker.

"Tiner, have we got any more aspirin?"

"_Just about, Sir_," his henchman replied, "_I was figuring on getting some more, either at lunch or after secure, Sir._"

"Damn the logistics, Tiner, just get me a couple of aspirins in here, right now!"

"_Aye, aye, Sir_!"

Chegwidden released the intercom switch, sat back in his chair, ran both hands front to back over his bald scalp and took a couple of deep breaths. He had just, over the phone and metaphorically, had his head handed to him on a silver platter. SECNAV had not been at all amused to find that during his meeting, together with the secretaries of the army and air force, with the joint chiefs, his senior naval legal advisor had been arrested on a warrant issued by JAG HQ. Secretary Sheffield had communicated his lack of amusement in no uncertain terms, and his temper had not been improved by Chegwidden's reminder that he, the JAG, was acting on instructions given to him personally by the SECNAV, and witnessed by no less a person than the Congresswoman from Michigan, Bobbie Latham.

His ruminations were cut short by the sharp double tap on his door, announcing the arrival of Tiner together with a much-needed aspirins. Accepting the little pills with a grunt, which in the short hand developed between Admiral and Yeoman over the years was meant and accepted as a thank you, Chegwidden threw his head back and swallowed. Tiner was about to return to his own desk when his chief's raised right hand stopped in his tracks.

"Sir?"

"Tiner, I want you to find Commander Saunders, and if she's not in the building, track her down give her my compliments and tell her she is to get her a… uh… she's to get back here and report to me ASAP, understood?"

"Aye, aye, Sir!" Tiner responded crisply. He paused for a further couple of seconds waiting to hear if his chief had any further instructions.

Chegwidden glared malevolently at Tiner over the top of his reading glasses and growled, "That will be all Yeoman, thank you!"

Tiner froze into a brace and held it for a brief moment before repeating his "Aye, aye, Sir!" and then executing a smart about-face, left the office and his distinctly unhappy principal to stew in his own juice. However, once he was safely out of the Admiral's office, Jason Tiner allowed himself to relax slightly as he took his seat behind his own desk ' I don't know what Commander Saunders said or done, but the old man sure as hell sounds like he wants her blood!' And although not without sympathy for the errant officer he couldn't help the wry grin spread across his face.

"Something amusing you, Tiner?"

"Uh… Not really, no Sir," the Yeoman almost stammered as he looked up to see Commander Rabb in the doorway, "U'mm… Is there something I can help you with, Sir?" The younger man made a frantic mental grab for his composure.

Although Harm felt more than just a twinge of sympathy for the situation which Tiner had found himself, he managed to keep any hint of amusement in his eyes face or voice, "Yeah, you can, both Colonel Mackenzie and I need to see the Admiral at some time today, and sooner would be better than later, so if you can find a clear space on his calendar for both the Colonel myself, that will do, thank you."

"He… He is pretty free now, Sir, but he's just had a call from the SECNAV, and it appears to have made him a bit hot under the collar, he's passed the word for Commander Saunders to report direct to him the second she sets foot in the building, and just in case I didn't get the message that her presence was urgently required, he's told me to track down and tell her to get her… person back here ASAP. So, it might be more beneficial for you and the Colonel to wait, maybe until after lunch, and I can pencil you in for… say fourteen hundred, Sir?"

Harm considered what he'd just been told, and then with a brisk nod which combined thanks with acknowledgement, he said, "Thanks, Tiner, I'll check that's okay with the Colonel, and I'll get back to you."

"Right, Sir," Tiner replied, while entering the appointment into his chief's calendar.

Harm made his way around the perimeter of the bullpen, stopping at Mac's office door, and tapping gently on the door frame stop Mac looked up, and smiled, "Hey there, flyboy, good to see a smile on your face. What's up?"

Harm indicated the visitors chairs in front of the Marine officer's desk, asking permission with a quirk of his eyebrow. "Sure, go right ahead," Mac invited him.

Once seated, Harm opened the folder he had brought with him and wordlessly slid a single sheet of paper across the desk for his partners scrutiny. Mac took the paper and read it through, reaching the end she pursed her lips in a soundless whistle, and looking up at Harm, she said "Wow, you didn't waste any time on this, flyboy!"

"Well, I figured we'd spent enough time on this, it took some fast talking, but I sold it to the convening authority, so all we need to do now is for both of us to sign off on it, and then get the Admiral to sign off on it, then all that leaves for us to do is to arrange a date for the allocution of the offences specified."

"That's still some pretty slick work," Mac said appreciatively.

Harm eased back in his chair, and grinned somewhat self-consciously, it had been a pretty slick piece of work, and although it was especially good hearing that opinion coming from Mac, he didn't hear it often enough to be completely at ease, with even this mild praise, "Well… I hope you feel the same later, we have an unconfirmed appointment with the Admiral at fourteen hundred to try to sell him on the idea."

"He's in his office now, isn't he?" Mac asked, and then continued without waiting for his reply, "What's wrong with going to see him now?"

"Oh, it seems that Babs," he emphasised the over-girly diminutive just a little too much perhaps, "has managed to irritate the Admiral, and Tiner's advice is that we give him time to get his blood pressure under control before we brace him with this."

Mac nodded sagely, "Tiner actually said that, or is that your spin on what he did say?" She grinned, and tilted her head to the side as she waited for his answer.

Harm's grin spread even further across his face, "You got me there Mac, that wasn't quite word for word what Tiner said, but I figured that's what he meant."

Mac leaned forward, her elbows on the desk and her fingers lightly interlaced on top of the file she had been reading when Harm interrupted her, "Well… After all his years with the Admiral, I guess he has learned to read his moods, so unless I hear different in the meantime, I'll see you in the Admiral's office at fourteen hundred."

Harm recognised a dismissal when he heard one, so levering himself out of the chair, he stood and merely commented lightly, "Your signature, Mac?"

Mac felt the blood rush to her cheeks, and with a silent curse at herself for forgetting to do so she and avoiding the cynically amused grin that she just knew Harm was wearing, she picked up her pen and scrawled her signature across the bottom of all three copies of the pre-trial agreement, "There, happy now, Squid?"

"Yeah, thanks, Jarhead."

The amusement in his voice was too much for her to resist, and she raised her eyes to his and reluctantly allowed her own grin to appear.

**lxviii-lxviii-lxviii-lxviii-lxviii**

Harriet Sims sat at her desk with Lieutenant JG Jo Pearson next to her as she tried to explain the method she used to calculate the amount of stationery that the office would need for the next year, "The problem is, Jo that with the current situation we have absolutely no idea how many attorneys or how many support staff will have in any given month, let alone for a whole year."

"Well… It's not really the number of attorneys or the number of support staff, is it ma'am?"

Harriet looked blankly at the younger woman, "Of course it is! The more attorneys and the more staff we have, the more supplies we need."

"But that's only true up to a point, ma'am. It doesn't matter, really, if you have one attorney or ten attorneys what matters is the total number of cases they handle during the year."

"Go on…" Harriet encouraged her.

"Well, ma'am, if you have ten attorneys all handling, say, ten cases each…"

Harriet giggled, "If you told these guys that they were only going to have ten cases each next year, they'd think they'd died and gone to heaven!"

Jo grinned, "Probably, ma'am, but my point is each case needs a file jacket, and maybe as much as a whole legal pad to make notes, plus the requisite amount of legal forms, pencils to make those notes, Acco clips, and all the rest. Now, suppose we say that instead of these of ten cases per attorney, they get twenty cases each, we have just doubled the amount of supplies needed without moving a single attorney or a member of support staff. So the way I see it, ma'am, the determinant factor is the likely number of cases per year, rather than the number of staff."

Harriet nodded slowly, "Yes, I see your point, but all that's done is to factor in a different set of figures, it's still doesn't really help me work out how many pencils legal pads or boxes of Acco clips the office will need."

"True enough ma'am, but you can't tell me that this place doesn't store every scrap of paper since the Navy stopped using parchment."

"And the point of that observation would be?" Harriet asked.

Pearson nodded at the monitor, "I wouldn't mind betting that somewhere in these machines is a record of the total number of cases by year for the last ten years at least. If so, average those ten years of cases, add ten percent for inflation, that would give you a forecast number for next year, then add another ten percent for contingencies and at least you've then got some sort of figure to base your planning on rather than just by guess and by God."

Harriet sat silently staring at the JG for five long seconds, before her smile spread across her face, "You, Lieutenant Pearson, have probably just saved me several days of work going through last years supplies requisitions on an item by item basis. If we weren't in the middle of JAG, on duty and in uniform, I'd probably hug you! But…" she sighed, "as we are on duty and we are where we are you just going to have to make do with a really, really big thank you!"

Pearson blinked at the effusive nature of Harriet's thanks, her ideas had rarely met with such an enthusiastic response in the past. It had been her misfortune to be posted to two different intelligence branch offices, where those in charge had been somewhat Neanderthal in their approach to young, attractive Junior officers, so for one of her ideas to be accepted so wholeheartedly was a new experience for the younger woman.

"Please ma'am, there's no call for making it a big thing, it's just analytical thinking…"

"Go get yourself a cup of coffee Jo," she suggested, "we could both do with a mini break, and then when we get back, we can start doing the math!" she grinned, and then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the door to the bullpen open, and a Marine hold it so to allow an African American officer wearing the shoulder boards and mill rindes of a JAG Commander entered the room ahead of him. Harriet came to her feet and crossed the room towards the visitor, becoming aware as she did so that the visitor could only be described as huge. He was as tall as Commander Rabb, but much wider through the shoulders and deeper through the chest and Harriet guessed that he must have about forty pounds over the former aviator and from what she could see none of that was excess body fat.

"Good morning, Sir," she greeted him, looking up into his eyes, "I'm Lieutenant Sims, may I help you?"

"Good morning, Lieutenant. Yes, I'm Commander Baxter, I'm being TAD here for the Lindsey court-martial. But before anything else, I need to report to the Admiral, so if you'd be so good as to show me…?"

"O… of, of course, Sir, if you care to walk with me Sir."

Harriet led the visiting officer across the bullpen to the Yeoman's ante-office, "Tiner, Commander Baxter, arriving on TAD, he needs to report to the Admiral." She turned back to Baxter, "Sir, once you have seen the Admiral, I'll be happy to help you settle in and give you the nickel tour."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Baxter acknowledged her help and wordlessly handed his briefcase and cover to Tiner for safekeeping while that young man toggled the intercom to let the Admiral know that he had an unscheduled visitor.

"_Send him in, Tiner_!" That Admiral Chegwidden was still unhappy with the world was pretty well evident from his tone of voice.

Harriet and Tiner exchanged a speaking glance, which Baxter either didn't see or deliberately decided to ignore. He rapped smartly on the door frame and waited for the barked invitation to enter. Harriet waited for the door to close behind him and then with a nod in Tiner's direction she headed back towards her desk and interrupted work.

It seemed however, that she wasn't destined to complete much work this morning. Even before she'd made half the distance between Tiner's desk and their own, she was halted by a familiar and usually much liked voice.

"Lieutenant, who is the visiting fireman?" Harm demanded as he lounged out of his office.

"A Commander Baxter, Sir. He's he's here for the Lindsey court-martial, and as Commander Saunders is prosecuting, at a guess I'd say he's here for the defence."

"Not a bad guess, Lieutenant, and if I had to put money on it, then I'd be banking on you!" Harm smiled.

Harriet managed to muster a half smile, but said rather pettishly, "I knew he was coming, but I just wish I'd had a bit more notice.…" Her second attempt at a smile was a little more convincing, "so if you'll excuse me, Sir, I got to rush to try to confirm some rather tentative arrangements."

"Of course, Harriet, don't let me keep you," Harm replied, and watched with a gentle smile of amusement on his face as the blonde officer scurried across the bullpen to the main doors. But even as he watched his smile slowly faded as memories of his days as a midshipman at Annapolis surfaced.

Spinning on his heel, he returned to his office and quickly scanned the bookshelf on the wall opposite his desk. With a grunt of satisfaction he hefted down a large, thick tome bound in Navy blue leather, the Academy's arms of blue and gold almost invisible against the dark background. Carrying the book to his desk Harm sat and opened it at the index. A second grunt, neither of satisfaction nor dissatisfaction escaped him as he saw, as he had expected, the name of Baxter R, A. Gently turning the pages he leafed through the book until he reached Baxter's page. As he studied the sixteen-year-old photograph, he nodded and his hand came up gently massage his ribs.

A polite cough from the direction of his doorway temporarily diverted his attention from page, and he managed a half smile, "How can I help you, Mac?" He asked his visitor.

The Marine lieutenant colonel leaned casually against his door jamb and regarded him levelly, "You know him, don't you, Harm?"

"Oh yeah! From the Academy. We were in different companies but we shared some classes, and… I don't know, for some reason, we just didn't like each other. Oh, it never got physical between us, just filthy looks and some pretty heated arguments. But then right at the end of the course when the post graduation assignments were posted, and my name was up for all to see that I was going to flight school, things went from bad to worse. Of course in the years since, I've heard it all, hotshot, arrogant, cocky, jet jockey… Hell, I've heard all that and worse, from you." He grinned up at Mac, and then continued, "but then the weekend before graduation some of the guys, and gals, were playing a pick-up game of touch football. I didn't even realise that Baxter was on the field." Harm nodded at the page in front of him, "Baxter played inside linebacker for the Academy, and had been MVP for the annual Army/Navy game against West Point, so he definitely knew what he was doing on the field. I was playing wide receiver; even by Academy standards I wasn't big enough for the line of scrimmage, and anyway, we were moving upfield, on third down and with the play called I was supposed to run a hook pattern. The ball was snapped, I ran, I caught the ball and Baxter tackled me, hard. Hard enough to break three ribs, I barely managed graduation, and God knows how I made it through the final flight medical. I guess the Doc must have felt sorry for me, but that sonofabitch damn near ended my flying career before it even began."

"Wow, flyboy! And you can be alright with him being around here?" Mac demanded in a voice of concern.

"Well, the less I have to do with him, the better, as far as I'm concerned. I'm not going to hide from the SOB, but I certainly shan't be seeking out his company either!"

"And I suppose that because he's defending Lindsey that won't cut him very much slack with you, either?"

Harm shrugged, "I don't see how that affects our situation," he said dismissively.

Mac stepped in through the doorway, closed the door behind her and ignoring for the moment Harm's eyebrow raised in surprise at her breach of protocol, she took a seat in one of the two visitors' chairs, "That would be fine, if that would be as far as things went between you," Mac observed in a judicial manner, "but what happens if he really goes after Loren on the stand. He might, you know, especially if he's still feels the same way about you as he did at Annapolis, and let's face it, now Loren has changed her name to yours, it would be an easy way for him to score off you. And as I recall, the beginning of the Singer/Lindsey relationship," she used her fingers to indicate quotation marks, "doesn't exactly show her in the best of lights, does it?"

Harm pushed his chair away from his desk and regarded Mac moodily across the distance that separated them, "You just had to go and say that, didn't you?" He complained bitterly, "and that at just about the time I've managed to convince myself that that wouldn't happen. If it does," he took a deep breath and exhaled noisily, "then Loren and I will just have to deal with it. In the meantime, a word to the wise with the lovely Babs might just tip her off that Baxter may have his own, private agenda."

"Well, take it easy on your approach, and let's hope you trap the three wire. And always remember if the dill pickles I'll have your back."

Harm relaxed slightly and even managed a low wattage version of his grin, "I know you will Mac, just like you had my back scores of times before."

"Hell, flyboy, you make it sound that you never saved my six a time or two!" Mac smiled.

Harm sat back and studied his partner in silence for a few seconds, "Yeah, but that's just what we do, that's who we are…" He shrugged again.

"Oh no, flyboy, you can't go charging headlong into ridiculously dangerous situations any more. You've got a pregnant wife at home, and your first duty is to her and your child. Besides – and I know you hate me saying this – I am a Marine you know, and we have been known to get out of tricky situations by our little green selves." Mac smiled, hoping that despite the light-hearted nature of the second half of her little speech that Harm would heed the honest and sincerely meant warning in the first half.

It seemed a silent prayer for understanding had been heard and answered, instead of pokering up as he might so easily have done, and as he had done so many times in the past, Harm merely grinned at her and said, "Well, if I was still so inclined, our most recent adventure might it just have blunted my ambitions. How are your LSO files coming on?"

Mac sighed, "Pretty damn good, but only thanks to Loren. She must have gone through at least a dozen files for me. How about you?"

"Again, like you pretty damn good, but then again I have the added advantage of having Jen to help me as well. If we can keep up last week's average, we might even be clear by the end of next week. That is of course, I don't get hit by an out of town investigation, or another major case in the interim. Speaking of which, you still on for fourteen hundred?"

"Damn straight! Don't you even think of weaseling out now, flyboy!"

"I wouldn't dream of it, Jarhead!" Harm smiled easily.

"Good," Mac said, getting to her feet and smoothing the creases on the front of her skirt, so you at fourteen hundred and the Admiral's office."

Harm chuckled briefly, "you make it sound like a date not to be missed," he observed mildly.

**lxviii-lxviii-lxviii-lxviii-lxviii**

"So, what did the Admiral say?" Loren chuckled.

Harm judged the gap between a Ford one fifty and a USPS van and with a stab of his toe he sent the Lexus through it, "He was pretty crusty about it, but it wasn't all our fault. Apparently Babs Saunders hit the Pentagon first thing this morning and arrested Lindsey at his desk; trouble is, SECNAV was away at a meeting and Saunders didn't have the common sense to wait for his return, so when he did get back to his desk he was met with a report JAG had just arrested his senior uniformed legal advisor, without notifying him in advance. Then this new TAD, Baxter, arrived to act as Lindsey's defence counsel and again I don't know what was said between them but even after lunch when Mac and I went to see him he was pretty much flank speed on the grouch drive. Then, when we told him what we had in mind he... ah... didn't take it too well. At first I thought he was going to have a stroke, right on the spot, and from the look on her face I'm pretty sure that Mac thought exactly the same."

Loren shook her head, "But he signed off on it, in the end?"

"Yeah, but only after he'd called the convening authority and got personal reassurance from that end that the agreement was legitimate, although…"

"Although what?" Loren queried.

"Nothing," Harm replied, shortly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the bridling look of suspicion that Loren shot across the width of the vehicle at him, but there was no way he was about to tell her that the key element in changing the Admiral's mind had been Mac's comment that a trial, that would necessarily involve Master Gunnery Sergeant James's wife and two surviving daughters, would also necessarily involve the showing of, and discussion of, the revolting pictorial evidence of what had happened to his youngest child.

Loren saw, and almost felt, the shutters come crashing down and realising that any further attempt at questioning Harm would only fortify those shutters she wisely chose to remain silent for the remainder of the short trip to Annandale road.

By the time they arrived at their destination, Harm had regained some, if not all, of his good humour, and cheerfully helped Loren to unload her latest cargo of infant necessities. So they were both fairly well loaded down with briefcases, covers and shopping and Harm was in that most ridiculous of postures, standing on one leg, supporting an arm full of shopping on his other thigh, while digging for his house keys in his pocket when a loud and cheerful, "Oh, Mister Rabb, Mrs Rabb…" reached his ears.

"Oh, hell!" Harm muttered bitterly as he finally succeeded in slotting the key into the keyhole, "Mrs Grayling, good afternoon, what can we do for you?" He managed to back-heel the door open, and twisting from his hips deposit his briefcase and armful of shopping on the Hall table just inside the door. He turned to look fully at his neighbour only to have his jaw drop open in surprise her arms were wrapped around a huge Brown paper covered parcel, which almost completely concealed her from the middle of her face down to her ankles. Hurriedly stepping forward, he said, "let me take that for you, Mrs Grayling."

"Oh please do, Mister Rabb, it's for that darling little girl of yours, it arrived by special messenger, just before lunch!"

Harm took the parcel from Mrs Grayling, and eventually, the old lady, red-faced with pleasure and embarrassment, and overwhelmed by his profuse thanks retreated to her own house diagonally across the street.

Harm and Loren stood in the Hall and gazed on the parcel, which stood just over five foot high by two and a half feet square. Harm looked quizzically at Loren, "were you expecting something? He asked.

"No… Not particularly… Unless, and it is addressed to Miss Alexandra Rabb, it's from David…"

"Well there's only one way to tell," Harm suggested pointedly. Loren nodded and waited while Harm dived into the kitchen to return with a box cutter from the utility drawer.

The sharp blade made short work of the wrapping and in less than five minutes the two of them stood ankle-deep in the wrapping paper and sticky tape gazing on a five-feet tall teddy bear dressed in US Navy flight overalls, complete with a plastic aviator' s helmet which bore the call-sign 'Tuna Bear'. It was such a ridiculous sight that the two of them almost collapsed onto the two spare dining chairs that lived in the hall. And it was there that Jen found them, still helpless with laughter when she arrived home, some ten minutes later.


	69. Bears and Bugbears

**69**

**Bears and Bugbears**

For the few seconds that Harm and Loren were unaware of her presence, Jen stood, open-mouthed, not knowing where to look, at the two helplessly laughing – no, she thought, not laughing, but giggling – officers or at the preposterous teddy bear that stood propped against the wall, surrounded by a sea of brown paper and torn-off packing tape, which for some totally unknown reason put Jen in mind of Botticelli's painting The Birth of Aphrodite, which was almost enough to set her laughing.

Fighting down that urge to giggle, Jen slowly shook her head, "Do I detect the fine hand of Lieutenant Medwick here?"

Harm took a deep breath, and fishing his handkerchief from his pocket he blotted his streaming eyes before handing it to Loren. "What makes… you think… that?" He asked.

Jen hung her cover on one of the row of pegs just inside the door, and placed her briefcase on the floor underneath it before she answered, "It's just the crazy sort of thing that only a naval aviator would think of, and I can only think of two naval aviators who know this address, that's Keeter and David, and the call-sign kinda gives it away, don't you think?"

Loren had regained some kind of self control by now, "Yeah, it was David. Preposterous, outrageous even, and totally over the top. For God's sakes, look at it, Sasha is going to be twelve years old before she'll even be able to look it in the face!"

Jen nodded sagely as she listened to Loren's mini-rant, than she stepped up to the bear and pretended to give it a close inspection before she said judiciously, "Yeah, preposterous, outrageous, over the top and incredibly sweet and loving."

Loren looked at Jen as if she had just announced her arrival from another planet, and then a slight furrow appeared between her brows, which in turn smoothed out to be replaced by a gentle, thoughtful smile, "Yeah, very sweet…." she murmured as she got to her feet, and gave the bear another long look, and then turned Harm, "Would you mind bringing it…?"

Harm, who had watched in fascination the rapid sequence of Loren's facial expressions, carefully avoided eye contact with his wife, and replied "Of course. But don't you lift a finger!" He added to Jen, indicating the mess on the floor, "I'll deal with that as soon as I've finished bearing the bearden!" He was unable to resist the awful pun.

The bear, and most of Loren's shopping, "Oh, leave that bag here, please," transferred to the ranch-house, Harm quickly gathered up the torn wrapping, and then he and Jen quickly showered, and changed into lounging clothes. Their return to the first floor coinciding, almost to the second with the arrival of Loren and Sasha at the kitchen door. Loren lost no time in handing off recently fed bathed and changed daughter to a delighted Jen who promptly retired to the lounge, while Loren chivvied Harm out of the kitchen, bidding him to make a start on the briefcase full of folders that he had snagged from the office, claiming it was time and past time that they let her feed them for a change.

In a surprisingly short time, Loren summoned Jen and Harm to the table, "What is it?" Loren repeated Harm's question, "It's a selection of different types of mushroom in a basic carbonara sauce, served over farfalle… And I'm sure I don't need to identify the salad and the baguette for you?" She finished sardonically.

"No, ma'am, certainly not," Harm said obediently as he loaded his fork.

Thirty seconds or so later, he swallowed, and looked up into Loren's somewhat anxious face, "Don't look so worried, this is good, very good."

"M'mm, and he's right!" Jen added, "you'll have to let me in on the recipe."

Loren took a sip of grape juice, "it's quite simple really, Jen. Just very quickly sauté the mushrooms and onions with a little garlic, add the carbonara sauce and simmer while the pasta's is cooking, and serve."

Jen nodded, "Seems simple enough, and definitely very tasty!"

With Sasha dozing contentedly in her porta-crib it took very little time for the three adults to finish eating, clear the kitchen and load the dishwasher. Jen put on a fresh brew of coffee before all three, Loren carrying Sasha in her porta-crib, adjourned to the den to tackle the Sisyphean task embodied in the LSO file overspill.

They were recalled to a sense of time when Sasha decided that it was time she reminded her mommy of her existence. Harm stretched and rolled his head, easing the muscles that had tensed while he was working, while Jen stood and put her hands in the small of her back and groaned softly, before asking Loren, "do you want a hand with Sasha?"

Loren smiled her thanks but shook her head, "No, no thanks, Jen. She she doesn't smell, and although she might be damp, it's time for her feed, and…" the blonde grinned wickedly, "you ain't quite at the stage where you can do that, yet!"

Jen grinned in acknowledgement of Loren's quip, "Going to get you for that!" she warned.

Harm laughed, "Good luck with that, sweetheart, for the moment I reckon Loren is a mite faster on her feet!"

Jen glared at her undutiful husband, "Hey! You're supposed to be on my side! And anyway, my lack of speed is only temporarily – and I've got a very long memory! Both of you just might want to consider that," she sniffed with an assumed air of offended dignity.

"Yeah, and my hope for forgiveness is based on the fact that your excellent memory, recalls just how very much I love you," Harm said softly, as Loren paused in the act of checking Sasha, and smiled approvingly, but in some amazement. Who would have thought, she asked herself, even so short while ago as six months, that the original Mister Stone-Face, would not only be able to say something like that so naturally, but quite openly in front of witnesses.

Harm's declaration also totally disarmed Jen, "Oh… how can I pretend to be mad at you, when you say such sweet things! It's not fair!" She smiled mistily at him.

Loren decided that her absence would be more appreciated than her presence, and so with a soft, and unheard "Good night," she picked up her daughter and quietly slipped out of the den, and through the kitchen to the back door.

"Mrs Rabb, did I see you rubbing your back a moment or two ago?" Harm asked as he stepped closer to Jen.

"Uh-huh," Jen admitted, as she stepped into his arms, and rested her head against his chest.

Harm rested his chin on top of Jen's head, and whispered, "So… Why don't you go and run and nice warm bath, while I secure down here, and then when I've done that, I'll come and I'll see what I can do about that backache… Like, maybe a nice, gentle, rub?"

"M'mm... sounds like a plan," Jen smiled.

**lxix-lxix-lxix-lxix-lxix**

Harm watched Jen's Sebring turn left on Annandale Road, heading for Gallows Road, and the Columbia Pike for the Pentagon, before he fired up the Lexus' engine, and moving off, turned right in the direction of Falls Church.

Loren smiled at this latest manifestation of Harm's protective instinct, but contented herself with a simple question, "How's Jen getting on with her new car?"

"Just great, thanks. Mind you, she's only used it for commuting so far, but we might be taking a short road-trip in it this weekend. Nothing too drastic, maybe just out to Virginia Beach for the day… And," Harm grinned in anticipation as he was about to use Loren's words right back at her, "how's Sasha getting on with her new teddy bear?"

Loren let loose a crow of laughter, "She's absolutely fascinated by it! When I went into wake her this morning, she was already wide awake and her eyes were glued to it. And it was like that after I'd bathed her and was trying to get her dressed, no matter which way I'd turned her, her head turned so she could keep damned bear in view! I swear that it wasn't for safety's sake, I could do away with a sitter, and just plonk her down in front of that bear, go to work, secure, come home and she'd be right where I left her!"

Harm grinned, "So, Tuna got it right, hey?"

"Yeah, the boy done good," Loren said non-committally, but then smiled, her eyes seemingly losing focus for a few seconds.

Harm smiled in apparent agreement, but kept his thoughts to himself.

**lxix-lxix-lxix-lxix-lxix**

Harm reached out and picked up the telephone, cutting it off in mid-ring, "Rabb," he identified himself.

"_It's Tiner, Sir, the Admiral wants to see you right away, Sir_."

"On my way, Tiner," Harm knew there was no point in asking Tiner if he knew what the Admiral wanted, even if the Yeoman did know that, he knew better than to divulge his chief's intentions unless specifically told to. And if he'd been told to, then he would have done so when passing the word.

Halfway across the bullpen, Harm was joined by Mac, "You too?" she queried.

"Yeah, could be our blaze of glory, Sundance," he grinned.

"Why? You got a guilty conscience?" Mac asked teasingly.

Harm got away without answering only because they were already at the doorway to Tiner's ante-office. "The Admiral said to go straight in, Sir, ma'am," Tiner advised them.

"Shall we?" Mac asked.

"Let's," Harm riposted, and raising his fist he looked twice on the door-jamb, and on receiving the shouted invitation to enter, he opened the door and stood back to allow Mac to enter first.

"Lieutenant Colonel Mackenzie and Commander Rabb, reporting as ordered, Sir!" Mac snapped as soon as they halted in front of the big desk.

"Stand easy, at ease," Chegwidden growled, "You know Agent Fornell. And as you managed to get yourselves mixed up in the whole unsavoury affair, you might as well hear what happened next, so take a seat."

Admiral and agent waited until Harm and Mac had seated themselves in the accustomed wing chairs in front of the desk. Once they seem to have settled, Fornell cocked an eyebrow at the Admiral, who had lent back in his chair, and his elbows supported by his ribs had steepled his fingers so they just touched the very tip of his chin.

Receiving Chegwidden's signal that he might begin, Fornell directors gaze at the two officers, "As I told the Admiral the other day, Master Gunnery Sergeant James is the only suspect from DoN, the other sources, which we traced through manufacturers' serial numbers, were all Army and Air Force." Fornell drew a breath before he continued, "Thanks to Jester, who as you know is an employee of The Company, and his quick thinking we were able to use Kozlowski's cell phone to track down, identify and arrest his contact inside The Company. The individual concerned, confessed that he did what he did for the money, Kozlowski apparently paid him more in three months, then he could have earned in two years."

Harm and Mac looked at each other in shared disgust, "A traitor is always a traitor," Mac said bitterly, "but somehow, it would be… less… loathsome if, just for once, their motivation was ideological rather than just… greed."

Harm contented himself with a grunt, that may, or may not, have signified his agreement with Mac's opinion.

"If you have quite finished editorialising, Colonel, Commander," Chegwidden said dryly, "then I am sure that Agent Fornell's next bit of news will be of some interest to you both."

"Thank you, Admiral," Fornell said in a tone, which caused Harm to look at him sharply, suspecting irony, but there seemed to be nothing but sincerity in the agent's face.

"I understand, from your remarks on the night, Commander, that you were desirous of kicking Webb's ass. It looks like you're going to have to put that on hold, _sine die_. Apparently, despite their best efforts, and hours of surgery, the doctors were unable to save Webb's leg, and were forced to amputate it at mid-thigh. Which probably means that he will be unable to use a prosthetic, and will probably have to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair."

Both Harm and Mac looked faintly nauseous. Webb had ceased to be one of their favourite people some time ago, and while neither would have missed never being contacted by him again, they certainly didn't wish that degree of injury on him.

A J Chegwidden observed their reaction, he was no great fan of Clayton Webb either, and had taken immense satisfaction from breaking his nose that time in Russia, and he had already resolved to cut, if not severely limit future contact between JAG and the CIA. Since hearing Rabb's list of complaints about Webb, the Admiral had done some thinking, and had come to the conclusion that while perhaps Rabb had let his indignation run away with him, there had been enough truth in his comments for the Admiral to take them seriously. Nevertheless, even though Webb's injury arose partly from his own incompetence and/or his selfish ambition and unwillingness to share credit, the Admiral too would not have wished such an injury on the spy.

Giving his head a slight shake, the Admiral looked at Fornell, "Anything else for these two, agent?"

"Nope, that just about covers it. All we are waiting for now, is the James' court-martial."

Harm raised his head as if to interrupt, but caught the Admiral's warning shake of his head just in time and subsided back into his chair.

The former Seal glared at his subordinates, "Very well, Colonel, Commander, I know you have plenty to keep yourself occupied, dismissed."

Harm and Mac instantly rose their feet, came to attention and chorused "Aye, aye, Sir!", Before turning and exiting the office, Harm once again holding open the door for Mac.

Once in the bullpen, Mac looked up at Harm, "Galley, now," she muttered just loud enough for him to hear. Harm quirked an eyebrow, but made no demur and followed Mac's lead. Once in the galley, Mac busy herself with coffee, filter, and water and once she had set the machines cycle going, she leaned back against the worktop, folded her arms and looked searchingly at Harm.

"Well?" She demanded.

"Well, what?" Harm riposted.

"I saw your expression when Fornell said that Webb had lost a leg and would be wheelchair-bound."

"What was wrong with my expression?" Harm hedged.

"I've seen you look less sceptical, going after lying witness!" Mac accused him.

"Well, you can hardly blame me this time around. Webb isn't exactly a model of probity, or are you forgetting Lieutenant Abbey Cowen? You shouldn't, it was you that saw through that deception!"

"You really think somebody might be lying about his condition?" Mac frowned.

"Mac, we're talking about the CIA here, they might as well call themselves 'Lies R Us'."

Mac poured two mugs of coffee and handed one to Harm, "Yeah, you do have a point…" She conceded, speaking slowly.

Harm took a sip of his coffee, and winced, but seeing the combative gleam in Mac's eye managed to refrain from complaining. "I do have one thing to say though Mac," he said.

"And that is?"

Harm plastered a shit eating grin on his face, and Mac new that somehow or other he had just set her up. "Go on," she said resignedly.

"The Admiral was right, I do have enough on my desk to keep me busy. So, thanks for this," he saluted her with his mug of coffee, "but as much as I'd like to stay and engage in idle chitchat, I do have work to do."

Mac's shoulders slumped an inch or so she recalled the work waiting for her on her desk, "Damn, I hate it when you're right!" She mock-complained.

Harm nodded and bearing away his coffee mug as if it was some sort of trophy, he returned to his own office and sourly contemplated the stack of files in his in tray. With a sigh, he put his coffee to one side and reached for the top file of the stack.

**lxix-lxix-lxix-lxix-lxix**

It was nearly twenty minutes later that Harm finished making notes on a legal pad, tore off the top sheet and Inserted it it into the file. Then, remembering his coffee he reached for it, and as soon as his hand closed on the mug he pulled a face as the touch told him that the Contents were now undrinkably cold.

For a moment or two he debated whether or not to make the trip to the galley and for a fresh cup, but in the end, after a glance at his watch, he decided that he could wait until lunchtime.

Bud Roberts, shook his head in disbelief as the court room door closed behind him. With a grudgingly respectful expression on his face, he turned to Loren, "I have no idea what just happened in there," he said in a puzzled voice, "Robinson should have been found guilty, and been sentenced accordingly. I don't think I'll ever know how you swayed that panel, you must have been taking lessons from the Commander!"

Loren looked up at him, her expression reflecting mild amusement and satisfaction, "Hey, when I'm good, I'm good!"

Bud looked at her again, that was a sort of remark anybody who knew Loren Singer might have expected, what they wouldn't have expected was the different intonation. Today there had been a joking, even teasing tone in her voice, whereas before she would have been deadly serious and stalked off. Even that was different. These days she was quite content, win or lose, to walk alongside opposing counsel on her way from court room to office.

"And you were good, today!"

"Thank you, Bud, but that's not going to get you out of fixing the coffee!"

"It will be my pleasure, Loren," Bud replied. And that was another thing, he noted, he was now 'Bud' rather than 'Lieutenant' or 'Roberts'. "Creamer and sugar, isn't it?" He asked as he proceeded her into the galley.

"Just creamer, thank you Bud. I've still got a couple of baby pounds to lose," she confided.

Bud grinned, he wasn't falling for _that_ one. He might, in some people's opinion be a bit of a bumbler, but he could learn from experience, and he had experienced some spectacular domestic fireworks when he had replied comfortingly, or so he'd thought, to a similar comment made by Harriet, so on this occasion he merely grinned, "your coffee!"

Harm was immersed in the file now in front of him, and gave a snort of annoyance as his concentration was broken by the shrill ringing of his phone. "Rabb,"

"_Anthony Heywood here, Commander._"

For a second Harm had to think, the way the caller had introduced himself told Harm that evidently he was expected to recognise the name. Fortunately his memory functioned just before a lengthening pause would have been impolite, "what can I do for you, Mister Heywood?"

"_I have just had a call from a Miss Gale at Langley. The Company are releasing Gloria to the…the… the funeral home, today. It will be a small, private, graveside ceremony at two pm, on Friday at Ivy Hill Cemetery, Alexandria. It will mostly be family, and a couple of close friends, but I think that Gloria would take it kindly, if you, and your family could be there. And I think I'd like it too._"

"We'll be there, Mister Heywood. I know Jen wants to say goodbye to Gloria, as does Loren, and I will never be able to pay sufficient respect to her memory."

"_Thank you for that, Commander. I shall see you on Friday_."

"That you will, Sir, that you will. Until Friday."

Harm broke the connection and immediately dialled Jen's number, and impatiently drummed his fingers on the desktop while he waited for her to pick up.

"_SECNAV's legal office, Legalman One Rabb speaking, Sir._"

"Hey sweetheart, it's me. Just a quick call to say that you need to take a personal day on Friday."

_"Hey yourself_," Jen said softly, and Harm could hear the smile in her voice, "_What's with Friday_?"

"I've just had Anthony Heywood on the phone, with the details for Gloria's funeral… I said we'd both be going, I'm hoping that Loren will want to go too."

"_Of course we're all going_!" Jen declared, "_I know Loren will want to go_."

"Good, don't forget to speak with Commander Manetti, ASAP!"

"_I won't. I love you, but I'd better go now…_"

"I love you too," Harm replied.

He waited for the click that told him that the call had finished, and with a sigh he hauled himself to his feet and squaring his shoulders headed out across the bullpen towards the Admiral's office, to request Friday as a personal day.

**lxix-lxix-lxix-lxix-lxix**

Harm managed a grin in Tiner's direction as he quit the Admiral's office. That hadn't been too bad, he mused, although it could have gone better. The Old Man hadn't been too inclined to grant Harm a personal day at such short notice, but had relented once Harm had explained the reason for his request, and before Harm had a chance to mention her the Admiral had said, "I suppose that Lieutenant Rabb would also wish to attend, you can tell her that unless she has a court date, she may take the day."

"Aye, aye, Sir… And thank you Sir!"

Chegwidden pretended to return his attention to the open folder on his desk, "Well go on, you've wasted enough of my time already this morning," he said gruffly and waited until Harm had left the office, before he settled back in his chair, his fingers steepled at his chin, to do some serious thinking.

**lxix-lxix-lxix-lxix-lxix**

Harm paused at the entrance to the bullpen, his eye caught by two blonde heads at Harriet Sims' desk.

"Good morning, Lieutenants – no, as you were," he interrupted himself as Lieutenant Pearson started to scramble to her feet, "that was a Commander Baxter yesterday afternoon, wasn't it, Lieutenant?" He asked Harriet.

"Yes, Sir, do you know him?"

"We've met," Harm replied dryly. "What did he want, I thought he was here for the Lindsey case?"

"Oh, he is, Sir." Harriet answered.

Harm raised an eyebrow, "What have you done with him, then? I thought you'd shoe-horned Commander Saunders into the last available office space, or have you cleared out another storage closet?"

Harriet grinned, "No, Sir. I called in a couple of favours and Captain Donovan agreed that he could have one of her spare offices downstairs."

Harm grinned, in genuine admiration of Harriet's organisational skills, and her ability to get things done, even if she had to use unofficial channels, but "And just what did you have on Captain Donovan, that she agreed to this arrangement?"

Harriet laughed merrily, "Well, I could tell you, Sir, but…"

Harm smiled again, "But if you did, you'd have to kill me, right?"

Harriet dimpled, "Well, that's a thought, Sir, but what I was going to say was that I could tell you but I have a feeling that you _really_ don't want to know!"

Harm pretended alarm, "Oh, if that's the case, then you're probably right! But, Bravo Zulu, anyway," and with a nod to both Harriet and Jo, he sauntered back towards his own office and the still formidable stack of files, but then, remembering, he veered off, making for Loren's office.

Tapping on the door, he waited until she looked up, a smile creasing her face as she saw him in the doorway. "How did it go this morning?"

Loren's smile broadened into a huge grin, "I… I believe the appropriate answer to that question Commander is quote I wiped the floor with his butt unquote," she answered mischievously.

Harm started in surprise, from what he knew of the case, Bud should have won, it hadn't quite looked like a slam dunk but the evidence was certainly stacked in the prosecution's favour. "Wow! Definite congratulations then, how did you do it?"

Loren eased back in her chair, "Oh, I just followed the evidence, found another couple of witnesses that weren't on the prosecution list, and surprise surprise, they came up with an alibi, that put my client exactly where he said he was, at the time of the robbery. In other words, seven miles away, at Bowl America on Edsall road."

"So how come this came to trial, if he had an alibi?" Harm asked as he slid into one of Loren's visitors chairs.

"Forensics. Prosecution had fingerprints, and DNA from epithelial cells, placing my client at the scene of the crime, something he never denied, just that it wasn't at the time of the crime. His aunt lives a couple of blocks from the store, and he is an occasional visitor there and runs errands for her from time to time, so he would have been vaguely familiar to the staff and when they saw him a line-up, they conflated his trips to the store, with the trip the perp made."

Harm shook his head, "Another poorly investigated rush to judgement," was his comment. "How did this get past the Article Thirty-Two?"

"Because at the time, I hadn't tracked down the two witnesses from Bowl America, and all I had was my client's claim that was where he was."

Harm nodded, he was all too well aware of just how difficult it could be tracking down civilian witnesses. "And how did Bud take it?"

Loren giggled, "Pretty well, he did make the coffee afterwards, although for a while he was wearing his 'officially stunned' look."

Harm couldn't help his own answering grin, but then sobered, "That's a pretty impressive win, given the prosecution's evidence, but that's not really the reason I called in. Gloria's funeral is on Friday afternoon, and I cleared it with the Admiral that we can have a personal day to attend. That is of course, if you want to attend."

All vestiges of amusement fled Loren's face, "Of course I want to go, Gloria helped save our lives, and took a bullet that otherwise would have been mine or Jen's. If we'd all survived I'd like to think that we could have become friends. Of course I will go and say goodbye."

Harm stood, careful not to notice the moisture in Loren's eyes, or the constricted quality of her voice as she spoke. He nodded soberly, and said, "I never doubted that you would go, which is why I mentioned your name to the Admiral," and then with a nod, and a quiet "later," he eased himself out of Loren's office and headed back to his own desk.

By lunchtime, Harm was satisfied that he had made enough progress to be able to earmark tomorrow for his much postponed trip to Norfolk. He grimaced at the thought, and was honest enough to admit to himself that part of the reason for him dragging his heels was the necessity of having to spend the night away from Jen. Still, it was bound to happen at some stage, and at least, with any luck this will only be the one night. Still feeling unsettled by the prospect, he glanced at the office clock and made a command decision that it was lunchtime. A quick check around the bullpen and offices, revealed he was the last attorney on the floor. Making a mental note to stop spending quite so much time wool-gathering, he grinned ruefully and made his way to the cafeteria.

The ten minutes he spent standing in line selecting and then paying for his meal gave him ample opportunity to scan the seating area, where a cluster of four blonde heads, admittedly all of different shades, identified the table occupied by Carolyn Imes, Harriet Sims, Jo Pearson and Loren. Harm managed a self-deprecating grin, there was no way he was ever going to be brave enough to join those four while they were all together. Another glance around the seating area showed Mac, sharing a table with Bud and Barbara Saunders, now that was more like it, he thought, and pocketing his change and picking up his tray he eased his way across the floor, and with a "Mind if I join you?" He hooked the vacant chair away from the table and slid into it, placing his tray in front of him.

The conversation at the table was pretty general, with all parties avoiding the subject of Commander Lindsey, no one wanting to present even the slightest hint of impropriety, or collusion. In fact, once Bud had let slip a Start Trek reference which was pounced upon by Barbara Saunders, it turned out that she too was a Trekker, and the table quickly divided into two halves, with Harm and Mac teasing Barbara and Bud, while they vehemently defended their favourite TV franchise.

The noise and laughter they generated was noticed by others, one of whose number was Commander Baxter. Finishing his meal, he stacked his tray away, but made a detour on his way to the exit, so that he passed the table where Bud was defending the papier mache scenery and the intrusively obvious special effects of the original series.

Bud's voice tailed off into silence as they all became aware of the looming presence just behind Harm's left shoulder. "Well, well, well, Star Trek. Such an intellectual conversation," Baxter sneered patronisingly, "I'd heard you'd washed out as a pilot, Rabb. So it's hardly surprising to find out that you're a devotee of a third rate children's TV programme." And then with a further patronising, "Ladies," the burly African American officer swaggered away.

Mac and Bud both cast a worried look at Harm, "Sir, you're not letting him get away with that, surely?" Bud demanded.

"What… What was all that about? What just happened here?" Babs asked.

"Are you alright, Harm?" Mac asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harm answered Mac as he lay down his knife and fork, and turning to Babs, he mustered a convincing facsimile of his trademark grin, "Nothing to worry about, just ancient history." He assured her.

Mac and Bud exchanged a further worried look, neither of them deceived by the falseness of his smile, while Babs Saunders took a long look at Harm, before twisting in her chair to look at the still-swinging doors through which Baxter had disappeared.


	70. Leaving on a Jet Plane?

**70**

**Leaving on a Jet Plane?**

Bud was more than just vaguely troubled by the events he had witnessed at lunchtime, and he sat behind his desk in his office for about twenty-five minutes, before he came to a decision, a frown creasing his normally placid forehead he heaved himself to his feet, and headed out across the bullpen in the direction of Mac's office.

Mac had attempted to address her own concerns with Harm, only to be smilingly rebuffed, with an assurance that "I'll handle it, Mac. And no, I am not going to let Baxter provoke me into doing anything stupid. That was always his MO, even back in the Academy, and I admit he got me going a couple of times, and I ended up walking punishment tours. I'm older now, and I like to think I'm wiser, he is not going to get a rise out of me this time around."

Harm grinned, "In fact, the calmer I stay the more likely_ he_ is to do something stupid. I never did figure him to have a bunch of smarts, and I admit I'm surprised he made it through LSATs and into law school, let alone graduating law school and then passing a bar exam!"

Mac sent a warning look in Harm's direction, "Well, he obviously managed all those things, so don't make his basic dumb mistake of underestimating him. And for God's sakes, do not take any direct action. If he keeps getting in your face, and it starts to affect the running of this office, then I will deal with him as Chief of Staff. Got it, flyboy?"

Harm grinned again, "Like I said, Mac, I'll deal with it." And with a nod Harm turned aside and headed for his own office. Leaving Mac gazing after him with an expression of concern on her face. She had to accept the assurance he'd just given her, but that didn't mean that she had to like it.

Now, as the knock came at her door, she looked up from the report she was half-way through drafting. Her half-frown disappearing as she saw who her visitor was. "Bud, what can I do for you?"

"Umm... Do you have a couple of minutes ma'am?"

"For you, Bud, of course. Come on in, and take the weight off."

Bud stepped into the office, and as he did so, and much to Mac's surprise, closing the door behind him before gesturing in the direction of the visitors chairs.

"Yes, go ahead… What's all this about, Bud?" she asked, intrigued by his behaviour.

Bud fidgeted in the chair for a few seconds as if he was trying to get comfortable, an habitual manoeuvre Mac recognised as one he employed while he put his thoughts in order. "This Commander Baxter, ma'am… It seems he knows, and doesn't much like Commander Rabb. He was pretty damn rude in the cafeteria earlier, and for a second or two, I was afraid that the Commander – Commander Rabb that is – was going to punch him out right there and then. I mean… the look on his face ma'am, I haven't seen the Commander look at anybody like that, since he and Commander Brum… Oh! I'm sorry, ma'am, I didn't... I don't... I mean... Well, ma'am, it can be easy for you… I mean it... hearing that name again and…"

"Calm down, Bud, please. Shall we just say that my involvement with Commander Brumby wasn't exactly my finest hour, and although I don't particularly like being reminded of it, or him, his name is bound to come up from time to time. And when it does, I just have to suck it up. But, yes, I agree there's absolutely no love lost between Commander Rabb and this Commander Baxter and I think it goes right back for years. I will keep an eye on Commander Baxter, and if he steps out of line, then I shall come down on him like a ton of bricks. Unless and until I have to act officially, then we'll just have to hope that Commander Rabb continues to keep a tight rein on his temper. The last thing he needs is to get into a brawl, not just here at JAG, but anywhere." Mac shook her head gently as she contemplated what the fallout of such an occurrence could be, "The Admiral, would skin him alive, and then set what was left of him to chipping rust of garbage scows in Adak! As his friends, Bud, I guess in the short-term, we will have to run interference for him, and bless Harriet for putting Baxter in an office downstairs. That should minimise casual encounters between them!"

Bud nodded solemnly, "Sounds like a plan, as far as it goes, ma'am, but in the interim, isn't there anything else we can do?"

Mac shook her head, the corners of her mouth pulled down in a grimace of distaste and frustration, "Without filing charges against someone, there really isn't much more we can do. But, believe you me, if I have to speak to Commander Baxter, I will make sure he understands that will be his first and last warning. And any further repetition of his offensive behaviour, will result in him facing charges. And as I said, we can only hope and pray that Commander Rabb doesn't let himself be provoked into doing something foolish."

Bud sighed, and gave a slight shake of his head, "If that's all that we have, ma'am, I can foresee a bumpy couple of weeks ahead of us!"

"I do hope not Bud, I do hope not," Mac said but on a pessimistic note.

**lxx-lxx-lxx-lxx-lxx**

Barbara Saunders leaned back in her chair, her head supported by the hands clasped behind it, her legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. She had been taken slightly aback by the scene in the cafeteria, but wasn't particularly perturbed about it, or even concerned other than that it bespoke of a certain, abnormal, degree of arrogance on the part of Commander Baxter. She didn't know the big African-American officer, they were stationed at opposite ends of the country, and until now their paths had never crossed. She had, of course been told that he would be defending Commander Lindsey, and had been trying to find somebody who knew him, to give her a clue as to how to handle him when she came face-to-face with him in court. It was positively careless of Baxter to sound off the way he did; apart from Rabb, he knew no one at the table, and probably had no idea that the Marine Lieutenant Colonel was not only Rabb's friend, his best friend she had been told up until the time he'd married, but she was also the JAG's Chief of Staff. Baxter had certainly done himself no favours there. Babs considered further, she and Baxter hadn't yet been introduced to each other, and the friendly tone of the lunchtime conversation at the table may have deceived him into thinking she was a long-term member of staff, and not opposing counsel

She nodded to herself, there must be some way she could turn Baxter's arrogance to her advantage. He certainly seemed to think that he could get under Rabb's skin… But maybe, just maybe, that was because other people got under his own skin so easily.

With that thought, a grin crossed Babs' face, and she sat forward in her chair, drawing her feet back towards her and reaching for a legal pad and pen.

**lxx-lxx-lxx-lxx-lxx**

Harm allowed himself a wry smile, as he put a completed LSO file in his out-tray, and reached for the next file from his in-tray, but he paused before opening it. Baxter had figured to belittle him in front of his friends, by sneering at his wings, and his apparent loss of flight status. Baxter however was either ignorant of the meaning of the ribbons that Harm wore below the wings, or had failed to notice them. Harm didn't usually big up his awards, but in this case they were silent witnesses refuting Baxter's poisonous words. The other factor in Harm's favour was that although he had previously changed designator twice, yet he was still the same rank as Baxter. Note to self, he thought, check Baxter's seniority date. Furthermore he was acknowledged as one of the top attorneys at JAG HQ, while Baxter was slowly petrifying at China Lake.

Mac's concern was touching, but at the same time quite amusing. For the moment Harm was quite content to let Baxter make a fool of himself, and enjoy the odd empty victory. However, Baxter was was going to receive a rather sharp wake-up call, in the not too distant future, probably in the few minutes before the Lindsey trial opened. As the old saying had it, don't get mad, get even.

In the meantime, of course, there was work to be done. Opening the file he studied the brief notes, Aviation Ordnanceman Woodman, Richard A, was being charged with dereliction of duty. In the final phase of operational conversion training, a division of four F-14s was tasked with a live fire ground attack mission, using laser guided training bombs. The airplane which Woodman loaded took off, and promptly shed one of the weapons from its starboard under-wing hard-point. A board of investigation determined that the weapon fell off the airplane because Woodman had failed to ensure that it was correctly loaded and secured. Woodman was now facing disciplinary charges, and had appealed the board's finding, insisting that the weapon had been stowed properly, and that the installation had been checked by the pilot, and the check-list had been signed by him certifying that all was in order. The SJA at Oceana had then forwarded the file to Falls Church.

Harm sat back and considered, all else being equal, the pilot's signature certifying that he had checked the aircraft and was happy with its condition, and the condition of all stores and weapons associated with it should have been enough to absolve Woodman. Unfortunately in this case, the pilot although qualified, was newly qualified and had not finished his training. Countering this was a nagging feeling that Woodman was being made a scapegoat; it had cost the Navy far less to train an aviation ordnanceman, than it had to train a Tomcat pilot.

So, that made tomorrow's schedule pretty straightforward. He would leave for Oceana first thing in the morning, overnight at Norfolk, and work through the two Norfolk and the one Portsmouth case before heading back to the DC area.

Decision made, he reached for the phone.

"_Yeoman One Tiner, Sir_."

"Tiner, this is Commander Rabb, get on to the motor pool, please, I need a car for straight after staff call tomorrow morning, I shall need it for two days while I investigate cases at Oceana and Norfolk. So try sweet talking your contact in the motor pool to try and make sure I get a decent runner. When you've done that, get onto the VOQ at Norfolk, I shall require accommodation tomorrow night, and possibly the night after. Got all that?"

"_Decent car for two days, ready for after staff call in the morning, and one, possibly two nights accommodation at Norfolk VOQ, aye, Sir!_"

"Good man, Tiner." Harm replaced the phone on its hook in the knowledge that the car would be ready on time, and that he would have somewhere to sleep tomorrow night. A slight frown creased forehead, the fact that he would be sleeping at Norfolk tomorrow, meant of course, that he wouldn't be sleeping with Jen.

Quitting his chair, he stuck his head out of his office door and squinted along the wall, good, Loren's office was open. He rolled his head on his shoulders to ease the tension in his neck, and strolled along to Loren's office where he rapped lightly on the door-frame and waited for her to acknowledge him.

Loren looked up and smiled, "what can I do for you Commander?" she asked.

"It's about tomorrow, Loren. I've got to go down to Oceana, Portsmouth and Norfolk. So I'm going to be out of the office the best part of two days, that being so, we'll need both cars in the morning. I'm quite willing to give you a ride into work, but if I do, it will leave you stuck here at the end of the day."

"Not a problem, it'll do the car good to have a little bit of a run." Loren looked at Harm shrewdly, "There's something else though, isn't there?" she inquired.

Harm coughed, and looked down at the carpet for a few seconds before he raised his eyes and said somewhat uncomfortably "Uh... Yeah, it's Jen… She's still a little upset about that whole Kozlovsky FUBAR, would you mind keeping her company tomorrow evening, and maybe even staying over? With somebody in the house to talk to, and especially with Sasha, it might make things a little easier for her… Stop her brooding "

Loren thought for a few seconds, "I don't know about staying over…" she demurred, "but… I could invite Harriet, and Jen, to my place we can have a girls night in… Try different make-ups, new colour nail polishes, trying new ways of fixing our hair… Pig out on chocolate…"

Harm shuddered, "that was way too much information, Loren. I really didn't need to know that, and I really didn't need some of those mental images you just conjured up for me!" he complained with a grin.

Loren looked at him with a half ironic, half pitying smile, "What are you going to do in some seven or eight years down the line, when your daughter has a sleepover with half a dozen or so of her school friends, all of them wanting chocolate, s'mores, and about three hundred different shades of lipstick, nail polish and make up!"

Harm shuddered at the thought, "Change my designator again, and go back to the fleet?" he offered hopefully.

"Oh yeah, I can really see Jen going whole bundle on that idea!" Loren laughed.

**lxx-lxx-lxx-lxx-lxx**

"So what do you think Jen," Loren asked as she and Jen sat in the lounge with Sasha, while Harm finished clearing up after dinner in the kitchen, "with Harm away tomorrow, we won't be working on any LSO files, so I've invited Harriet to the ranch-house, for a girls' night in. Nothing outrageous, just lots of chocolate, maybe s'mores, a chick flick or maybe two, and a good old-fashioned gab-fest. After all, it's been awhile since the MMAS got together and it gives Harriet a bit of a break from little AJ, I'm sure Bud can look after him for one evening!"

Jen gave Loren a quick glance, and then seeing what she was sure was the gleam of mischief in the blonde's eyes she did a double take, and gave her a longer, more searching look, that had more than just a hint of suspicion in it.

"MMAS?" Jen crinkled her nose.

"Yeah, the Mom's Mutual Aid Society!" Loren grinned.

Jen gave her friend a second, long, level look "Just what are you planning, Loren?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Loren countered with an assumed air of innocence.

"There's a gleam in your eyes, that I don't quite trust… So, come on, give. What have you got planned?" Jen asked with a grin.

"Oh, nothing much, no male strippers or anything like that, I swear!"

"Okay…" Jen said slowly, "but you've got something up that sleeve of yours!"

"Well, not really, but a couple of weeks ago I was clipping coupons… Yes, I know, I said I wouldn't do that, but there were some coupons there for two fifty off an economy sized pack of the diapers I get for Sasha. Anyway, while I was clipping these coupons, I saw another one, but this was for a sampler pack from a certain well-known cosmetics manufacturer, to introduce their new animal-friendly range of make-up. So I ordered it and then picked it up from the store the other day, I figure that you, Harriet and I could maybe have a little bit of fun, just experimenting with new looks." Jen's expression was still markedly sceptical, and Loren was moved to protest, "I swear, Jen, that's it! No strong liquors, not even any wine, Harriet has to drive home, and you can't… And if you two can't, then I won't want to. So no alcohol, no strippers, just how much trouble can we get into?"

Jen chuckled, "Okay, when you put it like that, how could I refuse?"

Loren grinned, "You can't really… Oops! Heads up!" she exclaimed as Harm turned off the kitchen light and ambled into the lounge.

He was brought up short in his tracks by the sight of two wide-eyed and just a shade too innocent faces turned towards him. "Alright," he says cautiously, "what gives?"

"Nothing at all," Jen prevaricated, her own eyes now dancing with laughter.

"H'mm, why am I not convinced by that?" Harm asked uneasily

"Harm, we just sitting here, quietly, waiting for you to finish up in the kitchen before we move to the den, just passing the time of day…" Loren grinned.

Harm threw them both a jaundiced look, "And that's supposed to make me feel better, how exactly?" And without waiting for a reply, he picked up Sasha's porta-crib, and smiled down at the baby, "at least there's one female in this household who doesn't feel the need to wind me up!"

It seemed to Harm, however, even Sasha looked at him dubiously before she blew a huge bubble that burst all over her mouth and chin, before she gurgled up at him. Harm reached for one of the packet of dry-wipes, tucked in to the side of the porta-crib, "Monster," he said softly as he wiped the drool from Sasha's face.

Loren and Jen watched his performance, and then turned and smiled at each other, although in Jen's case, the smile was a trifle damp and a trifle misty.

**lxx-lxx-lxx-lxx-lxx**

Jen rolled on to her side, and propped herself up on her elbow. With her free hand, she brushed some errant strands of hair from Harm's forehead, before bending and planting a gentle kiss on it.

In the gloom, Jen could just about make out Harm's drowsy smile as he looked up at her, "What was that for?" He murmured.

"Just… because…" Jen whispered.

"I hated it as a kid, when mom just said 'because' whenever I asked what or why, and I'm no fonder of that as an answer today as I was then!" Harm complained. And although Jen couldn't really see his expression, she just knew that he was pouting.

"Oh, in that case, it was because you, my darling husband, are going to be such a great dad when Alison Patricia arrives," Jen asserted, and punctuated the words with a kiss. Harm snaked a long arm out and looped it around Jen's shoulder, pulling her close as he deepened the kiss.

"Wow…" Jen breathed when the need for oxygen drove them apart, "and what was that for!?"

"Just… because…" Harm paused deliberately, and grinned as he felt Jen draw in a breath to scold him, "I happen to be head over heels in love, with a very beautiful, mischievous, adorable, eternally young woman, who just also happens to make me the happiest man alive, by being my wife!"

Jen wriggled free of Harm's clasp, and knelt upright on the bed, her hands going to the hem of her T-shirt, as she lifted it off over her head. Then, with a grin at Harm could hear in her voice, she complained, "You are wearing far too many clothes, Mister!"

Harm squinted down the length of his body, in the direction of the tank top and boxers that were all that he wore to bed, "Gee, yuh think?"

"Yup!" Jen cried in triumph.

**lxx-lxx-lxx-lxx-lxx**

Harm reached down and drew the comforter up over their perspiration-beaded bodies, and as he did so, turned on to his side to face Jen.

"That was…." he breathed.

"Yeah, it was," Jen interrupted with a gasp as she sought to recover her breath.

For long moments they lay grinning at each other, hands gently following the planes and contours of each other's face.

Harm blew out a long breath, "I really wish I didn't have to go down to Norfolk for the next couple of days..."

"Hey, it's Norfolk, and Oceana, it's not like you were flying out to the Seahawk, or the Patrick Henry, you'll be back in the day after tomorrow," Jen said softly, "and besides, I know you. You'll get down to Oceana, you'll smell the jet fuel, and you'll forget all about me and somehow or other, you'll find that there is a need for you to get airborne!" She said indulgently.

Harm shook his head in the darkness, "Not going to happen," he said firmly.

Jen drew back slightly in surprise, "Do what?" she asked.

Harm cupped her face in his hand again, and gently stroked his thumb down her cheek bone, "It's not going to happen. At least, not if I can help it. It's a simple case of TFOA…"

"TFO... What?" Jen asked, intrigued despite herself.

"Things falling off aircraft," Harm replied, and then expanded, "there were some concerns back in the nineties about the dangers of ordnance and drop tanks and other stuff falling off airplanes, so the Navy instituted what they called the TFOA program, every incident had to be reported, and investigated. The Navy doesn't run the program any more, but the acronym stuck. But anyway even in the heyday of the programme, there was never any need for an investigator to go flying, and that suits me just fine."

Jen frowned in the darkness, Harm sounded far too insouciant for her liking, this was Harm, talking about not flying, and he was happy with that. There was something here she needed to get to the bottom of, but she had to be careful not to make too big a deal of it.

"You know, that's slightly scary," she said hoping that Harm could hear the smile she tried to inject in her voice. "I mean, I'm lying in bed, with a man with whom I just made love, and now a horrible question has just popped into my mind."

"What question is that?" Harm asked worriedly, propping himself up on one elbow and peering into the darkness in an effort to make out Jen's expression.

Jen grinned as she lowered the boom, "Who are you, and what have you done with my husband?"

Harm let himself flop back onto the bed, "Damn, you nearly scared the crap out of me! I thought you were being serious!"

"In a way, I was. This is serious," Jen squirmed closer to Harm until she could rest her head on his chest and drape her arm across him. "You're suddenly talking as if you didn't want to fly any more. That's not the man I married, so what brought this about?" she asked, although she was already beginning to form an idea of his reasons.

Harm ducked his head until he was able to plant a kiss on Jen's brow, "what brought this about? He echoed. "Well, that would be you and Alison Patricia." Once again he felt Jen take a deep breath as if she was about to interrupt him. "Just listen, a minute before you say anything, please. My dad never knew his dad, grandpa Rabb never came home from his final flight. And you know all about my dad. Grams has sometimes referred to our family history as 'the Rabb curse', but if anyone calls her on it, she just claim is it a bad cosmic joke, but I'm not so sure that she really believes that. So I'm going to do everything in my power to break the Rabb curse, if it exists. No more Rabbs growing up without a father!"

"You're giving up Sarah as well?" Jen asked.

"Oh, no, not Sarah, just fast jets."

"Apart from combat, what's the most dangerous thing that Navy aviators have to do?" Jen challenged.

Harm frowned again in the darkness, "Making traps, I guess."

"And after that?" Jen persisted.

Harm thought for a moment, "I don't know if it's the next most dangerous, most military flying operations have their own risks, but I suppose next in order would be in-flight refuelling."

"But you wouldn't be making traps or refuelling in-flight, with Sarah, would you?"

"No… where are you going with this?"

"So, if you could continue to fly F fourteens, without having to make traps, or or refuelling in-flight, then it would be just as safe as flying in Sarah, wouldn't it? In fact, it would be safer, Tomcats have two engines, so if you do have an engine failure, you've got another engine to get you back home. But if something goes wrong with Sarah, you have to find somewhere to put her down pretty damn quick don't you?"

"I guess…" Harm said reluctantly. "Are you asking me to give up flying Sarah? I will if you want me to."

"No! Definitely not! And I don't want you to give up Tomcats either. I'll admit, I'd feel happier if you weren't flying off and landing on carriers, or if you don't have to refuel in flight. But all those things are a part of you, the you I fell in love with. And I don't want you changing because you feel you have to for my sake."

"Wow, you certainly said a lot there. Are you sure about all this?"

"I wouldn't have said it, if I wasn't sure." Jen assured him, and then surprised herself by giving vent to an almighty yawn. "Whoops!" she giggled, even as she blushed and buried her face in the hollow of Harm's shoulder.

Harm tightened his grasp around her shoulder slightly, "Okay, we'll talk about this some more when I get back from Norfolk, in the meantime, I promise you unless I am ordered, I will not even climb in to a Tomcat until we've hammered this out. So now, Mrs Rabb, we're burning the night away, so let's try and get some sleep, hey?"

"Your wish is my command, O Master," a suddenly drowsy Jen murmured, "G'night."

"Good night, sweetheart," Harm replied softly as he bent his head once more and dropped another gentle kiss onto the sweet-smelling crown of Jen's head.

**lxx-lxx-lxx-lxx-lxx**

Despite the unusually late hour at which she had gone to sleep Jen was up and showered, before Harm's eyes had fluttered open. He propped himself up on one elbow in bed, and squinted, bleary eyed at the alarm clock. "You're up early," he remarked to Jen, who in skirt and bra sat in front of her dressing table, brushing out her hair in preparation for braiding it for duty.

Jen paused in her actions, half turned in her chair and smiled over her shoulder, "it's your daughter's fault, "she explained, "she decided to play soccer with my bladder. And once that starts, there's only one remedy!"

Harm winced, "And do I want to know what that is?" he asked.

Jen gave him a long, considering look, before she turned back to the mirror and picked up her hairbrush again, "No, probably not," she said carelessly.

Harm growled in mock frustration, and swung his legs out of bed, prior to standing and heading for the bathroom. Jen gazed admiringly at his reflection in the mirror. "You go ahead, shower and shave and get dressed. Check your sea bag, and while you do that, I'll fix Breakfast!"

Harm paused in the bathroom doorway and looked back at Jen, "Damn, I knew there was a reason I married you!"

"What, besides that you love me truly, madly, deeply," Jen quipped.

Harm's grin softened into what Skates had on a prior occasion described as his super-sappy smile, and one that never failed to cause Jen's heart to give a little lurch. "Yeah, there is that, too" Harm admitted.

Jen laughed in sheer delight, "G'wan, git!" she commanded.

Jen and Harm kept up their cheerful front throughout breakfast, although her façade came near to cracking as Harm gave Jen her customary kiss goodbye just before she left for work.

"Damn, I'm going to miss you," she said, a little catch in her voice.

Harm reached up in a familiar gesture, and gently followed the line of Jen's cheekbone with the ball of his thumb, "Hey, I'll be back tomorrow, and you'll have Harriet, Loren and Sasha for company this evening, so I reckon you'll be far too busy having fun to miss me!" he grinned.

Jen shook her head in negation, "Not going to happen, sailor. Yes, I'll enjoy the evening, but it's not going to stop me missing you!"

Harm nodded, "And I'll miss you too, sweetheart. I'll call you as soon as I get settled in the VOQ, but I don't know what time that will be, so when I call it will be on your cell, okay?"

Jen nodded, "I'll look forward to it, and I'll make sure that they have my cell, fully charged with me at all times. So, if you have to change plans, if you have to extend your trip away, or even if you have to cut it short, call me."

"Will do, now, you'd best head on out, otherwise you'll likely be late for duty, and we really don't want Tracy Manetti to write you up!"

Jen stretched up on her tiptoes and wound her arms securely around Harm's neck, kissing him deeply one more time before she let him go, and with a brave smile, said "That's it, I'm out of here, drive safely, sailor!"

Harm smiled at her again, and Jen grabbed her purse and cover with a final if somewhat shaky grin turned and made for the front door.

Harm drew in a deep, shuddering breath, and gave himself a mental shake, and returned his attention to clearing away the remainder of the breakfast detritus. As he closed the door to the dishwasher, he realised that he would normally expect to have seen Loren by this time, before he remembered that he had advised her to take her own car in this morning. With a shake of his head, he clapped his cover on to his head and picked up his briefcase.

**lxx-lxx-lxx-lxx-lxx**

With a fair assumption of cheerfulness, Harm sortied into the break room, following the smell of freshly brewed coffee, to find Harriet and Loren in apparent deep discussion.

He managed a grin, and a cheerful good morning to them both, as he poured himself a mug of coffee. Then finding himself the subject of the study of two pairs of blue eyes, he turned to face the two lieutenants and said, "What?"

Loren and Harriet exchanged meaningful look before they turned their faces back towards Harm.

"Okay, okay, I get it, I accidentally intruded on girl talk! I got my coffee now, so if it's alright with you ladies, I shall beat a retreat and leave you to it!" And with a second grin, he suited his actions to his words and left the two blondes in possession of the field.

However, he hadn't been at his desk for more than five minutes, and had barely fired up his PC was in the process of checking his emails, when Loren knocked on his door frame.

"Come on in," he invited her, "and take a seat. What can I do for you?"

"Nothing, thank you," Loren replied, "I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"Why wouldn't I be?" Harm asked.

"Well, you are going to be away overnight. And while Harriet and I will be looking after Jen, I'm just a little worried because there's no one to look after you!"

Harm's expression sobered, "I'll be okay, Loren. It's just that I don't like the idea of leaving Jen. The last time I was out of town you to got caught at that storm on the way up to Grams will I was stuck out in California, and then the last time Jen was out of town it was because of that Webb SNAFU! It just seems to me that she and I are better off together than we are part!"

"You really have got it bad, haven't you?" Loren asked with a smile, "Oh, no, don't get embarrassed, Harm, it's really rather sweet and cute."

"Sweet and cute!" Harm spluttered, not sure whether he should be flattered or indignant, fortunately he was spared any further indignity, when Mac stuck her head through the doorway, "Are you two coming to staff call this morning, or are you just going to sit there all morning beating your gums?" She grinned.


	71. Mice at Play

**71**

**Mice at Play**

Babs Saunders was hard put to fight back a broad grin as she, together with the rest of the attorneys, left the conference room at the end of staff call.

As a matter of courtesy, Admiral Chegwidden had introduced Commander Baxter to the assemblage, and more importantly, as far as Babs was concerned, he had introduced key members of his staff to Baxter. Babs had already noted the way Baxter's eyes had flickered towards Harm and Mac as they faced each other across the conference table, both totally at ease, or so it seemed, in each other's company, and the expression on Baxter's face when the Admiral had introduced Mac as his Chief of Staff, had been almost comical. With a silent giggle, she acknowledged that she hadn't been much help either, acknowledging the Admiral's introduction with a cool look and a hint of a cynical smile.

From what looked like a forced smile on Baxter's face, it seemed that he was beginning to realise that his verbal assault on Harm before he had worked out the interpersonal relationships of the office was more than just slightly premature.

**lxxi-lxxi-lxxi-lxxi-lxxi**

Harm eased the Navy issue Crown Victoria through the Beltway interchange and onto the I-95, increasing his foot pressure on the accelerator as he did so. The only noticeable result of this action however was the sulphurous curse that burst from him as the slowly moving needle on the speedo testified to the sluggishness of the car's response.

'Note to self: have a word with the motor pool about what constitutes a decent ride!' Harm thought savagely. From Falls Church to the Beltway, via Annandale road and Arlington Boulevard the motor pool car's lack of response hadn't really been noticeable. Neither had it become evident on the Beltway with its barrage of traffic signals and its stop-go traffic flow. But now it had made it to the open road – well, as much as the I-95 could be called an open road this near to DC – the car's faults had become more noticeable. With a resigned sigh, Harm watched the speedo needle slowly climb to just under sixty mph, and there, no matter how heavy his foot on the pedal, it remained. Shaking his head, Harm settled back to endure the three-hour plus drive to Norfolk.

**lxxi-lxxi-lxxi-lxxi-lxxi**

Jen hung her cover on one of the pegs on the back of the office door, and dropped her briefcase next to her chair before lowering herself into it with a sigh of relief.

Angela had already interrupted her work to exchange morning greetings with Jen, but now as she heard her friend exhale noisily she looked up again this time a slight crease between her eyes betraying her concern. "Everything alright, Jen?" she asked.

Jen rummaged in her desk drawer for a few seconds before she sat back and looked across at Angela. "In the grand scheme of things, everything's fine." She paused to bite the end of the wrapper off the Nutty Butty wafer bar, "It's just that the walk from the CP is getting pretty old, and by the time I get here my feet ache, my legs ache, my back aches. And…" Jen took a savage bite from the wafer bar, chewed and swallowed, "I can almost guarantee that I'll have just about got comfortable, and Little Miss Soccer Player in here will decide that it's just about time to use my bladder to practice kicking field goals – or whatever is soccer players do!" And just to dispel any false illusions that Angela might have about her mood, Jen took another bite from the wafer bar, but pulled a face and complained, "And I still hate marshmallow!"

Angela grinned, "You are almost, note almost, putting me off having any of those of my own!"

Jen looked at her sourly, "I see, you're one of those. One of those people who can't profit by others' experiences but just have to try for themselves!"

Angela just looked blankly at Jen for a moment, and then burst into laughter. "Okay," she said between gasps for air once she'd stopped laughing, "what's really up?"

Jen pouted, "Harm, he's away Norfolk for one, possibly two nights, and I would far sooner have him back with me!"

Angela looked sharply now at Jen, "You just count your blessings and suck it up, Jennifer Rabb. At least your Harm is only a couple of hours away for a couple of days. You're a damn-sight better off than a lot of women! Just stop and think for a moment, about all the other service spouses in your condition, whose husbands are on a six-month cruise, or God forbid, are deployed in Afghanistan or Iraq!"

Jen's face lost its discontented expression, even as she writhed under Angela's tongue lashing. "You are right of course, and to be honest and fair, I'm much better off than those women; but here's the thing, I don't want to be fair!"

Angela relaxed her stern expression and allowed a smile to take its place. "Yeah. You may not want to be fair, but I know you too well; you will be, you can't help yourself – it's what you do. And here's another thing, Jen, it may not feel like it at the moment, but it's not going to last forever. I mean, how much longer have you got, four months now isn't it?"

"Oh yeah, another four months of increasingly sleepless nights, more trips to the bathroom, more backache, more tired feet, and I can hardly see them now! It's difficult enough already, but what the hell am I going to do in another couple of months when I can't even bend to shave my legs!"

Angela chuckled, "Well, according to my older sister, that's what husbands are for!"

Jen stared at Angela, eyes and mouth all open to their widest extent, "My God," she said faintly, "I'm just imagining Harm's face the first time I ask him to shave my legs."

"That bad, huh?" Angela asked.

Jen looked at her for a moment or two and then shook her head pityingly, "Oh, Angela, you have no idea!"

**lxxi-lxxi-lxxi-lxxi-lxxi**

Harm had already interviewed Woodman, and although he hadn't much liked the younger man at first sight, there was an air of honesty and integrity about him that convinced Harm that when he said all the ordnance was properly secured, Harm believed him.

Now, seated at the desk in the office made available to him, Harm looked up from the folder that lay open before him on the desk, into the hot, angry eyes Commander Nelson Groombridge, the chief instructor for OC course number 941. Relying on his acquaintanceship with Groombridge, Harm decided to go for the informal approach, "Nel, you realise that almost any competent JAG could blow so many holes in in this case, in so short a time, you'd think it had been used as a towed target. Apart from the fact that Lieutenant Torrens signed off on the aircraft check sheet that all ordnance was properly stowed and secured, Woodman, is an AO, and shouldn't be working unsupervised. Yes, he signed to say all weapons had been secured as had the airplane, but his work should have been checked by his crew chief, or in his absence by a Petty Officer Ordnanceman. Now, both you and I are old enough aviators to remember the old TFOA program, we're both old enough to know the program was scrapped because sometimes through nobody's fault, things do fall off aircraft. Now I know what I just said to you," he tapped the folder with the end of his pen, "is exactly what your own SJA advised when you first brought the case to his attention. So what's with the need to crucify Woodman?"

Nelson Groombridge shook his head, "That file isn't the be all and end of it, Harm. This is just one more link in a chain of unsatisfactory outcomes where Woodman has been involved."

Harm raised a sceptical eyebrow and picked up another folder, which Groombridge immediately recognised as an SRB.

"The only problem with that as justification, is that the boy's SRB is clean. No record of performance counselling, no letters of admonition, no page eleven entries, according to this, this kid is a poster boy!"

Groombridge fumed silently for a moment or two, before he gritted his teeth, looked up and said "The only reason Woodman's SRB is clean is because to date we haven't been able to prove anything against him."

"And you can't do it this time either, Nel. My legal opinion is that if you push this, the defence attorney will immediately file countercharges against Woodman's PO, his crew chief, and Lieutenant Torrens and even then, this case has probably got something like a ninety-five percent chance of being dismissed at an Article Thirty-Two hearing."

"Dammit, Harm. I was hoping to hear something a bit more positive from you. I get the bleeding heart angle coming from the SJA up at Little Creek, but..."

Harm felt his hackles rise, "Bleeding heart?" He enquired lightly.

"Yeah, our own SJA is on emergency family leave, her husband just got back from Afghanistan, he lost an argument with an IED, and most of his left arm with it. So a Lieutenant Commander Williams from Little Creek has been covering for her, until the SJA at Norfolk can find a replacement for her."

Harm nodded, his face a mask, it probably wouldn't do at the moment to let Groombridge know that he was acquainted with the Little Creek SJA. "Well, be that as it may, bleeding heart or no, this kite won't fly, and that is my legal opinion. When you can prove Dereliction of Duty, against Woodman, and come back to us. In the meantime, and this is my opinion as an aviator, make sure your guys follow protocols, and have your Petty Officers and crew chiefs carry out their supervisory roles. That's what they get paid for."

"You're absolutely sure that you can't prosecute this one?"

"Oh, I could prosecute it alright, but I'd lose. Given my druthers, I'd defend it in an instant – actually, no, I wouldn't. I'd hand it off to the first JG straight out of NJS that I saw."

Groombridge scowled and then sighed, "Well, if that's the legal opinion are one of JAG's top guns," he grinned mirthlessly as Harm scowled at the description, "I'll just have to try to sell it to the convening authority. A written opinion would go a long way in helping me to sell dropping the charges," he asked with a hint of a question in his voice.

Harm nodded ruefully, "Okay, Nel, I'll have my written opinion drawn up and emailed to you, as soon as I get settled in at Norfolk, a couple of cases to deal with there this afternoon and tomorrow, so I do have to get going, but it looks like the O Club will be doing without my custom this evening."

**lxxi-lxxi-lxxi-lxxi-lxxi**

Loren paused next to Harriet's desk as she passed through the bullpen; she nodded an acknowledgement of the blonde JG's presence, and then turned to Harriet, "All set for this evening, Harriet?"

"Absolutely! I wouldn't miss it for the world. It's been a while; come to think of it the last time I had a family-free night, was the night David Medwick called you at Jen's, and asked you for a date!"

"Oh! That wasn't so long ago! Loren objected.

"Believe me, when you come to look after a rambunctious toddler, and you will, you will find that a single week can be a very long time!" Harriet's twinkled.

"No, not going to happen, Sasha is going to be a little angel all the way through her childhood and her teenage years – before you say anything about them either!" Loren defended her daughter.

"Right, dream on," Harriet answered with a grin, "Oh and nice try at deflection counsellor. But it ain't worked, and in fact all it's done is added an edge to my curiosity. Before this night is through, lady, you will have made a full confession, and you will come clean and tell Harriet and Jen all about your date with the hunky David 'Tuna' Medwick."

To her credit, Loren maintained a cool, relaxed air." I'll come clean right now," she offered insouciantly, "We went out for dinner we had a couple of glasses of wine with dinner, we danced. David drove me home, he walked me to my door, I gave him a kiss on the cheek, and we said good night. That's it, end of mission! Happy now?" Loren said easily, with a half-smile.

"Nice try, but, this evening you'd better have the full story ready, remember, resistance is futile!"

Loren let out a little gurgle of laughter, which attracted some slight attention of the denizens of the bullpen, and realising this, she once again cursed her mother as her cheeks flamed, but she had no intention of letting Harriet have the last word, "Yeah, right, bring it on!" And with a challenging grin, she nodded a farewell at both Harriet and Jo, and without giving Harriet a chance to reply turned on her heel and quick stepped away to the safety and sanctuary of her own office.

Jo Pearson's whole body betrayed her curiosity, "What was that all about?" she quizzed Harriet once Loren was safely out of earshot.

Harriet looked at her, as if sizing her up the first time, "Do you like s'mores?"

Jo blinked in surprise at the apparent non sequitur, "Who doesn't?" she asked.

**lxxi-lxxi-lxxi-lxxi-lxxi**

Tiner re-read the Medical Disposition Report that he had just pulled from his in-tray, and nodded. If the report was accurate than its contents could possibly go a fair distance to restoring the Admiral to as near as a sunny disposition as was feasible.

Quickly calling up his personal phone directory on his PC's monitor, he punched in the number that he had just checked and waited for an answer. Five minutes later, he rose to his feet and as was his habit checked that his uniform was in order and took the two necessary steps so that he could knock on the Admiral's door, and waited, listening for the gruff voiced "Enter!"

The Yeoman opened the door and crossed the stretch of carpet towards the desk, is unusual actions in doing so causing Admiral Chegwidden two races head of the file he was reading an lay down his pen. "What is it, Tiner?"

"Disposition Report from Tripler, at Pearl, Sir. Commander Turner departed Pearl yesterday afternoon. I double checked with Bethesda, and he has arrived and the medicos are giving him a once over before they decide if they can send him on hospital leave yet, but they're not likely to reach that decision until tomorrow morning, Sir."

One of Chegwidden's rare grins, not normally seen by his staff during duty hours, creased his face. "That's good news, Tiner, really good news. Thank you." Chegwidden realised that his Yeoman was still hovering instead of acting on the implied dismissal, "Was there something else, Tiner?"

"Uh... Yes, Sir, I was wondering should I call you a car and a driver, Sir?"

Chegwidden's grin faded, to be replaced by a puzzled frown, "Why would I want a car and driver?"

"To take you to Bethesda, Sir." Tiner replied brightly, but in the manner of one stating the obvious.

Chegwidden snorted, "Tiner, I allow you to arrange my calendar, as it pertains to my duties as JAG, that does not permit you to schedule my activities outside this office, unless they are part of my duties as JAG. I am more than capable of deciding when, or indeed if, I should visit any of my staff while they are in hospital." He fixed his Yeoman with a gimlet-like stare, "Do you read me?"

"Aye, aye, Sir!" Tiner snapped out in reply.

Chegwidden continued to eye his Petty Officer for a few moments more, before he barked the dismissal. But barely had the door closed behind his subordinate he reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Scrolling down the stored numbers he quickly came to the one he wanted and pressed the start call button.

When the call connected, he took a slight breath and said, "This is Admiral Chegwidden, at Falls Church. One of my officers, a Commander Turner, has just been transferred in from Pearl Harbour. All I need to know is whether he is fit to receive visitors."

"_Just one moment, please Sir, while I check…_"

Chegwidden drummed his fingers irritably on the blotter on his desk, he knew that delays while facts were checked were an inevitable part of these type of calls, but that knowledge didn't help, or reduce the length of the delays. His impatient thoughts were finally brought to an end by the same calm, cool and professional voice at the other end of the line, "_Hello sir, Commander Turner is being evaluated this afternoon, Sir, but he's quite fit enough to receive visitors. Visiting hours are from nineteen hundred until twenty thirty , Sir._"

"Thank you, Lieutenant. That will be all."

"_Yes, Sir_."

Chegwidden replaced the phone in his pocket and mentally rearranged his plans for the evening, juggling events and timings, allowing himself two hours in which to make the trek from McLean to Bethesda, spend time with Sturgis Turner, and get back home in time for dinner.

Once again his hand dipped into his pocket and brought out his cell phone. This time he went straight to his speed dial number one, a smile of anticipation creasing the corner of his mouth, and on the call being answered his smile broadened, "Hello, Sydney, a slight change of plans for this evening…"

**lxxi-lxxi-lxxi-lxxi-lxxi**

By the time Harm had cleared at Oceana, driven up to Norfolk cleared security, and spoken to the SJA, Lieutenant Jacobs, he was in no very good mood. "Why was this file sent up the chain to JAG HQ?" He demanded.

Jacobs looked slightly uneasy, "Sir, you are a commander, when you speak, lieutenant commanders, other commanders and probably even captains listen. I'm a Lieutenant, and around here that's not much higher rated than being a plebe at Annapolis. I can point out that BM Three Oliver attempted to impose an unlawful punishment, but I get told that's not the point. He gave the Seaman an order and the Seaman wilfully disobeyed that order. At first, I thought of recommending a Captain's Mast, but then I realised that if Seaman Apprentice Farmer stood a mast, then in all probability she'd end up with an unfair entry on her page eleven."

"H'mm... The Petty Officer was intending to impose an unlawful punishment you say. What's your reasoning behind that?"

Jacobs relaxed slightly, he felt he was on firmer ground now that the visiting fireman from JAG HQ didn't seem to be so accusatory as the younger officer had feared, and Harm noted with satisfaction that degree of relaxation which he hoped reflected the Lieutenant's confidence.

"Oliver abrogated to himself authority which had not been granted to him. At first he claimed he was punishing Farmer for being… Jacobs opened the second file, "Sloppy and un-Seaman like on watch. When it was pointed out to him that detailing of extra work as a punishment was contrary to the UCMJ and Navy Regs, he changed his story to say that it was EMI awarded to correct Farmer's failure to carry out her duties in a satisfactory manner. It was then made clear to him that under the authority of Navy regulations that EMI should normally be restricted to a period of two hours, and not a full four hour watch, and that as a PO Three he didn't have the authority to order EMI, as the Captain's standing orders make it clear that only Chief Petty Officers and above are granted that authority."

Harm's brow creased in a puzzled frown, "And has this all been explained to the Captain?"

"It has, Sir."

"Then why is he so determined to push forward with the case?"

Jacobs gave as near a shrug as he dared, "Captain's position is that a Petty Officer gave an order and that order should have been obeyed and that if Seaman Apprentice Farmer had a problem with the order, that the time for her to make her command aware of that problem was only after she had obeyed the order. In a way, Sir, I can see where the Captain is coming from. If the ship has to go to action stations and engage the enemy, it's no time or place for a Seaman to start quibbling the legality of the Petty Officer' s orders, or for a Petty Officer to start disputing the legality of orders that may well originate from the bridge."

Harm tapped his pencil arrhythmically on the file in front of him, "It's a good argument, on the surface, Lieutenant. Unfortunately the excuse that 'I was only obeying orders' was pretty well discredited at Nuremberg." He looked shrewdly at the Junior officer, "but, you knew that. The Navy can't have it both ways. If we insist that our sailors must unquestioningly obey any orders, especially if they have qualms as to the legality of those orders, we cannot then turn around and prosecute those sailors if at a later date their actions in obedience to those orders are seen to be illegal. And then neither can we punish sailors, for refusing to obey unlawful orders. I realise on the scale of things that a Seaman Apprentice refusing to obey an unlawful order to stand an extra watch is a far cry from that same Seaman Apprentice refusing an order to mistreat a prisoner, for example. But the principle is exactly the same. I'll speak to the Captain, but if he remains obdurate, then I shall recommend that this case goes to an Article Thirty Two, and if that turns out to be the case, then I shall defend, and then when I win the case, I shall prefer charges against BM Three Oliver under Article Ninety-Two of the UCMJ, on the grounds that he disobeyed a regulation or order which he knew, which he should have known.

**lxxi-lxxi-lxxi-lxxi-lxxi**

Harm looked around the decidedly Spartan room he'd been allocated with distinct disapproval. As the apologetic Ship's Servicemen at the VOQ front desk had explained, the facility was overflowing with more than the usual amount of senior officers, as the command was hosting a tabletop war-game, as a result, Commanders, especially those making last-minute bookings, had to be relegated to the facilities normally reserved for Lieutenants and JGs needing only a roof and the bed before reporting into the new duty station in the morning, or heading out for pastures new after signing out of their previous accommodation.

Harm had had to pretend to be satisfied with the explanation given him, it wasn't the first, and it probably wouldn't be the last time he was bumped to make way for a more senior officer. However, he did need to work in here this evening, and the only surface he could use as a make shift desk was a battered chest of drawers, the top of which was uncomfortably high when he tried the decidedly uncomfortable wooden chair. The only thing for it was to use the pillow from the single bed to both pad the chair and raise him towards a more comfortable working height.

The first priority however was to scramble out of his whites, and then pad, towel-wrapped along the hall to the communal showers and rinse off the day's dust, grime and perspiration.

Once showered and dressed in jogging bottoms and a T-shirt, a short phone call to the on-base pizza concession took care of his dinner needs, so wiping his fingers and lips with a paper napkin, he crumbled the pizza box and tossed it into the trash. Then with a reluctant sigh he rigged his laptop, pull out the Farmer and Woodman files and set to work writing his opinions, conclusions and recommendations recommendations for inclusion in those files, and for onward transmission to Jacobs on the one hand and commander Groombridge on the other.

**lxxi-lxxi-lxxi-lxxi-lxxi**

Loren cast a satisfied look around her lounge; dishes and bowls of snacks were set out on almost every available surface. A fed, bathed, powdered, clean, dry, temporarily contented and onesie-clad Sasha reclined in her Porta-crib, ready to receive the adulation and compliments that were her due, and which her mother was certain would be delivered by Harriet.

A double tap on the ranch-house door brought a glance at her watch, which in turn produced a half-smile, bang on the dot of nineteen hundred, that would be Jen she reckoned, and crossing the room opens the door, her half smile turning into a full-blown grin as she proved herself right. What she hadn't counted on, however, was the covered tray Jen bore in both hands.

Loren hurried to relieve Jen of her burden, exclaiming as she did so, "You are so lucky that Harm isn't here to see you load yourself down like that!" As she felt the weight of the tray.

"It's not that heavy," Jen objected, "it's only a chocolate cake. Just spreading the load a little." she added seeing Loren about to launch an objection of her own. And then seeing Sasha contentedly gurgling away in her Porta-crib, Jen crossed the room and gingerly lowered herself to one knee, "Hi, Princess, you don't mind me bringing a cake all the way across the yard, do you, sweetheart?" Jen asked the uncaring infant, but with a sly, sidelong glance at Loren as she did so.

What, if anything, Loren might have had to say reply was lost, as blonde and brunette both turned their heads towards the door from which direction they thought they could hear giggling. Their heads swivelled back to face each other, and Jen gave a helpless shrug. Loren made a face indicating a lack of knowledge, and turning back towards the door opened it.

For a moment, she stood dumbstruck, before she faltered, "Harriet... What...?"

"Oh, aren't you going to let us in?" Harriet asked mischievously.

Loren stepped back in dumb obedience, allowing a quartet of giggling blondes to enter her home. Harriet was first through the door, and handing a large grocery sack to Loren, said somewhat sheepishly, "I can explain…"

Loren shook her head, "You'd better be able to, because it's going to have to be a doozy!" But she then turned to the other three, and mustered a smile, as the surprise wore off and she began to see the funny side "Come on in ladies, and take a seat, here, give me that, Carolyn," she said putting the grocery sacks down and grabbing the case of canned sodas from the older woman.

As she'd anticipated, Harriet once Loren's eye was off her made a beeline for the Porta-crib, arriving just in time to give Jen a helping hand as she started to struggle to her feet, before she she stared at the miniature blue-eyed blonde in the crib, "Oh, Loren, she is so beautiful… I thought she was so gorgeous the first day you brought her into the bullpen, but she's grown so much, and she's so… so…."

"Beautiful?" Jen offered the totally false air of helpfulness.

Harriet's words acted as a signal, as her three companions also converged on the crib, under cover of their exclamations Jen eased herself into a cushion-stuffed armchair and with a sigh of relief toed off her moccasins, while Loren basked in the praise being heaped on her daughter, who her part seemed to accept the adulation bestowed upon her as her birthright, and demonstrated just how unimpressed she was by blowing a huge bubble, yawning mightily and going to sleep

Loren looked around at the party, which had suddenly doubled in size from its planned attendance, and chuckled almost helplessly, "Okay ladies, try and find somewhere to sit, but leave space for me, while I go and fix us some drinks; sodas okay for everyone?"

The question was answered with a general wave of assent, and pausing only to grab the new case of sodas, Loren disappeared into the kitchen, to return within a couple of minutes with a half-dozen cans of her favourite diet Pepsi. The drinks handed around, Loren wriggled into the space that had been left between Harriet and the arm of the couch, and said, "Okay Roberts, give!"

Harriet grinned somewhat self-consciously, "Umm... You haven't officially met Jo have you? She's here as a witness for the Lindsey case, and she's been helping me out with next year's stationery supplies budget. Apart from me, she doesn't know anyone else in DC, so I thought you wouldn't really mind if she just sort of tagged along tonight?"

Loren leaned forward to look around Harriet at the youngest member of the party, "Hi, Jo, nice to meet you, and of course you're welcome! This isn't going to be a particularly thrilling bash, just a chick flick, sodas, snacks and maybe even a bit of gossip! But…" Loren leaned back and locked her pale blue eyes with Harriet's cornflower blue ones, "But that doesn't explain these two," with a significant nod at Carolyn and Babs, the one perched on a cushion on the floor, and the other in the remaining armchair.

"Well, Babs is Jo's de facto brig chaser, and as neither of them have the faintest clue of how to get from Anacostia to here, I had to show them the way," Carolyn smiled ingenuously.

"And we did bring extra supplies," Babs offered helpfully.

Loren and Jen exchanged a helpless glance, "Oh, if you brought extra supplies, then that makes everything okay, doesn't it, Loren?"

Loren levered herself off of the couch, "Just for that," she snorted, "a change to the scheduled program." She crossed to the DVD player, and injecting the disc she had previously loaded, she put it back in its case and selected a different disc from the roll on the shelf above. With a triumphant grin at Jen, she declared, "instead of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, we will now watch Bringing up Baby! Help yourselves to snacks, ladies!"


	72. Déjà vu all over again

**72**

**Déjà vu all over again**

Harm groaned as he awoke. As usual, the bed was too short for him, but also as a single bed, it was too narrow for him to alleviate the problem by sleeping diagonally across it. He had been obliged, therefore, to sleep in a semi-foetal position and his muscles had stiffened overnight. He picked up his watch from the night-stand and squinted at it, it was barely five-thirty, but that, he reasoned, was a good thing; it gave him plenty of time to repair the overnight damage and get ready to face the new day.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, little better than a cot, he grumbled to himself, and wincing as his knees protested, stood. Quickly changing into gym shorts and a tank top he groaned again as he sat to tie the laces on his sneakers, but once dressed, he left the room and locking it behind him attached the key to his dog tags, before heading outdoors where he used the steps to the building as an aid to a series of stretching exercises, as he worked the stiffness out of his muscles he began to feel a little better, and after a few more minutes he felt sufficiently warmed up to hit the pavement.

After a comparatively slow, jogging start, you are he began to hit his stride, his speed increased and each stride lengthened, and as he began to take a little more interest in his surroundings, he saw that he was not the only runner to take advantage of the cool early morning temperature.

Working from memory, he ran a route which would bring him back to the VOQ in what he thought would be about forty minutes, so when he arrived back at his start point in forty-two minutes, damp with preparation and breathing heavily, he wasn't too displeased.

An hour and a half later found him freshly showered, shaved, dressed in freshly pressed peanut butters and standing in line for breakfast at the mess hall.

While eating his breakfast, he considered the best approach to resolving the Farmer case, but he didn't reach a definite conclusion until he'd sunk his second cup of surprisingly good coffee. But his mind made up, he returned his tray to the rack, and headed for the SJA's office.

**lxxii-lxxii-lxxii-lxxii-lxxii**

Jen couldn't stop yawning as she dressed and pottered about the kitchen preparing a simple breakfast tea and toast. Last night had been a whole lot of fun; the movie, had given them all an excuse to consume far too much soda, too much popcorn, before they had moved on to chips and dips, which were then succeeded by the non-traditional, but highly successful method of making s'mores under the kitchen grill, resulting in an a sugar-induced high which fuelled the rest of the evening with giggles and gossip, and ended with the promise by Loren and Harriet of a similar occasion in the not too distant future, under the guise of a baby shower for Jen.

Fun it had been, but the inclusion of the extra bodies had meant it had gone on for much longer than either Jen all Loren had counted on, it was long gone midnight before Carolyn, Babs and Jo left, their departure was followed by a quick clean-up session before Harriet took her leave, walked to her car by Jen.

By the time Jen had then let herself back into the house and puffed her way upstairs to the bedroom, the lights in the run chase were already out, not that it took more than about three more minutes before Jen was in bed, and the lights were out, her eyes closing almost at the same second her head hit the pillow.

From the point of view of distracting her from Harm's absence the night had been a success, but this morning in addition to her tiredness she felt a sense of dislocation which she attributed to Harm not being there. That analysis made her think, since the age of fourteen she had been resolutely independent, not needing anyone, fending for herself, and she admitted wryly, making her own mistakes. That realisation had come during the Christmas break during which Harm had first come into her life. Not that she was in love with him at that time, her feelings had swung between resentment at his attitude, grudging admiration for his dedication, gratitude that he hadn't just dumped in the brig, and a sense of almost wonder that for the first time since her mother had died she had met someone who seemed to care for her without any expectation of anything in return. Those feelings had developed into a wholehearted respect for Harm's dedication to justice and truth, that respect had gradually morphed into a genuine liking, which over time, had become love.

The sigh that followed her thoughts was partly happy, but it was also partly exasperated, she hoped like hell that Harm would, as he'd half promised, be home tonight.

Rinsing her cup and plate in the sink she left them stacked on the draining board to air dry, while she gathered her cover and purse, and left for the daily grind at the Pentagon.

**lxxii-lxxii-lxxii-lxxii-lxxii**

It was low tide when Harm, with Lieutenant Jacobs in tow, arrived alongside the _USS John W Wallace_, the DDG in which both BM Three Oliver and Seaman Apprentice Farmer served. Arriving at the head of the gangway both officers paused, faced aft and saluted the colours, before Harm turned to the officer of the deck, "Commander Rabb and Lieutenant Jacobs, request permission to come aboard, Sir?"

The officer of the deck, a Lieutenant of Asiatic appearance, returned Harm's salute, "Permission granted, Sir." With the formalities complete, he eyed the mill-rindes on the visitors collars, and a trifle apprehensively asked "What is the nature of your business, Sir?"

Harm smiled what he hoped was a friendly manner, he had a pretty good idea of what would happen next, "We need to see the captain."

The young Lieutenant visibly swallowed before he summed up his deck party, "Miller! Conduct these two officers to the Captain's day cabin!"

The petty officer returned a snappy "Aye, aye, Sir!" And then to Harm and Lieutenant Jacobs, "If you'll follow me, Sirs."

Harm and Jacobs followed the petty officer along a series of gangways and up ladders heading for the bridge area, and Harm had no doubt while they were on their way, the officer of the watch will be on his personal radio alerting the skipper to the fact that he had visitors on their way, and of the nature of the visitors. His smile of greeting, as they were met by the ships XO, served to camouflage the sardonic grin the fulfilling of his expectations.

Conducted into the Captain's day cabin Harm and Jacobs braced to attention, "Commander Rabb and Lieutenant Jacobs, reporting as ordered, Sir!" Adding the honorific because although Commander Atkinson was the same rank as Harm, as the captain of a ship, on board ship, his command authority was immeasurably greater.

However he gave the team JAG officers a flat, almost unfriendly stare, "Whose orders?" he grunted.

"The Judge Advocate General's orders, Sir!" Harm replied.

"Do you have a copy of those orders, Commander?" Atkinson inquired.

Harm had been prepared for the question, "I do Sir," he unsnapped his briefcase and produced is orders. Atkinson skimmed through them, satisfying himself that the name of his ship appeared on them.

Satisfied on that account, he relaxed and in the milder tone asked, "What exactly can I do for you, Commander?"

"Well, I'd like to interview both BM Three Oliver, and Seaman Apprentice Farmer, but I'd also like to know, Sir, why you seem so intent on pushing this case to a court martial, when at first sight it would be more suited to NJP."

Atkinson smiled grimly and shook his head, "BM Three Oliver has dropped me between a rock and a hard place. He gave an illegal order, and I would love to… Well, never mind that the moment, but Farmer should have obeyed the order, and protested it later. I have three hundred men and women on board, and I cannot afford to have, and I will not tolerate, any one of this ship's company choosing which orders they will or will not obey. On the other hand, I did not promote BM Three Oliver, I inherited him with the ship." Atkinson paused to make sure that Harm had got the message.

Harm had got the message, Commander Atkinson not only did not promote Oliver, he would not have promoted him in the first place had the decision been his.

"That hardly seems fair on Farmer, Sir."

"In what way?" Atkinson demanded.

"Do you really need to ask? We constantly tell our sailors that is an offence to disobey a lawful order, and that if obeying an unlawful order leads them to commit an unlawful act, then the 'I was obeying orders' defence is no defence. Oliver gave an unlawful order, Farmer was not obliged to obey it."

Atkinson sat a little straighter in his chair, "Commander, I've already heard all this from Lieutenant Jacobs, and you've brought nothing new to the table. I acknowledge the thrust of your argument but as I have said, I will not have orders disputed or disobeyed. No matter what my opinion of Oliver, he is a petty officer, he gave an order, it was disobeyed, and he wrote up the Seaman for the disobedience. Like it or not, I have to support his authority, or he will have none, and the next time he gives an order, perhaps to lower a boat away, sailors could be killed or injured because his orders were not heeded, or perhaps just not taken seriously. So, the charge against Farmer stands, that is my decision."

"Understood Sir, but I would still like to interview Oliver and Farmer, together with the opportunity to go through their SRBs, I would also like the chance to read a copy of your Standing Instructions, Sir."

"Very well. XO, make sure it happens!"

**lxxii-lxxii-lxxii-lxxii-lxxii**

The XO not only found Harm and Jacobs a working space, we also found them an MAA One to provide them with a copy of the Captain's Standing Instructions, and to find Oliver and Farmer and conduct them to the companionway outside the workspace.

Harm passed the Standing Instructions to Jacobs, "Find the section and paragraph where the skipper delegates responsibility for awarding EMI," he instructed his junior, "but at the same time, try and listen to the interviews."

Harm set himself up, with a legal pad and mini voice recorder, a recent present from Jen, before he called the Master at Arms to send in BM Three Oliver, who halted in a brace in front of Harm's temporarily desk and reported himself. Harm looked over critically, he was old for his rate, petty officers his apparent age normally senior petty officers second class, or even first-class. Other than that his appearance could hardly be faulted, his dungarees showed evidence of much laundering, and were faultlessly pressed, while his boondocker boots sported lightly spit-shined toes, and he held his brace so stiffly he almost trembled. However, in this case bearing and turnout worked against him, as Harm mentally pigeon-holed him as a drill-field martinet, a petty tyrant, who would probably have done all right for himself as a junior instructor at Boot Camp, but had no idea how to treat trained sailors.

"Stand easy, at ease, Petty Officer," Harm instructed him and waited until the sailor had relaxed. "Do you know why you're here?" Harm asked.

"No, Sir!"

"Well, I'm Commander Rabb, JAG Corps HQ, and this is Lieutenant Jacobs, also JAG Corps. We are investigating the charge you have preferred against Seaman Apprentice Farmer, of disobeying a direct order. When you wrote her up, what were you thinking, petty officer?"

"I ordered her to stand watch, and she refused, Sir. I gave an order she disobeyed it."

"Yet, you have been told that the order you gave was illegal. You must have been told in Boot Camp, and at leadership school, that sailors are not required to obey unlawful orders. So, once you'd been told your order was unlawful, why didn't you withdraw the charge?"

"She had to go and blab to all her little girly friends that she'd been charged, so as soon as it became known, if I'd let her slide, nobody would take me seriously any more. And besides, Sir, no one really bothers about who can and who can't award EMI, and for how long. It's just one of those things in Ships Standing Instructions, that the captain has to put in. Farmer needs to be taught that when she's detailed for duty, she needs to carry out that duty properly in a sailor-like way, and she can't be allowed to slide for sloppy work. Not on my watch she can't!"

Harm frowned, seizing on one aspect of Oliver's defence of his actions, "What did you mean by saying that the regulations on who and who cannot award EMI in ship's Standing Instructions were just one of those things that the captain had to put in?"

Oliver looked at Harm with something like disbelief, "It's the same throughout the Navy, Sir What's down on paper ain't the way it's done on board ship. Like now, if Farmer had stood watch like I told her to, it would have been over and done with, no need for you to come down from JAG HQ, no need for me to be dragged away from my part of ship, no need to bother the skipper… It's… It's like… tradition, you know, Sir?"

"No, Petty Officer, I don't know. And it sounds to me, remarkably like lower deck justice, but the days for that long gone. Doesn't it seem just a bit off, you wanting to charge Farmer for disobeying an order, but when you gave her that order, you were also disobeying an order?"

"But I just told you, Sir, what happens is different to what it says on paper," a baffled Oliver protested indignantly.

Harm decided to get the petty officer out the workspace, before he betrayed himself into open insubordination, as it was, his last outburst was pretty near the line. "Tone!" he cautioned Oliver, and looked him in the eye for about five long seconds, "Alright, BM Three, we're done here. Dismissed!"

Oliver's "Aye, aye, Sir!" and his about-face were, as Harm had suspected they might be, Boot Camp perfect.

The two officers waited until the door closed behind him before Harm turned to Jacobs, "Your opinion, Lieutenant?"

Jacobs shook his head and grimaced, "He looks the part… but…"

Harm agreed, "All shine and no substance. But more worrying, is that I got the sense that he didn't think he done anything wrong."

"Yes, but it's not just that, Sir, I get the feeling that there is some personal… animosity between them, certainly on Oliver's part, it will be interesting to hear Farmer's side of the story, and get the feel of what she thinks about Oliver."

Harm nodded, "Yes, it will. He glanced at his watch, and then at Farmers SRB, "I want the chance to look through this before we talk to her, do you think you can chase up a Messman, and get him or her to organise us a pot of coffee?"

Jacobs grinned, the first sign Harm had ever seen a somewhat serious young officer did in fact possess some sort of sense of humour. "On it, Sir!" He said as he rose to his feet.

**lxxii-lxxii-lxxii-lxxii-lxxii**

"Tiner, pass the word for Commander Rabb!"

"Commander Rabb is still at Norfolk, Sir!"

"Well, what the hell is he doing down there? No, don't answer that!" Admiral Chegwidden snapped as he saw his Yeoman's mouth open to form a reply, "Just pass the word for Colonel Mackenzie, instead!"

"Sir, the Colonel left for Dover immediately after staff call."

"Dover?"

Tiner nodded, "yes, Sir. She's investigating that mishap on the C-130; one of the bundle of minor cases that you shared out between the Colonel and the commander Sir."

"Alright, Tiner, dismissed!" The Admiral waited until his office door had closed, before opening his desk drawer, taking out the little brown bottle, and shaking two little white pills into the palm of his hand, before he threw back his head as he dropped the tablets onto the back of his tongue and swallowed. A mirthless grin spread over his stern features. He had just been handed a real doozy of a case, which for various reasons Mackenzie and Rabb were ideally suited to investigate. Now, despite pressure from the hill, relayed through the CNO, he would have to wait until his top investigators returned from the piddling little cases he'd handed them as part of their punishment in the wake of the Webb fiasco. And now that he needed them in Falls Church they were miles away. If there had been any possible way that they had known in advance about the hot potato that had just landed on his desk, he would've suspected them of punishing him!

He leaned forward and toggled the call switch on the intercom "Tiner, get hold of both or either Rabb or Mackenzie ASAP!"

"_Aye, aye, Sir_!"

**lxxii-lxxii-lxxii-lxxii-lxxii**

Harm looked at the young woman standing in front of him almost in disbelief. Not that there was anything wrong with her appearance, her dungarees were clean and pressed and her boots were shone, but without the ostentation of Oliver's turnout and bearing. No, there was nothing wrong with her appearance at all, in her early 20s, she was attractive rather than pretty. At about average height, with short cropped dark hair and hazel eyes she could almost have been the poster girl for female enlistment in the Navy.

What had caught Harm's attention was an entry in her SRB. "What were you thinking, when you enlisted?" Harm demanded.

"That I wanted to try the Navy for a hitch, Sir," she answered.

"Why didn't you applied for a commission? With a degree in electrical engineering, and a clean record I reckon the Navy would have been glad to take you on."

"You see Sir, my degree is from the University of Toronto, that's in Canada, Sir." she added helpfully.

"I'm aware of the location of Toronto," Harm said severely, "but what's that got to do with anything?"

"Well sir, my recruiter wasn't sure that a foreign degree would meet the requirements for commissioning, and I wasn't sure whether or not I wanted to make a long commitment to the Navy, we talked it through, and I signed up for a four-year contract."

Harm pursed his lips, Farmer's explanation made sense in a sort of half-assed way, but then his eye fell on an entry half a dozen lines down the page, "You went straight from Boot Camp to A school, which you passed, with top marks in record time. What are you doing here, in the Seamen's division?"

"I'm waiting for a place at C school, Sir, and it's the captain's policy that unrated Seamen go into the deck division."

Harm shook his head in bewilderment, the young woman in front of him was probably more qualified, if less experienced, in her field than the ET Ones to whom she would be subordinate when she passed the ET C school, and here she was, standing anchor watch on a destroyer in port. But as puzzling and as baffling as all this was, it wasn't really germane to the investigation at hand.

"You aren't disputing that you disobeyed BM Three Oliver's order to stand a second watch?"

"No, Sir."

"Would you like to tell me why you decided to disobey that order?"

"It was an unlawful order, Sir, and it is my duty not to obey it."

Harm leaned back in his chair, and twirled his pen through his fingers, "do you fancy yourself as a sea-lawyer, Seaman Farmer?"

"Ordinarily Sir, no. But this wasn't the first time that BM Three Oliver had found me extra work or extra duties to complete at the end of a watch. And the last time it happened, I was bitching to a friend and she told me that she heard that EMI could only be handed out by a Chief or above, so the next time I was off-watch, I went to see one of the Navy Counsellors on board, he guided me through Navy regulations, and the ship's Standing Instructions, so once I was sure of my ground, I told BM Three Oliver he wasn't going to be able to yank my chain any more."

Harm frowned as he heard the first part of Farmers explanation, but was hard put to hide a grin as she explained how she'd make sure of her ground before taking any action. "How many times, did BM Three Oliver find you extra duties?"

"Six or seven times, Sir."

Harm quickly dropped his eyes to her SRB, "that's in the five weeks you been aboard, is that right? You didn't know him from Boot Camp perhaps?"

"No Sir, never met him until I reported on board."

Harm re-read her training officers' and petty officers' remarks on her Boot Camp performance, and the marks she had been given on her fit-rep on completion of Boot Camp. There was nothing there to suggest that she was anything other than an above average recruit.

"So, it seems that BM Three Oliver has taken a dislike to you, can you suggest any reason why that might be?"

"We seem to get on okay at first, Sir, but then he found out I'd been to college and his whole attitude changed. I think he resents me, and anybody else, who is smarter than he is."

"And what happens next time he tries to give you extra duties or make you stand an extra watch?"

"Honestly, Sir? I'll tell him to go to hell, and if he wants to file charges again, fight him all the way up to the secretary of defence if I have to."

"Okay, thank you Farmer, dismissed." Once again, Harm was forced to fight down a grin.

His feelings were obviously shared by Jacobs, who let his breath out in a long, low whistle, "Thank God you finished when you did, Sir. I nearly burst out laughing!"

Harm looked at him, "this is no laughing matter, Lieutenant."

Jacobs looked at him, and saw how Harm's own smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth, "No, Sir it's not, but she was so earnest, and so indignant it was funny, Sir. Well, in my opinion, Sir."

Harm nodded, "She may have been, but I'll bet the skipper won't think so!"

**lxxii-lxxii-lxxii-lxxii-lxxii**

Harm was one hundred percent correct, Commander Atkinson heard his report in stony silence, and his expression far from smiling to begin with, became bleaker as Harm finished with his recommendations, "You have a very intelligent and thoughtful sailor in Farmer. She didn't go off half-cocked, she researched Navy regulations and your standing instructions, and made sure she had all the facts, and that she was on solid ground before she told Oliver that she wasn't standing for his nonsense any more. As for Oliver, I wouldn't presume to tell you how to run your ship, but he wouldn't last five minutes as a petty officer at JAG. You, yourself as good as told me this morning that you wouldn't have promoted him, and as I said to Lieutenant Jacobs here I thought he was all shine and no substance. My recommendations, Sir, drop the charges, take whatever action you feel necessary against Oliver, and get Farmer away to her C school ASAP."

Atkinson's "Thank you, Commander, don't let me keep you any longer," couldn't have been any icier if it had come direct from the North Pole.

**lxxii-lxxii-lxxii-lxxii-lxxii**

Harm and Jacobs left the ship, and as Harm set foot on the dock, he reached into his pocket, pulled out, and switched on his cell phone. As was normal practice, he had switched it off before boarding the destroyer. As he switched it on, the view-screen started flashing, notifying him that he had missed a call.

"One moment, Lieutenant," he interrupted Jacobs as the younger officer was asking him about his plans for the rest of the day.

However, when he saw that he actually missed seven calls, two from Mac, but five from JAG HQ, he felt the blood drained from his face, and fearing the worst, he turned away from Jacobs, unconsciously mimicking Webb's actions, and for which in the past he had mocked him unmercifully.

Hitting speed dial number three, he listened to the ringing tone at the other end.

"_JAG HQ, Yeoman One Tiner, Sir._"

"Tiner, it's Commander Rabb, what's so all fired urgent, that you've tried to call me so many times, nothing's happened to Jen, has it?"

"_Thank God you called in Commander, no, as far as I know your wife is fine, Sir. But the Admiral isn't, he's recalling you and the Colonel, you are to drop whatever it is you've got, and get back to Falls Church ASAP, Si_r!"

Harm bit his lip to stifle a an exasperated curse, "Alright Tiner, on my way in five, let the Admiral know."

"_Aye, aye, Sir_!" Tiner replied, but only just in time for Harm to hear him before he broke the connection."

"Sorry about this, Jacobs," Harm apologised. but it must be said that his voice didn't sound particularly apologetic, as he delved into his briefcase and thrust the other two Norfolk case files into the younger officer's arms. "That was the JAG' s Yeoman, passing on new orders, to get back to Falls Church ASAP. Keep hold of those files, and I'll get right back to you the second this panic is over. However, if you can close one, or both of them, then that will be a huge feather in your hat!"

And before Jacobs could frame a coherent answer, Harm was striding briskly away in the direction of the much-low pool car.

**lxxii-lxxii-lxxii-lxxii-lxxii**

The combination of the under-performing car and murderous traffic on the I-295 around, Richmond, and the resulting congestion on the I-95 North meant that it was nearly seventeen hundred hours before a weary Harm exited the elevator on JAG Ops floor, where he was almost immediately intercepted by Mac, who briskly relieved him of briefcase and cover, handing them to Harriet with a request that she look after them. The Marine then looked at Harm in dismay, "What are you thinking?" she demanded, "not only are you nearly an hour and a half later than expected, but you're wearing khakis, and on top of the Admiral not being able to get hold of you on your cell, I'm glad I'm not in your shoes!"

A fatigued and exasperated Harm was in no mood to be criticised publicly by anybody, let alone by Mac, and was too tired to be tactful about it. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. If you've quite finished carping, let's go and see what the Admiral wants, and if he wants to ream me out, he's welcome!"

Mac bit her lip, she could plainly hear the unspoken 'but you're not', at the end of Harm's sentence, and his barb felt particularly undeserved, yes, she had been scolding, but it was done out of concern. And such a sharp reply was unlike normal Harm, who usually passed off such remarks with a light-hearted rejoinder. Searching his face for a clue as to the reason for his unusual behaviour, she picked up on the signs of fatigue, the double vertical creases between his eyebrows, and the increased depth of the creases at the corner of his eyes, as if he had been squinting in an effort to keep his eyes open. But still…

"Alright, Commander, we'll talk about this later. In the meantime let's go and find out what's so damned important."

Harm gave her a sharp look, "Yes, ma'am, Colonel, ma'am," he snapped out in reply and without waiting to see her reaction turned away to head for the Admiral's office.

**lxxii-lxxii-lxxii-lxxii-lxxii**

As Mac reported them in Admiral Chegwidden viewed Harm's travel crumpled Peanut Butters with a distinct frown, but he decided that he would defer any demands for an explanation until a later date, but for the moment he contented himself with a growled, "Did somebody change the dress code while I wasn't looking?"

Harm closed his eyes for a second before he answered, "No, Sir, I was on board ship when…"

"Leave it, Rabb, I don't think I want to know right now. Stand easy, and park your sixes," he waited until the two officers had seated themselves before he continued.

"Rabb, you will recall case of the Navy aviator who died on a Halo jump with Seal Team Two."

"Yes, Sir, very well."

"Considering that you had to take his place at short notice and with no training, I was pretty sure you would," Chegwidden grinned wolfishly, before he turned to Mac, who had an almost stunned expression on her face, "Before your time at JAG, Colonel. It was a messy investigation complicated by inter-service rivalry, and the fact that the dead aviator was the son of the honourable senator Grace Marion."

Harm nodded, he remembered the case only too well, it was his first and he fervently hoped his last high altitude low opening jump. It had been a thrill at the time, but in retrospect as far as he was concerned, once in a lifetime was one time too many. "That was seven, nearly eight years ago, Sir. We found the guilty party, but he committed suicide before he could be brought to trial… The senator made her peace, what else is there to…"

"If you give me a chance, Mister Rabb, I will explain. Last night a team from Second Marine Division Force Recon carried out a night training jump. First Lieutenant Arthur Musgrave the Third's parachute failed to open, he landed on and broke through the roof of a parked car on the edge of the training area. The car, the property of a Master Sergeant Kevin Riordan was occupied at the time by Riordan's daughter and her boyfriend, both under the age of eighteen, who were engaging in some quality time with each other."

Harm's grin was swiftly extinguished by a glare from the Admiral, while Mac's forehead creased in a frown, "Arthur Musgrave… I know that name from somewhere…" she mused in an undertone.

The Admiral nodded, "The junior senator from Arkansas, and also the Lieutenant's grandfather. Unlike Senator Marion, he is vehemently pro-military, and although NCIS are already investigating the mishap, he is insisting that it must not be left to a bunch of, I quote, and you'll like this, Rabb,' of washed up, superannuated ex-cops, and cop wannabes'! As a result of pressure from the hill the SECNAV has ordered a parallel JAGMan investigation, and has directed that you two are to conduct it."

He slid a very slim folder across the desk, "See Tiner for your itinerary and orders. Dismissed!"


	73. All Fall Down

**73**

**All Fall Down**

Harm received his orders and itinerary from Tiner, but then paused, and sticking his hand in his pocket he pulled out the keys to the pool car.

"Tiner, the next time you speak to your Buddy in the motor pool, tell him from me, that my idea of a decent ride does not include one that tops out at fifty-five miles per hour, got it?"

For a second Tiner thought that Harm was joking and looked up ready to make a quip, however there wasn't a vestige of humour to be seen in the Commander's eyes, nor on his tired face. Tiner instantly reversed his decision and concluded that on this occasion discretion was, indeed, the better part of valour, and contented himself with a succinct, "Yes, got it, Sir!"

Harm gave the Yeoman a level stare, which bordered on the edge of being one of dislike, before he grunted something that might have been "Good!"

Tiner shook his head, thankful that he hadn't tried to make a joke, an opinion in which he was reinforced by Mac's softly spoken, "Good call, Tiner," as she too stared in the direction in which Harm had disappeared.

It was fifteen toe-tapping and finger drumming minutes later that Harm appeared in Mac's doorway. He had changed into summer whites, and although he looked a little fresher, his eyes were red-rimmed. "Are you ready?" He demanded.

Mac took a deep breath, ready to upbraid him for his attitude and tone of voice, but before she spoke she recalled his previous response to her comment on his uniform, decided that in the interests of avoiding a full-blown argument in the middle of the bullpen that she would, for the moment, let him slide although she vowed to herself that she would get an explanation of his attitude, if not an apology for it. She stood, and grabbed her sea bag, "I've been ready any time this last twenty minutes."

"Good. I've had enough of motor pool vehicles this week, so I figure we'd take the Lexus. Here, you drive," he tossed the keys to her, but Mac was so surprised – Harm never let anyone drive any of his vehicles – that she fumbled the catch letting the keys fall to the floor.

Harm closed his eyes for a moment, in his mind the dropped catch did not seem like a good omen for Mac's driving his Lexus. He wasn't too keen on the idea to start with, but he was honest enough with himself to recognise that he was in no shape for a six hour plus drive to Camp Lejeune.

Harm seem to be oblivious of the concerned looks that Mac kept throwing in his direction as they loaded their bags into the Lexus and then settled themselves into the front seats. Mac was fully occupied for a couple of minutes in adjusting the seat height and position and the rear-view mirrors. The Lexus was bigger than anything she had driven since she had last driven a Humvee, and it took her a few minutes to get used to the handling of the vehicle as she negotiated the streets of Falls Church, heading for the Beltway at the junction of US-50.

**lxxiii-lxxiii-lxxiii-lxxiii-lxxiii**

By the time she turned south onto the Beltway she was feeling far more confident in her handling the vehicle, and risked a glance to her right to say something to Harm and felt a pang of alarm she saw that he appeared to be asleep or unconscious. For a moment or two she told herself that she was over reacting, but Harm's behaviour on his return to JAG, now coupled with what she hoped was sleep, but feared might be unconsciousness, were indicators of a possible concussion, although what he been doing to end up with a bang on his head she couldn't imagine.

Shaking her head, she couldn't entirely throw off the feeling that something was wrong, making up her mind she drew a breath, "Harm! Harm! Harm, wake up dammit!"

Harm blinked, "Wassamarrer?" He mumbled.

"Wake up, Harm, I need to speak with you!"

Harm struggled against the constraints of his seat belt as he tried to wriggle into a more upright position from where he had slumped. Blinking his eyes to clear his vision, he turned towards Mac with an irritated expression on his face. "What's so Goddamned important it can't wait until I've woken up properly or we reach Lejeune, whichever comes first?"

"You, you're what's important, you've been acting weird, short tempered, ever since you walked into Ops, and now you've barely been in the car, which you've let me drive, for the first time ever, barely been in the car but five minutes and you're falling asleep, you've got me worried, did you hit your head again?"

Harm snorted, but Mac couldn't tell if it was a snort of amusement or a snort of disgust. "Mac, what do you think I've been doing that would cause me to smack my head?"

"Dammit! Will you stop doing that!"

"Doing what?" Harm asked, by now having totally lost his grasp on the conversation.

"Will you stop answering a question with a question!" Mac snapped, on the verge of losing her own temper.

"Was I?" Harm asked.

"Yes, dammit, you were! And if you haven't hit your head, or nobody's hit it for you, why the hell are you being so short with everyone?"

"If I've been short with everyone, it's because I am tired. And I am tired because last night the VOQ at Norfolk was overflowing with captains and admirals, so I ended up in a broom closet with a cot that was too short, and too narrow to sleep across. So I woke up this morning, tired. Then I get recalled from Norfolk, all the way back to JAG, all the way from Norfolk to Richmond, where I sat in the mother of all gridlocks for nearly an hour, and then crawled all the way back north along the I-95. Then, when I get to JAG, all I get is grief, because I'm in the wrong uniform, and it's crumpled, then I get told, hey, you're going to Lejeune, all the way back down the I-95 to Richmond and beyond. Anybody with a brain cell could have told me over the phone to go direct from Norfolk to Lejeune and RV with you there. Where, in your normal inimitable fashion you could have given me a full, if second-hand, briefing."

Mac listened in growing disbelief, Harm might be labouring under a feeling of injustice, but to her ears he sounded like a sulky little boy having a tantrum because things weren't going his own way. Perhaps fortunately Harm took a breath and continued before she could make her opinion known.

"Then, on top of all that, I have to phone my pregnant wife, who was expecting me home tonight, and almost left her in tears when I explained that I wouldn't be able to make Gloria's funeral. Then I had to make an urgent plea to Loren, to keep an eye on Jen, and make sure that they got to the funeral on time, that Jen managed to get a seat, and generally to look after her. And then just to really make my day people start complaining because I'm a few minutes late."

Mac's brows knitted, as she seized on one aspect of Harm's explanation she hadn't grasped and decided to let his last barb - aimed at her - pass without comment., "Who's Gloria?"

Harm looked at her in open disbelief, "You have got to be kidding! Gloria, Gloria Heywood, late FBI agent, killed in the line of duty by Kozlovski, protecting Jen Loren and Sasha. Christ's sake Mac, you were there!"

Mac nodded "Yeah I was, but I don't think I ever heard her name." She sent Harm a glance that have more understanding in it than in any time since his return from Norfolk. "Missing her funeral, is a bum deal, and I am sorry about that. But the rest of it? Harm, you've been in the Navy long enough to know that they never do anything the easy way, so get that stick out your six, and suck it up squid!"

Harm glared across the width of the vehicle at her, but in his heart of hearts, he knew she was right. You didn't get to pick and choose your details, and sometimes promises of whatever kind had to be broken in the best interests of the service. But that still didn't stop him from feeling pissed off, and why did she have to be so Goddamned sanctimonious about it all of a sudden!

**lxxiii-lxxiii-lxxiii-lxxiii-lxxiii**

Mac drove on in silence, she just couldn't believe that Harm was throwing his toys out of his playpen just because his chain had been jerked. Who did he think he was? Trying to make everybody else's life miserable just because he was unhappy.

Harm was thankful for the silence, he really did not feel like indulging in another verbal battle with Mac, apart from everything else, his headache was beginning to get worse, and his eyelids were growing heavy again. Despite his best efforts he started to drowse, his eyes slowly closing, but even as they did so something about this assignment, something that had been niggling him since their briefing suddenly rose to the surface of his mind, and his eyes snapped open, "Mac!"

Coming as it did, straight out of the blue, his exclamation startled Mac, and she almost visibly jumped, causing the Lexus to waver from a straight line for a moment.

"Jesus, Mac, watch where you're going!"

"Your fault squid, you startled me!" Mac paused for a couple of moments until she could feel the hammering of her heart reduce, and in fairness to her it was the near loss of control of the vehicle that caused the increase of her heart rate, and not Harm's sharpness of voice as he called her name.

"Yeah, whatever!" Harm dismissed that topic to return to the idea that had jerked in awake in the first place, "in our orders, does it say what sort of jump? Do we know what's sort of aircraft? Because if it was a static line jump from a fixed wing bird, where did it take off from? As far as I can remember, there is no runway at Lejeune."

Mac pushed aside her irritation with Harm as she considered his words. "It's a long time since I've been to Lejeune, but I think you're right, and if so the nearest runway would be at New River…"

"Yeah, but that only concerns us if it was a fixed wing bird, and besides, aren't there about half a dozen Osprey squadrons at new River?"

"So?" Mac queried.

"If the Marines jumped from an Osprey, they could have quite easily emplaned at the Lejeune LZ," Harm pointed out.

"H'mm... I would expect Force Recon to have a parachute loft, and a parachute packing hangar, but would New River have those facilities? As you say it's mostly a helo and Osprey facility… Somehow I don't see them having large-scale parachute rigging facilities."

"Do Osprey crews even have parachutes?" Harm asked," because I've never seen a helo crew member with one!"

"You tell me, you're the pilot!" Mac couldn't resist a sly dig.

"Navy aviator, the Osprey is a Marine bird, you're the Marine!" Harm shot back.

After that little exchange silence resumed for maybe four or five miles, until Harm sighed, "Okay pull over to the side…"

"It's okay, Harm, I can manage the drive," Mac replied a trifle defensively.

"No, it's not that, Mac, but I need to check the file, and for that I need the interior light."

"Oh, okay…" Mac indicated right and slowed down, eventually pulling over onto the verge and letting the SUV roll to a halt."

Harm reached back to the middle row of seats and snagged his briefcase. He pulled the case file folder from its depths and quickly scanned the incident summary. After a minute or so he gave a grunt, "Damn, it was a C-130. That means a New River take off, which which complicates the investigation."

Mac twisted in her seat, as far as the seatbelt would allow "yeah, two locations; Pax at one location, bird at the other, and what we don't know is where the equipment was prepped."

"Yeah… But I'm almost willing to bet that Force Recon prep their own gear, and the chutes will have been packed at Lejeune."

"And then transported across to New River, leaving them vulnerable to tampering…"

Harm shook his head, "I don't see it, they would have been under escort…"

"And if NCIS are on scene, the first people they would have spoken to would have been the parachute packers and anybody who had anything to do with transporting the gear across to New River."

Harm nodded his head in agreement, "But so many questions, and so few answers…"

"No… We don't have many answers, they're all at Lejeune/New River…" Mac said suggestively.

Harm grinned as he took the hint, and reaching up turned off the vehicle's interior light, "if all our answers are at Lejeune or New River, why are we sat on the side of the road here?"

Mac shot him an exasperated look, which due to the now-dark interior of the vehicle, Harm didn't see, as she simultaneously turned the key in the ignition and re started the engine

**lxxiii-lxxiii-lxxiii-lxxiii-lxxiii**

Harm woke up the next morning, immediately conscious that the headache he'd hoped to banish with the aid of a couple of Tylenol had sneaked back during the night, and had redoubled its intensity, as if in revenge his countermeasures. Swearing softly under his breath, Harm propped himself up on an elbow and reached for the bottle of Tylenol on the nightstand. Shaking two more of the little caplets into his hand, he threw his head back, dropped the caplets into his mouth and swallowed. As the medications went down it seemed to him that they scraped the back of his throat as if they had been wrapped in a razor-wire. With a second muttered obscenity, Harm contemplated a week of misery, as he realised that he was starting a cold. Just what he needed on top of everything else, he told himself with savage irony.

Swallowing, again with difficulty, he checked his watch and decided that Jen would most probably be awake by now. He felt slightly guilty about not calling her last night, but it had been so late by the time they had arrived at Lejeune and had checked into the VOQ, and on top of that his head had been pounding fit to burst, so that he was barely able to manage a 'good night' to Mac before he had closed the door almost in her face, ripped his uniform off and climbed into bed.

Rolling over onto his back, he picked up his cell phone and pressed button number one on his speed dial menu.

"_Rabb house_," a still slightly sleepy voice told him when Jen picked up at the other end.

"Hey, sweetheart, did I wake you?" Harm said, or rather that is what he had meant to say, and was dismayed to hear his voice come out as little more than a croak.

"_Harm? Harm, are you okay_?" Jen's voice was full of concern.

"'M okay," Harm winced as he swallowed in a vain attempt to lubricate his throat, "jus' picked up a cold somewhere along the way…"

He was almost sure he heard Jen giggle at the other end of the line, "_Oh, you poor baby, just remember lots of fluids, and keep warm._"

"_What, no advice about medicines_?" he croaked, trying for a touch of sarcasm but failing miserably.

This time he was sure he heard a giggle, "_No, remember what they say about a cold: if you treat a cold, it will last seven days; if you leave it alone, it will last a week._"

"So no point in taking Tylenol?"

"_Don't be silly, sweetheart, although treating the symptoms has no effect on the virus, it does make you feel better. And that's important_."

"Well, thanks for that, anyway," Harm grinned.

Jen's voice lost its teasing note, "_I'm sorry sweetheart, but all I can do at this distance is try to make you feel better, even if you don't." She paused before she spoke again, "Is there any real chance that you can get back for the funeral tomorrow?_"

Harm shook his head, and then with a grin remembering that Jen couldn't see him said, "I don't think so, we haven't even spoken to the NCIS agents yet. We got in here so late last night that by the time we got settled I figured you'd already be in bed…"

"_Is that why you didn't call_?"

"Yeah, well, that and a pounding headache. I mean, would you believe I felt so bad and tired, that I let Mac drive the Lexus?"

If nothing else that scrap of news convinced Jen that Harm must really have been feeling under the weather last night.

"_Okay then sweetheart, I got to make a start on getting dressed for work. I'll call you this evening, just to see how you're doing, alright?_"

"Not really, I could stay here in bed all day just talking to you, but you're right, we both need to get a move on. I love you, 'bye."

"_Love you too_," Jen replied, and this time Harm had a suspicion that he could hear a sniffle.

**lxxiii-lxxiii-lxxiii-lxxiii-lxxiii**

By the time Harm had showered and dressed, he was under no illusions that he wasn't heading for a cold, and by the way he felt this early in its cycle he had a sinking feeling that when it hit full strength, it was going to be a doozy.

Had there been coffee making facilities in the VOQ he wouldn't have bothered dragging himself across to the mess Hall, but at least there, he could get what passed in the Marine Corps as coffee, and blessings of blessings, they even had oatmeal for breakfast; and oatmeal was about all he felt his throat could take.

Looking around spotted an empty table, and made his way towards it, determined to enjoy his solitary misery. Fate, it seemed had other ideas. Barely had he taken his first sip of coffee and was about to follow it up with his first spoonful of oatmeal, when Mac's voice, in a tone of slightly puzzled light amusement, broke into his solitude, "Hey, what's this, flyboy? You too good to call for me to join you for breakfast these days?"

Harm looked up and shook his head, "No," he croaked making an ineffectual attempts to wave her off, "got cold. Don' wan you t'gerrit," he tried to explain.

Mac paused in the act of sitting down and gave him a critical look "H'mm... You do look a bit off-colour," she commented as she smoothed her skirt beneath her.

Harm looked at her gloomily, "So, bes' no' si' 'ere." He told her.

"No point in that, flyboy, we still have to work together on this investigation and if I catch your cold, I catch your cold." She speared a slice of bacon on her fork, and took a bite from her toast, and then chewed and swallowed with every appearance of enjoyment. "M'mm, 'sgood" she murmured, and then grinned wickedly, "Besides, I'm never ill!"

Harm eyed her with acute dislike. It was true, and in his opinion considering her diet, it was also grossly unfair. If Mac wasn't exactly never ill, it was a very rare occurrence and she seemed to have the uncanny ability to shake off any infection within a day or two of its onset.

**lxxiii-lxxiii-lxxiii-lxxiii-lxxiii**

By the time Harm and Mac stood at attention in front of the CO of 2nd Marine Division Force Recon, Harm was sure he was dying, and wished that the process would hurry up and and get on with it. By unspoken agreement Mac was doing all their talking.

Colonel Brereton was not at all happy about having his morning interrupted or his office invaded by a pair of JAGs from DC, when there was a perfectly adequate SJA office at divisional headquarters, and all this on top of not inconsiderable disruption that followed in the wake of NCIS Agent Gibbs and his team. The fact that the two attorneys didn't seem to have received a proper briefing wasn't helping his mood either.

"So, tell me again, Colonel, why my unit should be subjected to further harassment, when NCIS is already on the case and throwing everything out of kilter."

"All I can tell you, Sir, is that the SECNAV ordered us here to carry out a joint investigation with NCIS."

Brereton looked at her almost as much dislike as Harm had sent her way across the breakfast table, "I should hope you know, as an attorney, that the defence,' I was only obeying orders' doesn't cut it any more, Colonel."

"With respect, Sir, I still have a career in the Corps, and I kind of like it."

Brereton grunted in grudging respect, and switched his gaze to Harm, "and what about you Commander, are you just obeying orders, too?"

"Yessir!" Harm mumbled.

Brereton gave him a suspicious look and with a world-weary shake of his head picked up his telephone and dialled a number. "Jackman, I'm sending you two JAG officers, give them a full briefing on the mission that resulted in Musgrave's death."

Brereton looked at Harm and Mac, "My S1 will see that you have the full mission profile, and will also see that you have everything you need. Dismissed!"

Mac and Harm filed out of Brereton's office and exchanged a speaking glance, but before either could say anything a captain sporting probably the highest and hardest buzz cut that either JAG had ever seen stepped out of an office door a little along the hall, "I'm Jackman, the S1, ma'am, Sir " he introduced himself rather brusquely, "if you'll just step into my office I'll do my best to answer your questions."

It was nearly twenty minutes later that they quit Jackman's office, but at least they hadn't wasted their time. Added to the case file in Harm's briefcase was the full mission briefing. The drop was to have been for a full capacity C-130, that is sixty-four fully equipped Marine paratroopers. One significant detail they had been ignorant of was that the crew of the aircraft were Navy personnel, all available Marine Corps C-130s were apparently deployed either in Iraq or in Afghanistan. The packing of the parachutes had been carried out by 2nd Force Recon 's own parachute riggers, in their own parachute loft. According to the mission schedule, the parachutes were loaded onto a truck and driven across to New River, where they were then distributed to the Marines who were to jump.

However, according to Jackman, only the first four Marines exited the aircraft. When the jump-master realised that there had been a parachute malfunction – he could see only three deployed 'chutes of the four he expected – he aborted the drop there and then, informing the pilot and advised him to return to base.

Harm read through the mission briefing, and a frown spread across his face, "Pers'nal gear," he swallowed painfully, "includes reserve… Why not pulled?"

Jackman shook his head, "Right now, we all have more questions than answers, Sir. NCIS have split their team, Gibbs and one agent are over at New River. He isolated the four men who jumped, and he's interviewing them over there. He's left one agent at the parachute loft checking over the returned 'chutes."

Mac bristled, Jackman hadn't quite thrown them out of his office but he had dropped a very strong hint that they were wasting his, and their, time which could be more profitably spent carrying out a more hands on approach to the investigation. She drew in a breath, about to remind him of who he was, and who she and Harm were when out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of Harm giving a gentle, negative, shake of his head.

With a courteous nod of his head and a tight lipped, "Thank you, Captain," from Mac, Harm stepped back and opened the office door, obviously waiting for Mac to exit the room.

Mac waited until they were out of the building and halfway across the parking lot before she halted and spun to face Harm, "What were you thinking in there! That… that... Jerk was insubordinate, he needed a new six ripping and a write-up!" she yelled furiously.

Instead of answering immediately, Harm held up a hand, while he dug frantically in his pants pocket with his other, finally pulling it out into view clutching a large white handkerchief. With his left hand still held up in a 'halt' signal, he clapped his handkerchief-filled right hand to his face, turned his head away from Mac and sneezed explosively.

It took a few seconds before he could speak again, and then it was only after he swallowed, grimacing with pain, as his throat objected. "Cap'n wouldn' speak to Colonel, C'mander, like tha' if he wasn' sure he gets back up from CO," Harm rasped in a hoarse voice.

The angry expression on Mac's face faded, to be replaced by one of concern, "You really aren't too well, are you? Are you sure this is just a cold?"

"Course 'tis, be be'er in coupla days!" Harm managed, and then with just the merest shadow of his usual grin he added, "C'mon Jarhead, we wastin' dayligh'!" But then his face contorted and spinning away from Mac he once again let loose an explosive sneeze.

Mac raised her eyes heavenwards in disgust. Why oh why, did Harmon Rabb suddenly have to turnaround and betray every male stereotype there was. Mac knew in the innermost fibres of her being that men were terrible patients, the first sign of a cold and they were convinced they were dying. But no, not Harmon Rabb. He had once joked with her that only two things could go wrong with a sailor, he could either be shot, or catch an STD. And as he wasn't bleeding, and his latest blood work had comeback clean, there was nothing wrong with him. Of course, that had been a scant half-hour before he collapsed with a temperature of 103, if she remembered correctly, and she was pretty sure she did.

So with one more shake of her head she grabbed him by the arm and hustled him across the parking lot towards the waiting Lexus. "Get in!" she ordered.

"Where we goin'?" Harm croaked, as she turned the vehicle to leave the Force Recon area.

"Taking you back to the VOQ." Mac said firmly, "have you got any meds back there?"

"Don' matter, not goin' to VOQ, head for 'chute loft!"

Mac's head swivelled to face him, a look of total disbelief on her face, "You have got to be kidding!" she almost yelled.

"Not kiddin', Wanna get this cleared up, sooner done sooner home! So, 'chute loft!"

"For God's sake! Of all the stubborn squids, you take the Goddamned biscuit! " Mac spluttered, but nevertheless threw the steering wheel over, and stamped on the brakes, swinging the Lexus into a tyre-squealing 180° turn.

However, by the time she reached the parachute rigging loft, just a few minutes later, she was already regretting giving in to what was, in her opinion, Harm's totally unreasonable behaviour. He was leaning back in his seat, his head canted over resting against the door pillar, his eyes were shut and he looked pale, but with a sheen of sweat coating his face.

Mac took in a breath, she knew what she was about to say would probably only irritate her infuriating partner, but it had to be done. "Harm, you're in no condition to work; you've got two choices, either I take you to the VOQ, or the base medical facility. Either way, I'm getting you into bed!"

Harm coughed and gave a little groan, "Red light, Colonel!" And attempted a follow-up grin which fell woefully short of his usual standard.

Mac grinned in spite of herself, as soon as the words had passed her lips she realised that she could have phrased her ultimatum in a better fashion and she had just known that Harm would not let such an ambiguous sentence pass without remark. Biting her lip to prevent her grin from becoming too broad, she injected as much seriousness into her voice as she was able, "So, what's it going to be, VOQ or hospital?"

"Neither," Harm ground out between his teeth as he opened the door and slid feet first out onto the tarmac. "We're here now, we migh 'swell get some wor' done…" He sneezed once more, and set off unsteadily towards the door in the end wall of the long, tall building.

With a muttered curse Mac jumped out of the Lexus, and with her heels beating out a staccato rhythm on the tarmac she hurried after her pigheaded partner!

She caught up with him just as he opened the door and stepped into the long, echoing space of the rigging loft. Mac saw that the room was essentially empty, with the exception of two tables that ran the full length of the room, above each of which ran a gantry from which parachutes could be hung. One of the tables was almost covered by a row of packed parachutes, that were being looked over by a shaven headed captain Marine Corps in BDUs, and a tall, slender, dark haired and civilian pant-suited woman maybe four or five years younger than herself. Both the Marine and the woman looked up slightly startled at the interruption, and Mac noticed that the woman's hand slid under the skirt of her jacket, at waist belt height, and realised that whoever she was, she was very probably armed.

The Marine Corps Captain stepped forward, a truculent scowl on his face, "This place is off-limits to unauthorised personnel… Ma'am, Sir!" He added the honorifics just in time not to be insubordinate.

"Stand down, Captain," Harm grated out, his voice much hoarser and therefore gruffer than usual.

"We are authorised personnel, Captain… Faul," Mac interrupted, as she peered more closely at the captain's name tag, "This is Commander Rabb, I'm Lieutenant-Colonel Mackenzie, we're from HQ JAG at Falls Church, and we're here to carry out a joint investigation with NCIS into Lieutenant Musgrave's death."

The slim brunette stepped forward an open smile on her face, "The senior agent is over at New River, but I'm one of his team; Agent Caitlin Todd, Kate for short," and smile broadened as she offered her hand in welcome.


	74. Rigging the Odds

**74**

**Rigging the Odds**

Mac accepted the offered hand, and gave its owner a brief, professional smile in return, "Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, JAG Corps, Mac, for short, and this is my partner, Commander Harmon Rabb."

Kate Todd turned towards Harm, who took a half pace back and raised his hands in an almost surrendering gesture, "Harm," he croaked.

Kate's face wrinkled in a frown and Mac stepped in, "It's okay, he's not being antisocial, if anything, it's my guess he's being overprotective again," and seeing that Kate's expression hadn't cleared, she added in a stage whisper, "bad cold."

Kate's frown disappeared as if by magic and a wicked grin appeared in its place, "Man flu?" she asked.

Mac shook her head, "Not this time, he really does have it bad, so if I were you, I'd take his advice and stay well clear."

Harm gave both brunettes a withering look, and bracing himself for the discomfort, he swallowed another mouthful of broken glass, "Am here! So, if finished making nice, what you got?"

The two women exchanged a glance brim full of amusement, and Mac got the sudden feeling that she might just have met a potential friend, but both women recognised that Harm was right; socialising would have to wait.

Kate turned and indicated the long, smooth, metal table. "The plane was due to have a full load of sixty-four jumpers, under the command of Captain Faul, here..." she indicated the shaven-headed Marine officer.

"And you are?" Mac turned her attention to him.

"OIC H and S Company, Second Marine Division Force Recon, ma'am," he replied smartly.

Mac noted the Parachute Rigger's wings on Faul's BDUs, "and directly in charge of the parachute rigging section?"

Faul shook his head, "No, ma'am, parachute riggers are eleven platoon, that's… That was Lieutenant Musgrave's platoon."

Before Mac could respond, Harm hastily spun on his heel, clapping his handkerchief to his nose and fired off three or four explosive sneezes one after the other. Turning back the other three, he shoved the handkerchief back into his pocket and blinked his red rimmed eyes, "Sorry," he said apologetically, but in a very hoarse voice. "Go on, Mac," he picked up his notebook and pen which he had tossed onto the second, empty, parachute packing table.

Mac returned her attention to Kate, "So, the table?"

Kate smiled coolly, "Yes, there were to be sixty-four jumpers, but only five exited the aircraft, these are the chutes of the remaining sixty, which were taken from the troopers and quarantined the minute the aircraft's wheels hit the tarmac. The captain and I just about to start the physical examination of them, to see if we could find any evidence of mis-packing that might have been repeated with the chute that Lieutenant Musgrave had."

"Find anythin'?" Harm gritted out.

Kate had spared him a glance as she shook her head, "Not yet, but we've only just really started…"

Harm sneezed again and sniffled into his handkerchief, and grinned apologetically at the others, "Cap'n Faul, no' qui'e clear on ty'e of jump..."

Faul looked at the NCIS agent and back towards Harm, clearly torn between wanting to get on with his inspection of the parachutes, and his obligation to answer to a senior officer.

Kate smiled reassuringly, "Go ahead, Captain, I can wait a minute or two."

Faul turned back towards Harm, "The mission envelope, Sir?" And in response to Harm's nod, he continued, "Two platoons of thirty-two men each, including platoon leaders. Lieutenant Musgrave was in command of his own eleven platoon, I was in command of an ad-hoc platoon made up of members of company HQ and spare bodies who needed to complete qualifying jumps. It was a full, simulated, combat jump, Every man carried a weapon, a simulated ammo, water, and ration load. Once we'd assembled at the rally point, we were to insert a single platoon into a wooded area eight clicks from the DZ, the second platoon were to form a forward operating base on which the first platoon could fall back if they were detected by the enemy. Lieutenant Musgrave was the number two jumper, in total five men exited the aircraft, but when the jump master only detected four deployed chutes he aborted the jump and the aircraft returned to New River."

"So you didn't actually see that Lieutenant Musgrave's parachute failed to open?" Mac asked.

"No, ma'am, I was halfway down the aircraft, the number thirty-three jumper."

Mac looked across at Harm, she most definitely did not like the way he looked, or the way he wheezed with every breath. Dipping her hand into her breast pocket she pulled out her card, and handed it to Kate Todd, "We'll leave you in peace now, agent. If you find anything, please call me, and let me know."

**lxxiv-lxxiv-lxxiv-lxxiv-lxxiv**

Just inside the hangar, and almost in the shadow of the C-130's wing, Gibbs eyed the four Marines stood rigidly at attention in a single rank in front of him, Sergeant Fuentes, Corporal Dafalmair, Corporal Ramsey and Corporal Brinkman. Behind each Marine stood his rucksack, with his deployed parachute and reserve parachute still inside it. On a table to the side of the hangar was a further rucksack, complete with a bloodstained harness, deployed parachute and reserve parachute that had been worn by the late Lieutenant Musgrave.

Gibbs, flanked by two Junior, agents moved towards the five men, but was intercepted by a burly figure in BDUs, and wearing a helmet with a jumper's head straps, "You NCIS or JAG?" he demanded.

Gibbs refrained from pointing out that the white letters on his ball-cap clearly showed who he was, answering with his own, sarcastic, question, "Do I look like a lawyer?"

First Lieutenant Ploszewski glowered at the grey-haired NCIS agent. Ploszewski was known, behind his back, to the men of H&S company as 'John Wayne' because he was rough, tough and didn't take crap from anyone, least of all was he inclined to take orders from civilians. He pointed at a formation of some fifty men on the far side of the hangar, "Word's out, all over the base, and you've got my men held here, they can even call their families to let them know that they weren't the one who died!"

Gibbs pursed his lips and nodded, "Was Lieutenant Musgrave married?"

Ploszewski nodded and replied in a truculent voice, "He has a wife and son."

"Notification detail should be talking to her now, word will get out who was killed," Gibbs said.

"Lieutenant Musgrave was my company, I'd like to see her."

Gibbs answer was uncompromising, "After we finished questioning you and your men."

"How long is that going to take?" Ploszewski demanded.

Gibbs gave a slight shake of his head, "I don't know," he said quietly, and the two Junior agents exchanged a swift but meaningful look, while Ploszewski looked at Gibbs in surprised silence for a few seconds.

"These men have another jump scheduled at twenty-one hundred!" he objected

"They're jumping again tonight?" The younger of the two Junior agents asked, his voice tinged with scepticism.

"We don't stop for casualties in war, and we don't stop for casualties in training," Ploszewski replied.

"Not true, Lieutenant. These men don't even jump off a lower bunk until we find out what happened."

Ploszewski's temper flared, " I don't take orders off NCIS cops," he said dismissively.

"Special Agents," Gibbs corrected him mildly, "and you'll follow this order," he continued, giving a slight shrug and dipping his hand into his coat pocket.

"Or what, Special Agent?" Ploszewski sneered.

Gibbs said nothing but pulled out his cell phone, and pressed a speed dial number.

And I don't take orders from your boss, either," Ploszewski persisted.

"Oh, I'm not calling my boss," Gibbs said disarmingly and then lowered the boom, "I'm calling yours," and then he spoke into the phone, "Commandant May? Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS…"

Ploszewski gave him a look of disgust, turned on his heel and walked away to rejoin his men. Gibbs let him go and then snapped his phone closed and turned towards the four Marines, who had made last night jump.

"I don't have the Commandant of the Marine Corps on speed dial," the older of the two Junior agents remarked.

"The Lieutenant didn't know that," Gibbs answered in an off-hand manner, and then drew a breath, "Right, DiNozzo, shoot and sketch, especially the static lines. McGee and I will start the interrogations."

DiNozzo vaulted onto the tail ramp of the C-130, and as he straightened up, he mused, "Jumping must be so cool…"

Gibbs stopped abruptly, and glared up at him, "Hey! You wanna play paratrooper, then pay your one hundred and eighty bucks and take the course, like all the other weekend warriors!" he snapped.

DiNozzo, however, refused to be intimidated, and as Gibbs and McGee walked away he stuck his head around the edge of the ramp housing, "Yeah, like I have so many weekends free!" he said sarcastically.

**lxxiv-lxxiv-lxxiv-lxxiv-lxxiv**

"Did Lieutenant Musgrave lead your stick?" Gibbs asked Sergeant Fuentes.

"Yeah," the Sergeant nodded, "I was number two, Dafalmair three, Ramsey four, Brinkman five. It was a standard static line door exit. The Lieutenant stood in the door, we got the green light the jump master yelled 'Go' and thumped the Lieutenant on the shoulder; he went, I followed him, that's the way it goes, y'know…"

Gibbs grunted something which might have meant almost anything

"After my chute deployed, I looked around," Corporal Dafalmair took up the tale, "I could see Ramsey and Brinkman's chutes above me, but only one chute below me, I didn't know whether it was Fuentes or Thumper."

"Thumper?" McGee interrupted

"Sounds crazy now, but that's what we called the Lieutenant, he was the platoon' s good luck guy," Ramsay added.

"Yeah, the guy was a regular walking rabbit's foot," Dafalmair confirmed.

"Thumper," McGee confirmed in disbelief.

"Yeah, he seemed to dodge all the bullets, I could tell you a million stories…"

"Why don't you just tell us one?" Gibbs said.

"Well Sir, he bought a new bike last week. A car ran a red light, he went over it straight through a plate glass window."

"Dinged his collarbone a little, "Fuentes supplied.

"Other than that, not a scratch," Dafalmair confirmed.

"Dinged it a little?" Gibbs asked sceptically.

"A day or two later, it was fine," Fuentes shrugged.

"H'mm... Who reached him first?"

"I did, Sir, I saw him Roman candle short of the DZ, as soon as I got out of my harness I took off to find him." Dafalmair said.

"What about you three?" Gibbs wanted to know.

"I got hung up in a tree, Dave gave me a hand. We saw Dafalmair yelling. We joined him," Ramsey answered as Dafalmair nodded his agreement.

"I was the last one out of the door, so I landed furthest away, by the time I got shot of my rig I heard the yelling and double timed across, I was the last one to arrive." Brinkman added.

"The way Thumper died, it was like a bad movie…" Dafalmair said.

"Was he dead when you reached him?"

"Yes Sir, died on impact..." Dafalmair answered, and swallowed, "I'm sure… I hope he did…"

"Why didn't he pull his reserve?" McGee asked.

Brinkman gave a half shrug, "Jumping from thirteen hundred feet… If your main fails to deploy, you have three, maybe four seconds to react."

"You're each going to need to prepare a statement describing what you saw and what you did," Gibbs said in dismissal, and then as the Marines instinctively turn to grab their gear, he added, "Whoa! Leave it! Your gear is now ours!"

The four Marines exchanged a look and then almost as if on an unspoken word of command returned to their left and filed off.

Gibbs and McGee watch them go, and while still looking in the direction they had gone, Gibbs said to McGee, " What did you get out of that?"

"He didn't have time to pop his reserve."

"Why not?" Gibbs persisted

"His reactions were too slow," McGee answered.

"Nuts!" Gibbs said scornfully.

"Dinged collarbone…" McGee said slowly.

"Injured clavicle hurts like hell, and takes more than a day or two to heal," Gibbs replied in confirmation.

"Sergeant Fuentes was lying?"

"He was if he knew Lieutenant was taking painkillers so he could jump." Gibbs offered.

"But, that's stupid!"

"No, that's Marines," Gibbs corrected his subordinate.

**lxxiv-lxxiv-lxxiv-lxxiv-lxxiv**

It had taken an argument before the MP on duty would allow Mac to drive the Lexus on to the airfield, so she wasn't in the best of moods, when she arrived at the hangar. The MP's intransigence, added to her concern over Harm's condition, which seemed to be worsening by the minute, only added to the aggravation she was feeling.

Braking the vehicle to a halt, and with a terse "Stay put!" to Harm, she slid out of the vehicle uneasily aware that in doing so she had expose rather more of her legs that she would have wanted to the appreciative audience of Marines. Ignoring the two sitting rows of parachute equipped Marines she approached one of the MP NCOs maintaining their quarantine, and snapped, "NCIS?"

The Marine MP Sergeant recognised an irate senior officer when he saw one and snapped to attention and saluted. "Inside the airplane ma'am," he instantly replied.

Mac returned the salute and wheeled around in the direction of the C-130 and almost bumped full tilt into Harm, "I thought I told you to stay put!" she snapped.

Harm's attempt at a grin was a total failure, "No' gonna learn anythin' sittin' on my ass," he objected, and then twisting violently away as he punctuated his words with another tremendous sneeze.

Mac briefly closed her eyes in a silent prayer for strength, and stepping up onto the ramp of the airplane, again realising that she was exposing far too much leg for her own comfort, she said aloud, "NCIS?"

The casually dressed man with greased back hair, lowered his expensive camera, and turned towards her, his eyes travelling slowly up and down her figure. "Who wants to know?" He said, almost openly leering at her.

Harm had hauled himself onto the ramp in time to see and hear the other man's reaction to Mac. Bunged up with cold he may be, but he saw and instantly recognised the danger signs in Mac's suddenly tensed jaw and narrowed eyes.

"C'nder Harmon Rabb, an' Lieudenan' Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, JAG Corps," he wheezed.

"Yeah, I'm NCIS, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, Tony " he smiled in what he thought was a winning manner as he ignored Harm, concentrating solely on Mac as he spoke, "So… What can I do to help you, Sarah Mackenzie?"

Mac suppressed a shudder, she had encountered the expression she saw on the NCIS agent's face many times before, it was the sort of smirk that men had while they were mentally undressing her, "For a start," she said in an ice-cold voice, "you can address me as Colonel or ma'am. Secondly, are you the agent in charge?"

DiNozzo looked taken aback, maybe even hurt for a second or two, but then he smirked again, "No, that would be Agent Gibbs."

Mac's somewhat uncertain temper was beginning to rise. On top of everything else, she would now have to cope with this would-be Lothario. "And where is Agent Gibbs?" She asked.

DiNozzo gave a careless shrug, "Who knows? He was interrogating some jarheads, over there…" He gave a nod in the general direction of where Gibbs had spoken to the Marines, "but he seems to have moved on…"

Harm sent what was meant to be a warning look at Mac, who seemed to be just about ready to erupt, "Any idea where he move' on to?" He asked the smirking NCIS man.

DiNozzo shrugged, "Beats me, Gibbs is Gibbs, he rarely tells anyone where he's going."

Harm put a cautionary hand on Mac's forearm as she took a step forward, "He got cellphone?" He asked DiNozzo.

"Yeah, course…"

"How 'boud you give him a ring, an' fide oud where he is?"

For a moment DiNozzo considered saying that he was too busy, but catching a glimpse of Mac's set face some instinct warned him that he had already pushed the attractive Lieutenant Colonel of Marines as far as it was safe to do so.

**lxxiv-lxxiv-lxxiv-lxxiv-lxxiv**

Gibbs and McGee had joined the NCIS ME, Doctor Donald 'Ducky' Mallard, in the mortuary at Camp Le Jeune's base medical facility. Ducky was a slightly peevish mood, having been dragged out of bed in the middle of the night and then faced with the six-hour drive down into North Carolina, and had sniffed disparagingly at the facilities available to him, although in truth they were almost as good as his specialised mortuary at the Navy yard.

He had several X-ray plates pinned to a wall-mounted light box, to which he pointed in turn as he spoke. "Our victim sustained a broken neck, crushed vertebrae, shattered pelvis, multiple leg fractures… All perfectly consistent with his whistling in"

"What about his clavicle?" Gibbs interrupted.

"With all this massive skeletal damage, you're worried about his clavicle?" Ducky answered Gibbs' question with a question of his own.

Gibbs grinned wryly, "Humour me."

Ducky took one of the plates off the light box to study it more closely, "Well, how did you know?" he asked in some surprise. "There's a fine hairline fracture on the left clavicle," he said indicating the injury with his little finger, "which he…"

"Incurred recently, but not last night?" McGee asked.

Ducky nodded, "Indeed, it's begun to mend…" He craned his head over his shoulder to look suspiciously at the two agents, "You two are beginning to scare me," he observed and anyone not knowing him would have suspected him to have been telling the literal truth.

"Ducky, would that fracture pain him much?"

"Nothing too severe, but the shock of a parachute opening would hurt like the blazes.… Hello," he added as the door opened, "I think you must have taken a wrong turning, this is a restricted area, authorised personnel only I'm afraid," he said looking over Gibbs' shoulder

"We are authorised personnel," Mac said tersely. "Commander Rabb, and Lieutenant Colonel Mackenzie, JAG," Mac introduced them briefly.

"The Commander and I have met," Gibbs replied with a nod towards Harm, and then returned his attention to Mac. "I'm Gibbs, this is Agent Tim McGee, and our ME, Doctor Mallard."

"Agent McGee, Doctor," Mac treated them both to a cool professional smile.

"That's Ducky, my dear," the doctor replied, his soft Scots burr sounding on the edge of his British accent.

Ordinarily Mac would have fired up at being addressed in such a manner, but there was something innately kind and non-patronising in the older man's speech, and she more or less instantly realised that for a man of his years it was very probably ingrained speech pattern that no amount of politically correct indoctrination could ever eradicate.

"Tim McGee, Colonel, Commander " the younger man added to his boss' introduction.

Mac once again did a swift summing up, McGee had a rather round face, with a rather guileless expression hovering on the edge of a nervous smile. A total contrast to DiNozzo, he kept his eyes on her face as he spoke to her.

"If we've all finished playing kissy-face," Gibbs interrupted impatiently, "perhaps you'd like to continue Doctor, you were saying that the jerk of the parachute opening would have hurt?"

"My word, yes. Yes indeed…" Then with an expression of intense interest he pointed to the x-ray and asked Gibbs and McGee, "Just how did you know?"

Gibbs glanced at Mac and Harm, but rather than answering directly he said, "The girl in the SUV said she heard him moan. Was he alive after impact?"

Ducky's face became solemn, "Very briefly." He turned and walked towards the body lying on the slab, the other four following him closely, only to take a half step back as he requested, "Not too close, please. I'll put it up on the monitor for you."

He positioned the video camera over the slab and fiddled with it for a second, letting out a gratified "ah..." as the screen came to life.

"He most certainly would have died from massive trauma, but the technical cause of death was the severing of the femoral artery…" He pointed to the torn blood vessel as Harm, Mac and the two NCIS agents almost unconsciously grouped closer to the monitor. "Yes, our young Marine bled to death."

Gibbs grunted and appeared lost in thought for a few moments before he turned to Ducky, "Have you got blood and tissue samples for me?"

Ducky gave him a long-suffering look "Give me five minutes, Jethro."

McGee winced, while Mac shot a startled look first at Gibbs and then at Harm. Gibbs himself showed no reaction, although he knew very well that Ducky never called him anything but Gibbs unless and until he was severely pissed off at the senior agent.

But once again eyes were drawn to the opening door and the moment passed. "Caitlin, my dear, how very nice to see you." Ducky was the first to respond to the newcomer.

A genuine smile passed swiftly over Kate Todd's face, "You too, Doctor Mallard."

The Doctor her side and smiled, "That's Ducky, Caitlin."

"What have you got?" Gibbs demanded brusquely.

Kate's face lost its smile, and she dipped her hand into the inside pocket of her jacket, retrieving a notebook which she flipped open. "Of the fifty-nine chutes we checked, no less than nine had shroud lines…" she paused for confirmation that she had the right term, and received a nod from Gibbs, and then continued, "that had been compromised and had either frayed completely or partially."

Harm winced, "One in six, thass way 'bove av'rage."

Mac sent Harm a withering look, "That's my partner," she said in terms of exaggerated patience, "A master at stating the blindingly obvious."

Harm glared at her, well as much of a glare as he could scare up through his red-rimmed eyes, "Jus' makin' sure we on the same page."

Gibbs nodded, whether in agreement with Mac or Harm neither could tell. "You bring samples, Kate?"

The female agent nodded, and indicated the fat brown envelope, sealed with evidence tape, that she had placed on the desk just inside the door. "The frayed ends of the shroud lines, each set from a different chute, all in separate evidence bags and all numbered and initialled. The numbers correspond to numbers given to the rest of the chute, which are now under lock and key in the restricted area of the parachute rigging loft."

Gibbs nodded, and turned back to Ducky, "Any nearer in getting those samples, Ducky?"

The doctor looked up from his work, "Patience, Jethro, patience. Everything comes to he who waits."

Gibbs snorted, "I don't do patience!" And glared at the ME, digging his hand in his pocket for his cell phone, and then snorting again as he realised there was no signal available. With an all-encompassing glare he turned on his heel and strode out of the mortuary.

Mac wondered over to the lightbox and frowned at the x-rays still in place. She was no doctor, but the mass of fractures were plainly visible to even the untrained eye. With a still-troubled expression on her face, she turned to the Doctor, "You were saying as we came in that something would have hurt?"

Doctor Mallard looked up from his sample taking and knitted his brows, but while he was trying to remember what exactly had been said, Tim McGee spoke up. "Lieutenant Musgrave had a fresh fracture to his collarbone, he picked it up a couple of days before he dropped, Doctor Mallard has confirmed that he could function more or less normally with it, and that had started to heal, but the jerk of the parachute opening…" He winced and shrugged his shoulders.

"Unless he had been popping painkillers." Gibbs interjected as he walked back into the room.

"If he was juiced up, that could explain why he couldn't react in time to pull his reserve…" McGee mused.

"Yeah, that was something that had Captain Faul and myself puzzled," Kate said.

"If you two have quite finished chewing the fat," Gibbs said acerbically, "we won't know how juiced he was until Ducky gets me the samples, and you McGee, rush them back up to the Navy yard, together with the shroud line samples, and get them into Abbey's lab!

"But… But that's better than a six-hour drive, boss, " Tim stuttered.

Gibbs tossed a set of keys at him, "Then you'd best get started. Take the number two car. Ducky? The samples?"

Ducky Mallard finished scrawling his signature across the seal of evidence bag, "There you are, young Timothy. Do try not to drop them."

"I won't, Doctor," the young agent blushingly replied. He looked at Gibbs, "Boss?"

"Are you still here, McGee?" Gibbs said sarcastically.

McGee gave him a reproachful look, and strode across to the door, careful to pick up the bulky envelope on the table.

Ducky also gave Gibbs a look, which contained more than just reproach. "Well, I haven't quite finished with our young Lieutenant, and what I have to do is likely to upset a stomach or two…" He looked meaningfully at Kate and Mac, "so I strongly suggest, that you find somewhere else to be." He gazed benignly over the top of his spectacles for a few seconds, and then added, "What? Are you all still here?"

Harm cast a nervous look at the body on the slab, and of the way that Ducky seemed to be hovering over it, a scalpel in his hand, "No, I gone."

"Yes! With me, straight to the pharmacy to get something for that damned cold!" Mac declared, thankful for a face-saving excuse to quit the mortuary before Ducky started his more detailed investigation of the corpse.

"Hey, waid a minidd!" Harm objected as Mac took him by the elbow the evident intention of frog-marching him to the pharmacy, "We need to dalk, Gibbs, where you gonna be?"

Gibbs fought down a grin that had its roots in schadenfreude as he listened to Harm's strangled delivery. "I told DiNozzo to meet us at Force Recon HQ building, the CO has allocated us the conference room for as long as we need it."

**lxxiv-lxxiv-lxxiv-lxxiv-lxxiv**

With a temporarily clear head, thanks to a pocket full of over-the-counter medicines from the hospital pharmacy, Harm walked almost cheerfully down the Hall with Mac to the door marked Conference Room. Mac exchanged a look with him, and with a one shouldered shrug open the door and stepped into the room.

The three NCIS agents, Gibbs, DiNozzo and Kate Todd looked up as the two JAG lawyers entered the room. Gibbs nodded, and jerked his thumb over his shoulder indicating the corner of the room, "Fresh coffee," he grunted. Mac looked at Harm who nodded, "I'll get them," he offered. Mac nodded in return and slid into a seat at the table.

Gibbs waited, an eyebrow quirked, as Mac took her first sip of the coffee, "Pretty good," she said appreciatively, "could do with being a little stronger, though."

Kate and DiNozzo exchanged a startled look while Gibbs grinned in appreciation, an honest grin of amusement, which for a few fleeting seconds softened his usual somewhat stern expression. "I see you appreciate good coffee, Colonel," he remarked.

Mac let a faint smile appear on her face and she inclined her head in acknowledgement of what she recognised as a Gibbs' style compliment.

Forewarned by Mac's endorsement of the brew, Harm took a cautious sip from his own cup, finding to his surprise that his cold had an up side in that he could barely taste the strength of the black liquid.

Gibbs settled back in his chair, and for a few moments stared at the two attorneys. "Just what is it that you two are supposed to be doing down here?"

"Joint investigation with you people," Harm replied.

"And what do you think you could find out that we can't?" Gibbs challenged him.

"Probably nothing," Mac interrupted before Harm, who had bristled at Gibbs tone, could say anything. "But with two teams asking the questions, we might get to the answers faster, and we might even get additional answers because we asked questions the other team didn't."

Gibbs pulled the corners of his mouth down, and then spoke, "Good answer, Colonel. Maybe we can work together after all." He looked around the table, "I understand you have already met Kate, Agent Todd, and this is… "

"We've met DiNozzo as well." Mac said flatly

Gibbs said nothing, but gazed speculatively at the other male agent, then he sighed and shook his head. "Did you see the scene of crime?" He asked.

Mac shook her head, "No, it had been cleared away and the body moved before we arrived."

Gibbs grunted, and opened a file, sliding it across the table towards Mac and Harm. The file contained more than two dozen photographs of the SUV with the body of Lieutenant Musgrave having penetrated the roof of the vehicle offered up to his lower chest.

Although no stranger to dead bodies, Mac found herself swallowing hard to keep the bile from flooding her mouth. "Not a good way to go," she said soberly.

"None of them are," Harm replied, and then picking up one photograph, he tapped it significantly with a finger, "These broken shroud lines, they are the reason you inspected the other chutes?" He asked Kate.

The brunette agent looked at the photograph, "Yeah, like I said we found nine other chutes with damaged shroud lines, and like you said that way above average, and can't be an accident. Captain Faul and I checked the riggers signature on the packing log for each damaged chute, four different signatures appeared, and neither he nor I believe that all for riggers would have, or could have missed that damage. The only explanation we've come up with is that the parachutes were tampered with after they'd been packed."

"Sabotage?" Mac asked.

Kate was about to reply when Harm interrupted, "I can't see it being anything else, but did Captain Faul remark that the damaged chutes were packed incorrectly?"

Kate looked thoughtful, "No, no he didn't."

Gibbs looked the length of the table at Harm, "Where are you going with this, counsellor?"

"If the chutes were sabotaged after they'd been packed, they'd have had to have been unpacked. And then repacked. If the second packing was done so that there was no evidence of tampering with the chute, then that argues that who ever sabotaged the chutes not only had access to a restricted area, but knew exactly what he was doing."

Gibbs pursed his lips, "You ever jumped, Commander?"

"I've done a couple of jumps, HALOs and ejections. Not quite the same rig as paratroopers use, but close enough, I think, so that I know what I'm talking about."

"That's good enough for me," Gibbs conceded, "Does anyone dispute the commander's reasoning?"

The silence that greeted his question was enough for the senior agent. "Okay, we've decided on the how, all we need to do now is find the who and the why!"


	75. Quiestionable Answers

**75**

**Questionable Answers**

Gibbs stood and moved towards the coffee machine in the corner of the room, he poured himself a fresh mug of coffee, sipped, grimaced, and turned back to his team, "DiNozzo, get out there, get someone to find Captain Faul, we need to speak with him some more."

"Sure, boss," he almost visibly preened at being selected for even that mundane task.

Gibbs took another sip of coffee, "Help yourself," he genially invited the other three, "like the Colonel said, it's not bad, if a little weak."

Mac turned towards Harm and raised an eyebrow. "No, thanks. I'm good," he answered with a not entirely fake shudder.

Mac pushed her chair back and rose from his seat, to replenish her own drink, "You don't know what you're missing," she quipped.

"Thank God!" Harm replied fervently, and then his eyes grew round, his hand dived into his pocket to reappear clutching a no longer pristine white handkerchief, and turning his head from the table he sneezed violently three or four times in rapid succession. Kate Todd wasn't quite sure she'd heard correctly, because the tall Navy commander was mumbling into his handkerchief, but she was almost sure she heard him mumble, "Oh Shit!"

Mac swivelled her head to look at Harm with raised eyebrows, and he, after blowing his nose, replied with a sheepish grin and a mumbled, "Sorry, everyone."

Then while Harm was fumbling in his pocket for his nasal inhaler, the door opened to re-admit agent DiNozzo, who in response to Gibbs questioning look, nodded, "On his way, boss," he smirked as he sauntered towards the coffee machine.

Harm took another sniff of his nasal inhaler, and popped a honey and lemon capsule into his mouth then looked at Mac. Some sort of silent message seemed to pass between them, an occurrence not unnoticed by Gibbs, or Kate Todd, and Mac turned back to look at Gibbs.

"Okay, we seem to have reached a consensus amongst us that we are looking at sabotage. How do you want to play this interview, are you treating Faul as a witness or as a suspect?"

"Hell, at this stage everyone's a suspect!" DiNozzo sneered from the corner of the room.

Mac twisted to her right and looked over her shoulder at the smirking younger agent, "I don't believe that my question was addressed to you, agent," she said calmly but with the reproof obvious in her voice. She turned back again towards Gibbs, "So, suspect or witness?"

Gibbs shot sternly impatient look at DiNozzo before he returned his attention to Mac," At the moment, Colonel, I intend to use him as an expert witness. Obviously, if evidence starts to point at him, I'll re-evaluate his position.

"_You'll_ re-evaluate his position?" Harm asked in a stuffed voice.

Gibbs grinned wryly, "I will, of course, take your view into account when formulating my opinion."

"Of course." Harm agreed genially but insincerely, understanding full well that Gibbs would make his own decisions no matter what he, Mac or the rest of his agents thought.

A knock at the door curtailed the inter-agency discussion as Mac responding automatically to the stimulus called "Come in!"

Faul closed the door behind him, straightened and took two pace steps forward, his eyes automatically going to the Marine Corps officer already in the room, as he halted and came to attention, "Captain Faul reporting as ordered, ma'am!"

"Stand easy, at ease, Captain. Take a seat," Mac invited him and indicating a chair at the end of the table. She waited until the Force Recon officer had seated himself, but still, she noted to her inward amusement, stiffly at attention.

"You were with Agent Todd, for the discovery of the damaged parachutes?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Would you say it was unusual to find such a high percentage of damaged parachutes in such a small sample?"

"Begging the Colonel's pardon, but I'm not quite sure what she means." Faul said, apparently ignoring the glances exchanged between the other five people at the table.

"I mean, that nine – ten if you include Lieutenant Musgrave's chute – seems a high number, when you consider that only sixty-four chutes were packed."

"No ma'am, I do not consider it to be an unusual occurrence, I consider it to be a statistical impossibility, especially taking into account that all of the damaged parachutes had the same type of damage, and they were packed by different riggers."

"Yes, tell us how that works," Gibbs invited.

Faul shrugged, "The orders come in, requiring so many chutes to be ready at such and such a time, and the riggers turn to and pack them. Each rigger signs the chute's logbook, showing who packed it, and the time and the date."

Harm opened his mouth to speak but then coughed, and held up a finger, asking for a moment until he could articulate clearly again. The fit of coughing finished, he swallowed, and rubbed his throat, "Wha' happens to chutes after they' packed?"

"They are left on the packing tables until it's time for them to be taken to the AP." Faul replied.

"AP?" Mac queried.

"Assembly Point, ma'am. In this particular case they were collected at seventeen hundred hours, loaded onto a truck and driven across to New River, ma'am."

"So… Once they were packed, anybody has access to them?"

"No, ma'am! We don't take chances… Or at least we try not to take chances. As we saw last night, men's lives depend on those chutes. Once they are all packed, and ready for collection, the rigging loft is locked, and nobody except authorised personnel is allowed access, or even has a key to the loft."

Gibbs nodded, much of this was already known to him from his own days as a Marine, but he figured that the civilian agents, and maybe even the two JAG officers would benefit from hearing this. "And just how many people are authorised and do have keys?" he asked.

"I have a key, not because I'm a rigger, but because I'm company OIC. Lieutenant Musgrave had a key, as does his Gunnery Sergeant, Gunny Jackson, and of course the NCO riggers, Fuentes, Brinkman, Dafalmair and Ramsey."

Harm painfully cleared his throat again, "By your own admission, the chutes that were damaged, couldn't have been damaged by accident, or wear and tear. Unless there was a conspiracy between the riggers to overlook damaged shroud lines; and that only really leaves us one alternative doesn't it, Captain?"

Falls shifted uneasily in his chair, "Yes, Sir. And I hate saying it, but the only alternative left is sabotage. After packing, the chutes were locked in the loft. The loft wasn't broken into, so whoever damaged those chutes had a key. It turns my stomach to think that one of my Marines would sabotage vital equipment like that."

"You seem to have given this some thought," Gibbs remarked, fixing his penetrating gaze on Captain Faul.

"I took my bachelor's in math, Agent Gibbs, to do that, you need to be able to think logically. Working this out was a whole heap easier than working out a simultaneous equation!" Faul said scathingly.

"Where did you go to College, Captain?" Mac asked in an interested tone of voice. She already knew the answer from reading his SRB, but figured it wouldn't hurt the others around the table to realise that they were dealing with an intelligent man.

Faul looked at her suspiciously, he couldn't see what possible use that information could be, but with an internal shrug he answered "Colombia, ma'am."

Kate Todd looked at him with renewed interest, "With an evening jump on the schedule, what time were the parachutes collected from the loft?"

"At seventeen hundred hours, ma'am, that's five…"

"Thank you Captain, I understand the military clock," Kate smiled, and then glanced down at her notebook. "I see that the latest chute to be signed off was at eleven forty-eight hours. So that would give our saboteur just over five hours to do the damage. We saw that some of the rigging lines would totally severed others were badly frayed, but none of them looked as if they'd been cut."

"No, ma'am, if we found just one line in that condition, I'd have put it down to textile fatigue, and swapped it out, there were just too many damned lines…"

"Your time frame is a bit off, Kate," Mac contributed, "it's beginning to look to me as if some sort of slow acting agent was used to damage the lines, and assuming the jump went ahead on schedule…" She looked inquiringly at Captain Faul, who nodded to indicate that was the case.

"Then whatever was used had just over nine hours to achieve its effect."

"But we won't know what it is, and what we're looking for, until Abby works her magic." DiNozzo volunteered earning him a scathing look from Kate Todd.

"It's science, Tony, not magic. Just because you don't understand it, it doesn't mean that there is some sort of supernatural agency at work!" She refuted him.

Gibbs leans back in his chair and let a lazy half grin show on his face as DiNozzo blushed, and then shoved his lower lip out in a pout that forcibly reminded Mac of AJ Roberts when he wasn't getting his own way. But what struck her more forcibly, and again a silent conversation with Harm revealed he felt the same, was that Gibbs did nothing to stop the sniping between his two juniors. An activity that both Mac and Harm would step on heavily, if it ever occurred between junior officers at JAG.

"What about tonight's jump?" Captain Faul asked.

Gibbs pursed his lips and shook his head, "No, no jump tonight, I have sent word to release your men, so they can go home and reassure their families that they're still in one piece, you'll need to reschedule for tomorrow. And if it's any added comfort, I hope we will have this cleared up by then."

"Yeah?" Faul demanded sceptically.

Gibbs nodded complacently, and with an assurance he was far from feeling, he answered, "Sure, with only half a dozen of you able to get to the packed parachutes, I reckon whoever did it will confess once we start one-on-one interviews."

Once again Mac and Harm exchanged a surprised glance, noting even as they did so that neither Kate Todd nor Tony DiNozzo seemed at all put out by Gibbs' confidence. Not so Captain Faul, and although carefully refraining from saying anything, he looked his disbelief at the NCIS lead agent.

Mac took a sideways glance at the Force Recon officer, and then to Gibbs' amusement, she had a further quick, silent, conversation with Harm.

Turning her attention to Gibbs, she asked "is there anything further you want to ask Captain Faul Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs shook his head, and smiled lazily, "No, not at the moment, although I may want to speak with you later."

Mac acknowledged Gibbs' words with a half-smile, and a cursory dip of her head. "Thank you, Captain for your time today, but I think we will need to speak with you again."

"Just one more question, for the moment," Harm croaked, "did you know Musgrave was injured before he jumped?"

Faul shook his head, "if I would have known that, Sir, I would have taken him off off the roster myself!"

"Okay, Captain, dismissed." Gibbs said offhandedly, but with a warning glance at Harm and Mac.

Captain Faul shoved back his chair and stood, bracing in the attention position for a couple of seconds before addressing himself to Mac, "Ma'am, yes ma'am!" and turning, left the room.

Mac and Harm waiters until the door closed behind Captain Faul again, before they again exchanged looks, and Mac resumed her role as spokesman for the pair, "So, how do you want to play this, Agent Gibbs?"

"How do you mean, Colonel?"

Mac gave him an unfriendly stare, "I mean," she said with exaggerated patience "that we have six suspects and or witnesses to interview and there are five of us…"

"Seeing as how we don't have a proper interview facilities, I figured I'd just sit down with one after the other and ask them questions."

Mac nodded, "and in the meantime we were to…?"

"Hadn't really thought through that far yet," Gibbs said ruminatively, "but I'm sure you can think of something constructive to do."

Mac bristled, I was on the verge of telling Harm and the two junior NCIS agents to leave the room so she could tell Gibbs exactly what she thought of his suggestion, but just in time she realised that for some reason or other, probably best known unto himself, but he was testing her, and perhaps to a lesser extent Harm too. She nodded, "Yes, I think our time," she included Harm with a casual gesture of her hand, "would probably be best spent supervising you."

Gibbs' crack of laughter almost drowned DiNozzo's gasp of disbelief, while Kate Todd's face mirrored exactly her feelings of surprise and trepidation, while Harm disguised his laughter by coughing into his handkerchief.

Gibbs shook his head in disbelief at his own gullibility, "I guess I asked for that, Colonel," he chuckled.

"You asked for a hell of a lot more than that, just think yourself lucky that I'm in a good mood!" Mac replied, not giving an inch.

Kate Todd leaned towards DiNozzo, "I know somehow you have already pissed her off, and somehow you're still alive. But, she says she is in a good mood, so maybe that explains it! So if I were you, I'd wind my horns in." she whispered.

Harm might be suffering, but there was nothing wrong with his hearing He grinned a bleary, red-eyed, weak version of his normal smile and said, "That's good advice, Agent DiNozzo; and I speak from experience when I say it's well worth heeding."

Mac may not have heard Kate's aside, but long acquaintance with her partner led her to the right conclusion, "Are you complaining about me, again?" she asked with a quirky grin of her own.

"Nah, just endorsing some sound advice I overheard," Harm answered.

Gibbs' eyes creased corners of his mouth twitched slightly, indicating his amusement at the back-chat, but, "Okay, if play time's over, how do you want to handle the interviews, Colonel?"

"In pairs?" She suggested, and then with the sidelong glance at Harm, continued, "you and me as one pair and Commander Rabb with…?"

Gibbs pursed his lips while he considered Mac's suggestion, "With Agent Todd, keep the team's balanced. DiNozzo, you can maintain a watching brief over both sets of interviews. Commander, if you take Faul, Fuentes and Brinkman, the Colonel and I will handle the others."

It took very little time, thanks to the S-1 who promptly organised the use of two adjoining offices in the Force Recon HQ building.

Harm looked across the table into Corporal Ramsey's eyes, "For how long had you known Lt Musgrave?" He asked having gone through the preliminary formalities.

"For just about two years, Sir. I was here when he rotated in and took over the platoon."

"What sort of officer was he?" Harm demanded.

"Finestkind, Sir. He was a come on."

"A come on?" Kate Todd queried.

"Ayuh, there's two kinds of officers, ma'am. There's the go ons and the come ons. Lt Musgrave was one of the come ons, and guess which ones are the better officers?"

"Thank you, Corporal, I think I get the picture now." Kate responded with a smile.

Harm nodded, "Apart from that, what was he like, was he a hard-ass… uh…" He shot an apologetic glance at the female NCIS agent, "Was he a hard-nosed type? You know the sort I mean, always writing guys up for very little reason?"

Ramsey shook his head, "No, he didn't write guys up much at all. He kept us in line, sure, that was part of his job. But he had unofficial official ways of dealing with situations that wouldn't leave a permanent record on a guys page eleven, unless he had to, of course."

"Official, unofficial? Like EMT, or incentive PT?"

Ramsey shook his head again, "Nuh-huh, different; Dafalmair screwed up a month or so back, wasn't too bad really, but he turned in a sloppy bit of work, and the Lieutenant wasn't having any of it, not for a moment, so he suspended Dafalmair from rigging duties for two weeks, with a warning that next time it would be a month, and his rigger's pay would be docked."

"How did Dafalmair take that?" Kate asked.

"Well, he weren't too happy about that, ma'am."

"Was he unhappy enough to mess with the Lieutenant's chute?" Harm asked.

"Nuh-huh... Dafalmair sometimes talks a bit big, but I don't see him rigging someone's chute to malfunction, besides how would he know which chute to mess with."

"What you mean?" Harm asked.

"Once the chutes are packed, they're left on the rigging tables until they're taken to the AP, and then they just handed out off the back of the truck to the next guy in line. I reckon it would be just about impossible to give anyone a particular chute."

Kate looked thoughtful moment or two for she spoke, "And so, the odds on the intended victim getting the right chute, or the wrong chute, on this particular occasion would have been sixty-four to one, pretty long odds, wouldn't you say Corporal?"

"Yes, ma'am, a chute messed with to fail like that could just as easy end up on the bad guy's Buddy, as the guy he was gunning for."

"But that wouldn't matter, would it? Because you all jumped with a reserve chute, and even from 1500 feet if your main chute failed to deploy you still have time to pull that reserve… Unless something stops you from pulling it. Corporal Ramsey, you knew that Lieutenant Musgrave had injured his collarbone, do you know if he was taking anything for it?"

"Yeah, sure I knew, we all knew, but it was just a couple of candies," Ramsey answered with an almost shrug stop

"Candies?" Once again Kate asked for clarification.

"Vicodin, pain-killers," Harm said tersely, "Marines are always getting themselves banged up, and unless there's something broken or they're bleeding a lot, they tend to take a handful or two of Vicodin or something similar until the pain goes away, one way or another."

Kate looked suspiciously at Harm, his explanation sounded just a trifle too pat her liking, it was too similar to what Gibbs had said back in the hangar. She switched to attention to the Marine NCO, "That right, Corporal?"

"Ayuh, just about, ma'am. If a Marine went on sick call every time he got a hang nail, there would never be no work done."

Harm gave Kate a look that plainly said, 'let's get back on track.' "You said you all knew that the Lieutenant was popping pain-killers, would you have figured that he was taking so many that he wouldn't have been able to react fast enough to his main chute failure?"

Ramsey was silent review moments as he considered Harm's question, but eventually he shook his head again, "No, sir. I wouldn't bet on that in any event, Thumper was too good to mis-judge the dose. He would have taken just enough to take the edge off, no more."

"So if he wasn't too impaired to pull his reserve… Why didn't he?"

Ramsey looked at both Kate and Harm helplessly, "I don't know Sir, I just don't know."

"You say that when you jumped, you landed in a tree? Didn't you get banged up some?" Harm asked.

"Yes sir, my legs took the worst of it, I got some pretty deep cuts and scratches on them."

"Go on sick call?"

Ramsay grinned slightly self-consciously, "No, sir, stuck a coupla Band-Aids on the worst cuts… and took a coupla Vicodin."

Harm looked almost helplessly at Kate, before he commented, "That's more or less what I figured you'd say! But by the time Sergeant Fuentes helped you out of the tree, Corporal Dafalmair had already reached Lieutenant Musgrave; how long do you reckon he was with the Lieutenant before you and Fuentes got to them?"

Again Ramsey had to stop to think, but eventually answered, "I really can't say for sure, sir, I guess it must have been three, maybe five minutes, we weren't wasting any time once we heard Dafalmair yelling. It was pretty intense when we got there Sir, Dafalmair was yelling, the girl was screaming, her punk kid boyfriend wasn't being any help, he was too busy complaining about the blood all over him."

"So, Corporal Dafalmair was never alone with the body?" Kate asked.

"No, ma'am," Ramsey answered, "the two kids were there all the time, and Dave, that is Sergeant Fuentes, he called in the incident to the MPs, and they came straight out. And we were all held there until NCIS arrived, nearly seven hours."

"How did Captain Faul react to that?"

" He was pretty angry Sir, from what I could see, he and the Lieutenant always got on pretty good."

"I see, but how did he react to all of you being kept at the scene?"

"Well it seemed like he didn't like it much, but he never said anything about it that I could hear."

"Thank you, Corporal. Do you have any further questions Agent?" Harm added, remembering in the nick of time that this was supposed to be a joint interview.

Kate thought she heard all she needed from Corporal Ramsey, and was happy enough to take her lead from Harm, "No, not at this time."

Harm and Kate waited until Ramsey had left the room. Kate looked at Harm, "it's beginning to look bad for Dafalmair," she commented.

Harm didn't disagree, but he wanted to hear the NCIS agent's reasoning, "How so?" he asked.

"He had motive – payback for being suspended from duty for two weeks, he had the means – he is a parachute rigger and would know how to sabotage the chute, he also knew that the Lieutenant was taking painkillers, and he had the opportunity."

"That's a pretty weak motive," Harm objected, playing Devil's Advocate, "the means… Well we heard from Ramsey that the allocation of chutes is random, which, by the way, would explain the shot gun technique used…"

"Shot gun?" Kate asked.

"Yeah, by doctoring ten chutes, whoever is responsible reduced the odds of getting the desired results from sixty-four to one to six point four to one. That's a whole lot better odds in my book."

"Point taken," Kate agreed.

"Yeah," Harm continued but it is still a haphazard way; just suppose that all the doctored chutes had gone to people other than Musgrave, and the whole plane load had jumped there is gonna be some pretty scared, pretty angry Marines once they hit the ground the at the end of their reserve chutes, and chances are that they would have taken that fear and anger out on the riggers. And anyway, relying on Lieutenant Musgrave taking so many Vicodin that he'd be impaired, that's one hell of a stretch, Agent."

"What else have we got?" Kate asked.

"That's just it. We've missed something."

**lxxv-lxxv-lxxv-lxxv-lxxv**

"Dammit! We're missing something, something that will probably turn out to the obvious when… or if… we discover it!" Gibbs stormed at the end of the debrief that the two teams had held once the interviews have been completed.

Mac nodded her agreement, "It seems such a... haphazard method of killing somebody. They don't stand in formation to get their chutes, they're just tossed off the back of a truck to them… How could anybody know who was going to get a doctored parachute, and how would anybody know that Lieutenant Musgrave would be so dosed up his reactions were off…" She looked thoughtfully at Harm who had just tossed another handful of cold medication tablets down his neck, "Harm, I know that's cold meds that you're taking, but are they making you feel drowsy or sleepy?"

Harm by this time was fighting a losing battle with his cold, the first beneficial effects of the medicines were fast wearing off and repeated doses seemed to have little effect, and as his discomfort grew so he was slipping into apathy. What he wanted was a quick end to this investigation and a night under as many blankets as he could lay his hands on to sweat the infection out.

"No, nod slee'y" he grunted in reply.

Mac turned back to the trio of NCIS agents, "Proves my point, anybody looking at him would say he was half asleep, especially if they'd seen him swallow that handful of pills as if they were candies."

Gibbs looked from Marine to Sailor, "Yeah, you do have a point… I guess we could speculate all night, but the only thing we've got is a half-assed suggestion that Dafalmair had a grudge against Lieutenant because he was suspended from rigging duties. But according to Brinkman it was Sergeant Fuentes who reported his sloppy work to the Lieutenant, and it was with Fuentes that Dafalmair had heated words so much so that punches were thrown, and according Dafalmair once they bruised each other up some, all was sweetness and light again."

"That would make more sense, though, wouldn't it, boss?" DiNozzo asked, "I mean if you have a beef with a guy at work, you might punch him out, but killing him? Nope, I just don't see it, it doesn't make sense."

Kate Todd looked at him in disbelief, "Tony, we have no other leads… Where else can we look?"

Gibbs twisted in his chair to face the female agent, "Tony is probably more right that he guesses, these guys have all gone through the same mill at Fort Benning, it doesn't matter really to them whether a paratrooper is army, air force, or Marines, hell, they even treat foreign paratroopers as brothers."

"An', don' you forgedd duh look on Dafalmair's face when we ask' him aboud what he saw ad duh impact side," Ham snuffled.

"Yeah, he did look pretty sick," Kate admitted.

"I guess most paratroopers would," DiNozzo added musingly.

"Yeah, you got that one right," Gibbs grunted as he stood. "I don't reckon we can get much further until we get word back from Abby. Maybe that'll open another line of investigation, until then all we've got is the flimsiest of circumstantial evidence against Dafalmair." He turned to Mac.

"What do you reckon Colonel, could you convict with what we've got?"

"Gibbs, with what we've got we couldn't even get an article thirty-two convened."

"That's about what I figured," the grey-haired NCIS agent agreed, "So, it's getting late, why don't we call it a day, and we can meet back here at zero eight hundred hours; Kate, you'll need your laptop, and DiNozzo, you won't be here. You need to get to the supply a section, and get fitted with BDUs and paratrooper's helmet. You wanted to play paratrooper; you're getting your wish! You're having a crash course at jump school!"

Mac was still chuckling at the horrified expression on the young agent's face over an hour later as she stood under the shower in the VOQ. She was also still amused at the change in Harm. From his defiant 'I am not going to be beaten by this damned cold' attitude of earlier in the day he had almost literally begged the Petty Officer at the VOQ's bedding stores for extra blankets to shiver under. He had looked grossly offended at any mention of food, and had announced his intention of crawling between the sheets at the earliest opportunity.

Nevertheless and despite her flash of schadenfreude at Harm's expense, Mac made a promise to herself to check on him after she had eaten and before she turned in for the night.


	76. Breaching Walls

**76**

**Breaching Walls  
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The next morning it appeared that Harm's self-treatment had been at least partially successful; his throat no longer felt like he was swallowing broken glass every time he spoke and his nose was no longer so blocked that he was forced to breathe open-mouthed, but his appearance was still a far cry from his normal ebullient self, his eyes looked heavy and red-rimmed and he had frequent recourse to an inhaler.

But he managed to haul himself out of bed, into the shower and then across to the Mess Hall, where he surprised Mac by joining her at the table, although his choice of breakfast brought a groan of disgust from the Marine officer, "God's sakes Harm, oatmeal is bad enough, but muesli? That's just cold oatmeal!"

Harm glared balefully across the table at her, and then pointedly dropped his eyes to her plate, loaded with toast, two eggs, bacon, sausage links, mushrooms and hash browns. "Maybe it is just cold oatmeal," he grudgingly conceded, "but in twenty years down the road, my arteries will be thanking me!"

Mac speared a bacon-loaded piece of toast on her fork, and dipped it into an egg yolk, but paused before she conveyed it to her mouth, "Harm, Harm, Harm, life is for living, not enduring. We only get one life, so we should enjoy it while we can!" she said with a sorrowful shake of her head, but with a teasing glint in her eye.

Harm eyed her sourly, "I'll make a deal with you; you enjoy your life the way you want to, I'll enjoy life the way I want, okay?"

Mac chewed for a few seconds more, swallowed and then shrugged, "Okay by me, but it's your life you're sucking the joy out of."

Harm looked at her expressionlessly for a moment longer, and then raised a spoonful of muesli to his mouth with every appearance of immense enjoyment.

Mac looked back at him her eyes dancing with amusement, and Harm was almost sure, if it hadn't been an impossibility, that the squared-away Lieutenant Colonel of Marines giggled.

While they finished their breakfasts Mac surreptitiously gave Harm a visual inspection. She had called in on him after dinner last night, to find him gulping down a glass of hot honey and lemon drink, while shivering under a mound of blankets. She was forced to concede that he did look better, his voice was clearer, but there was that inhaler...

"You're sounding much better this morning, you don't sound anywhere near as nasal as you did yesterday, so… what's with the inhaler?" Mac asked as they walked together towards the Force Recon HQ building.

Harm nodded, "Yeah, I'm feeling much better, I think the sneezing is stopped, I will be coughing for a few days yet, other than that it is just my damned sinuses that are blocked, maybe they'll clear up today, or tomorrow…" he added hopefully.

"Not hope!" Mac said cheerfully, "you know a cold always lasts a week, and you'll be coughing for another week after that. Guaranteed!"

"Huh! You really are a ray of sunshine, aren't you!"

This time, it definitely did sound like a giggle.

**lxxvi-lxxvi-lxxvi-lxxvi-lxxvi**

By the time the two JAG officers reached the conference room NCIS Agents Gibbs and Todd agents, together with their seemingly permanently-attached mugs of coffee, and their ME, were gathered around the table where Kate Todd was setting up her laptop computer while Gibbs was talking on his 'phone, "McGee, tell Abs to get on-line and hooked up with Kate's laptop. Got it? Good!"

Apparently satisfied with the response he got, the senior Agent turned towards the computer and his eyebrows climbed, "What, you haven't got it going yet?" he peremptorily asked Kate.

"Gibbs," she sighed with the air of one who has explained this many times before, "This isn't like an electric light, that you can flip a switch and it comes on. It has to boot up and then find the network, remember..."

"Uh... yeah, but if you know that, you should have gotten here earlier!" Gibbs snapped at her, and then turned his head to glare at Doctor Mallard who had coughed gently and was giving Gibbs a reproving look accompanied by a sorrowful shake of his head. The two older men locked gazes for long seconds until Gibbs finally dropped his eyes and turned back to stare at the computer, the screen of which had come to life.

Harm stared in disbelief, the screen was filled with a close-up of a young woman in a white lab-coat worn over a black mesh t-shirt which revealed a white tank-top beneath it, her obviously dyed black hair gathered into two bunches high on the sides of her head. She also wore vivid red lipstick, and heavy eye make-up, but what really grabbed his attention was the spiked dog-collar she wore around her neck.

"Hey, Gibbs!" she said cheerfully.

"You got my tox screen results, Abby?" Gibbs asked without any greeting or other preamble, causing Mac and Harm to exchange a look of surprise at Gibbs' lapse in courtesy.

However the young woman at the other end didn't seem at all fazed, and promptly became all business, "The victim tested positive for Percocet and Vicodin; double your pleasure, double your fun," she quipped.

"What kind of levels?" Gibbs demanded tersely.

"Point one seven, he was slow juiced like a koala bear. My guess is he popped right before he dropped."

"The Marines we questioned in his string probably knew," Gibbs murmured in an aside to Kate Todd, but loud enough for Mac and Harm to hear.

"So, why didn't they tell us?" Kate asked.

"Semper Fi!" Abby interrupted, and with a quirky grin added, "you rat, you fry."

Gibbs made no reply, neither did Doctor Mallard, but their silence and disapproving looks were enough to bring a muttered, "Sorry," from Abby.

Gibbs nodded an acknowledgement, and turned to Kate," His reserve chute alright?"

"Perfect, all he had to do was pop it," Kate replied.

"Maybe, if his reflexes hadn't been slowed by opioids," Abby contributed.

"Opioids?" Mac queried.

"A generic tern for opiates and synthetic analgesics," Kate answered.

Her explanation brought an enthusiastic endorsement of "Go Kate!" from the Goth forensics technician.

Kate smiled an acknowledgement of the compliment and then quickly re-capped her thoughts, "Okay, he was too juiced to pop his reserve."

"Maybe..." Gibbs replied thoughtfully, as he rubbed his jaw with a thumb, "maybe not. You pump adrenaline when you jump, and if your main chute doesn't open then it would really kick into high gear."

"Well, Gibbs, if he had the reflexes to use it, why didn't he?" Kate argued.

Gibbs shrugged, "I don't know," he answered, before he turned his face back to the screen, "What did you find on his main chute shroud lines?" he asked Abby.

"Fibre disintegration, but not from textile fatigue, it's from some sort of cleansing agent but one that causes this kind of damage," she held up three or four strands of shroud line in a latex-gloved hand, and brought them closer to the camera.

"The end's look melted," Mac observed as she leaned closer to the screen.

"Well I haven't tagged it yet, but it is definitely an acid on the shroud lines that were supposed to hold three hundred pounds of parachuting Marine"

"How long to find out what acid, and check the rest of those nine chutes?" Gibbs asked.

"At least a day," the young woman replied.

"Would it go faster if you had an assistant?"

"Yeah, sure."

"McGee! You got the job."

The young agent's face swum into view on the screen, "I get to do forensics? Cool."

"No, you get to schlep for Abby, while she does forensics," Gibbs said flatly and turned away from the screen, making a cut out motion with the blade of his hand across his throat as he did so.

Kate hesitated a second or two while she smiled sympathetically at the crestfallen expression on Tim McGee's face and only then hit the power switch on the computer.

**lxxvi-lxxvi-lxxvi-lxxvi-lxxvi**

Gibbs stalked out of the office, leaving Kate looking in perplexity at Doctor Mallard, while after a hurried exchange of glances, Mac and Harm strode after him.

"You'd best go with him, my dear," Ducky said to Kate, "Don't worry about your machine here, I'll look after it for you."

Kate's smile lit up her face, "Thanks, Doctor Mallard, you're a star!"

The NCIS ME watched her go, and murmured,"Ah, you should have seen me thirty years ago! And that's Ducky to you, Caitlin."

Kate made it down the steps just in time to see the NCIS car pull away from the curbside. With a silent obscenity she looked helplessly around only to hear Mac call her name. The Marine officer was leaning out of the half-opened door of a silver-grey Lexus SUV and waving her to come over.

Not for the first time on this investigation Kate cursed the impulse that had led her to wear two inch heels and a skirt as she hurried across the tarmac as quickly as she could. Ignoring a wolf whistle as her skirt rode up her thigh while she climbed into the SUV, she half-smiled and half-panted her thanks to the two JAG officers.

"You do want to catch up with Gibbs, don't you?" Mac asked.

Kate took a deep breath and nodded, and was jolted back into his seat as Harm, back behind the wheel, engaged the drive and released the parking brake. "Do you know where he's going?" she asked.

Harm nodded, while Mac said, "The rigging loft. They're packing more chutes for the drop tonight, and he muttered something about seeing how they worked…"

The drive to the rigging loft took only a few minutes, sure enough the NCIS Crown Victoria was parked rather haphazardly near the door.

Pushing open the door, Harm led the two women into its cavernous interior. Ramsey and Brinkman working on the back table, while Sergeant Fuentes and Dafalmair were at the front table. Gibbs stood at Dafalmair's right shoulder, evidently quizzing him on each stage of packing the parachute, while the scowling Captain Faul stood in front of the table, obviously impatient that Gibbs was slowing down Dafalmair's rate of work.

Just as Harm, Kate and Mac approached the table, Dafalmair gave the parachute pack in front of him a satisfied slap, "That's it Sir, all packed."

"What next?" Gibbs queried.

Dafalmair unzipped the pocket on the side of the parachute pack, and pulled out a small notebook, "I sign and date and make a note of the time in the log, and the log book goes back into the pocket, and the chute joins the others waiting for issue, Sir."

Gibbs nodded,"Uh-huh..." And reaching out and tweaked the log book for the Corporal's hand, at the same time bringing another similar book out from the inside pocket of his jacket." Signatures match," he noted.

Dafalmair looked sick, "Is… Is that the log book from the lieutenant's chute, Sir?"

Gibbs stared at him for a few moments before answering, "Yep. You packed it."

Dafalmair shook his head helplessly. "I didn't know it was one of mine…" he muttered.

"Why didn't you tell us you had a beef with the lieutenant, Corporal?" Gibbs asked coldly.

Dafalmair looked honestly baffled, "I didn't have no beef with the lieutenant, Sir."

"No?" Gibbs practically sneered, "Not even for suspending you from rigging duties for two weeks?"

Dafalmair shook his head again, "No, Sir! If anything I was grateful to the lieutenant for that, he could have had me up on article fifteen, and anyway, my beef was with Sergeant Fuentes,he is the one who reported me – not that I didn't need it – but we sorted that out in the Bull Ring." Dafalmair hesitated before he continued, "Scuttlebutt has it that you're a Marine, too, Sir. You know how it goes."

"Scuttlebutt?" Kate queried quietly.

"Yeah, Marine-speak for rumours and gossip," Harm whispered cheerfully, ignoring a murderous look he got from Mac.

"Yeah I know how it goes, I know how it goes when guys get pushed just that inch too far, and tempers get frayed. Just as frayed as those shroud lines." Gibbs said in reply to Dafalmair's plea for understanding.

"I couldn't have known that that chute would end up with Lieutenant Musgrave. There's pretty much a scrimmage at the back of the truck when the chutes are passed out, everyone wants to get his chute, get it secured and adjusted before things start a-popping."

"Lieutenant Musgrave was popping painkillers before he jumped, Corporal. Why didn't you tell us that?"

"I didn't know, Sir."

"Like hell you didn't!" Gibbs snapped with a flash of temper.

"Lieutenant Musgrave died because he was too juiced up to pop his reserve chute." Mac interrupted with a warning glance at Gibbs, who turned away and opened a file folder that lay on the end of the table. By craning her neck Mac couldn't see that it was an enlisted Marine's SRB.

Gibbs flicked through the pages in the file, "You've got a criminal record, Corporal. Before entering the Corps."

"I made a few mistakes, Sir," Dafalmair admitted defensively as he assumed the position of parade rest.

"Shoplifting, drug possession?" Gibbs read off Dafalmair's earlier offences, making a question out of them.

"It was a long time ago, Sir."

"Three years, that's not so long ago," Kate added, having worked her way around the table so that she too could read the file.

Dafalmair nodded in the direction of the file, "You've got my file, Sir. You know the judge gave me a choice, prison or the service. The Corps gave me a second chance, Sir. Now I would never do anything to hurt it or one of my brother Marines. Never, Sir."

Gibbs made no reply he just stared steadily into Dafalmair's eyes, and then still without a word to the Marine, or anyone else, he spun on his heel and then with a curt, "With me!" to Kate Todd he headed for the door.

Mac turned to Harm, "I'm getting just a little tired of his attitude!" She gritted.

"Yeah," Harm agreed, "it's getting pretty old, pretty fast! He needs taking down a peg or two!"

Mac said nothing, but her eyebrow quirked and she subjected Harm to a long, appraising look.

**lxxvi-lxxvi-lxxvi-lxxvi-lxxvi**

The two JAG officers caught up with the pair of NCIS agents as they approached the parachute ground-school, where they watched paratroopers in training jumping from an eight-feet high stage into sand, in order to practice the proper parachute landing technique, and as they approached there were just in time to hear Kate ask, "You ever jumped?"

"Only when I get an electric shock," Gibbs replied in an off-hand manner.

Kate grinned, "That explains the reported lack of power tools," she said cryptically.

Gibbs merely grinned, and nodded towards the trainees, amongst whom Kate could now identify Agent DiNozzo. "Some of these guys freeze on their first jump, it takes a kick in the butt to get them out of the door."

"Tony?" Kate asked in some surprise.

Gibbs shook his head, "Nope, DiNozzo falls into the category of needing a kick in the butt when he's on the ground!"

Mac snorted with impatience, "If you've finished chewing the fat on the Navy's time, perhaps you'd like to let the rest of us know where you think this case is going?"

"Colonel, I'm not right sure. Right now it looks like Dafalmair is our man, but all we have is his signature on the log book of the chute that failed, his pre-enlistment criminal record and the fact that Lieutenant Musgrave suspended him from rigging duties for two weeks, that in my book would give him motive. But, all that is purely circumstantial, and besides, it is all too neat."

Harm nodded, "All smoke and mirrors, and anyway, did you see Dafalmair's face when he realised that Musgrave's chute was one of the ones he'd packed? He looked sick as a yellow dog, and I don't think he's that good an actor."

"Good point, Commander," Gibbs acknowledged.

"So, where do we go from here?" Kate asked.

Gibbs took a deep breath, "We wait until we hear more from Abby, if she can identify whatever was used to burn those lines, we will at least have something to look for. In the meantime, I suggest we head for the mess hall and chow down."

**lxxvi-lxxvi-lxxvi-lxxvi-lxxvi**

At this time of day the mess hall was crowded with hungry Marines, but Harm was able to use his extra inches to spot Doctor Mallard already sat at a table, and with a nod of his head he was able to indicate direction the party should take. They made their way through the maze of tables and chairs to see the doctor stand in recognition of the two women in the party.

Once sat at the table Harm was conscious of a few curious stares at his plate which he had loaded with cauliflower cheese and mashed potato, however, nobody said anything about his choice, although Doctor Mallard made a grimace of distaste at the slab of meatloaf on his plate, and then with a twinkle in his eye he looked across at Kate.

"Kate, my dear. This…" He gestured at his plate, "is not the sort of cuisine for which I could have wished for our first repast together. Once we're both safely back in Washington, you must allow me to take you to dinner if only to make up for this… this… Really my dear, words fail me!"

Kate flashed a smile at the older man, but before she could formulate a polite refusal, Gibbs interrupted, "Rule twelve, Ducky," he mumbled through a mouthful of the dubious meatloaf.

Ducky sighed regretfully, "Your rules, Jethro, seem specifically designed to diminish simple human pleasures!"

"Rules?" Mac queried.

"Rule twelve?" Harm asked.

Gibbs nodded," Rule twelve: never date a co-worker."

"NCIS has fraternisation rules?" Harm asked incredulously.

"Not at all, dear boy," Ducky said ruefully, "Not NCIS, just Gibbs." Seemingly disconsolate he took another small portion of meatloaf on his fork, but as he raised it to his mouth he looked up at Kate, and his eyes twinkling with amusement, he gave her a slow and extravagant wink. But then he sighed, "Its no good. I have tried, and I mean no disrespect to you colonial types, but the sins you perpetrate on good minced beef are beyond my limits of toleration. I simply cannot eat this, so I shall take my leave of you, ladies, Commander. Jethro… I shall be taking my truck and heading straight back for DC. My work here is done. I have left you my preliminary report, and my full report shall be awaiting your return to the Navy Yard." He gathered his dirty plates and mug, stacking them neatly on his tray which he deposited on the rack as he left the mess hall.

Kate gazed after him with a smile on her face, "Have you known Ducky a very long time, Gibbs?"

"Yeah, Ducky and I go back a long way together."

Kate nodded, and with a knowing look at Mac, she asked Gibbs,"He's such an old charmer... what was Ducky like as a young man?"

Gibbs pulled a face as he took a sip of his coffee, and sat in silent thought for a few long moment's before he drew a breath, "Illya Kuryakin," he said dispassionately and with an air of finality returned his attention to his meal, leaving the three younger members of the group staring at each other in mutual incomprehension.

Their mood was lightened, however, by the addition of agent Tony DiNozzo to the table, his BDUs were sweat stained and streaked with dirt, and he was red-faced and sweating, while a sand-graze made a colourful addition to his right cheek.

His plate was mounded high, Harm was sure he could see it least three thick slices of meatloaf hiding under a mountain of mashed potato which was soaked in gravy, and with a generous portion of Lima beans on the side.

DiNozzo caught the naval officer's incredulous stare and somewhat defensively he muttered, "Hey, it's been hard work out there this morning, and I'm hungry!"

Gibbs said nothing, he merely raised an eyebrow a fraction of an inch, and it was left to Kate to say, "Tony, you're always hungry!"

**lxxvi-lxxvi-lxxvi-lxxvi-lxxvi**

They left DiNozzo at the table, fork in hand, as he attacked a wedge of Apple pie almost afloat in cream.

"That crack about DiNozzo always being hungry, is that true?" Mac asked Kate as they took their seats at the conference table back at Force Recon HQ.

Kate nodded her head wearily, "You wouldn't believe it. Being on stakeout with him is like being in Dante's third circle, the car, or the room really needs disinfecting afterwards. Potato chip bags, burger and fries trays, pizza boxes, in fact, if it's food there will be evidence of it wherever DiNozzo's been!"

Mac shook her head, "How the hell do you put up with him? He pissed me off by leering at me within seconds of laying his eyes on me!"

Kate grinned in ready sympathy. "That's DiNozzo, he's kind of X-rated Peter Pan, tends to the aggravating, puerile, juvenile, even. In many, many ways, he still just an overgrown frat boy. Having said all that, though, I could hardly want a better partner to watch my back when push comes to shove. And he's no slouch, despite his childish mannerisms, when it comes to investigations."

Mac shot a sidelong glance at Harm before she turned her face back towards Kate, "I know what you mean about the Peter Pan thing, although he's not X-rated, in some ways actually, and it's quite endearing, he's a bit of a prude. But again, I couldn't ask for a better partner in a tight spot, we've saved each other's sixes more times than I care to remember." She caught Kate's rather dubious stare at Harm. "Remember, you're not exactly seeing him at his best at the moment."

"No…" Kate said slowly, "I don't suppose I am." She paused before she continued rather diffidently, "Uh… He is kinda cute… umm… Are you and he…? I mean, umm…"

Although Kate's innocent question caused a pang of regret in Mac's heart,but by dint of supreme effort, she kept that hurt from appearing on her face, and said lightly, "God, no! No, we are partners, and friends. But that doesn't give you a green light," she added shrewdly, "he's married."

"Damn, the good ones always are…" Kate said mournfully.

"Yeah", Mac agreed softly as she gazed off into the middle distance, unaware that her monosyllabic response had drawn a speculative sideways look from the keen-minded NCIS agent.

Gibbs and Harm, at the other end of the table were unable to hear to women's soft spoken and brief conversation. Gibbs, however, well aware that the Navy officer still didn't have much time for him, offered an olive branch of sorts, "Seems like the women-folk are getting on well enough," he said suggestively.

Harm gazed at him flatly, and wondered why the grey-haired NCIS agent was suddenly pretending to be folks at home. "No reason why they shouldn't be," he eventually replied, "they have a lot in common, they're both smart, intelligent women working in a world that is still mostly dominated by men." He gave a muffled snort of amusement, "And I would be willing to bet a considerable sum that part of their bonding process was complaining about the assholes they've got as bosses."

"Are you including yourself in that definition?" Gibbs asked with an ironic grin.

Harm's grin was one of more self-deprecating amusement than anything else, "Hell no! Mac would probably try and kick my ass if she ever heard me claim to be her boss. No, we are partners, and our boss is back in DC."

Gibbs grin faded as he thought he'd worked out Harm's unspoken message, and to Harm, closely watching the NCIS man's change of expression, his thought processes were not too difficult to interpret, but just to make sure that his message had got home, he said blandly, "Though, I think I've heard Kate called you 'boss'?"

Gibbs grunted, but what reply, if any, he was about to make was forestalled by the imperative of his cell phone's ring tone.

"Gibbs." He answered.

"_Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs! I've got it, I've got it_!"

"Calm down Abs," Gibbs said in a long-suffering tone, "how many Kaf-Pows did you get through this morning?"

"_Oh, three… maybe four_?" The Goth forensics specialist offered optimistically.

"Abs," Gibbs said his tone and equal mixture of warning and reproof.

"_Well, thinking back, five? Six_?"

"Okay Abs, take a deep breath, I'm gonna put you on speaker so everyone can hear," he looked at the others in the room, who were watching him with avid interest, and made a 'come closer' gesture to ensure that they can all hear what Abby had to say.

"_Okay, okay… Timmy and I checked all the samples you sent us, and they were all contaminated by the same substance._"

"And that substance was?" Gibbs prodded, not having the patience at the moment to deal with Abby's excursions into histrionics.

"_Chlorophenol_!" she exclaims triumphantly.

"In English, Abs," Gibbs said exasperatedly.

Abby sighed theatrically, "_Carbolic acid, in a concentrated form_."

"Yeah, that would do the trick," Mac commented.

Harm thought for a moment, and then caught Gibbs' eye. Despite his annoyance at what he considered the cheap shot Harm had taken at him, Gibbs read the message, "Hold on a second, Abs. Yes, Commander Rabb?"

"We know from examining the log books, that all four riggers had a hand in packing those ten chutes, so that doesn't take this any further forward. Neither is there much point in checking the chute deployment bags and harness for fingerprints; apart from the riggers, we know there'll be prints of the guys who loaded the chutes onto the truck, from the guys who off-loaded them from the truck at the other end, and from the Marines who received the chutes. So, although we know what caused the damage, we are still no nearer to figuring out who, or why!"

Gibbs nodded, "And if we could figure out why, it might give us an idea as to who!"

"_I've got an idea_!" Abby interrupted from DC, "_Whenever you lace up your dogs, or pull the drawstring on your laundry bag, you leave skin cells behind and it's the same with parachute shroud lines. We scraped all the shroud lines you sent. So Timmy and I came up with a whole bunch of skin cells_."

"From more than one donor?" Kate asked.

"DNA signatures?" Gibbs added.

"_Oh yeah, you bet! We got five different samples all told,__ but there was only one sample that's common to all nine sets of lines _"

"Five?" Gibbs asked, "Damn!"

"Gibbs?" Kate asked.

"One more unknown possible to add to the four riggers!" Gibbs spat.

"_There was only one sample that's common to all nine sets of lines." _Abby repeated what she considered to be the most significant part of her report._  
><em>

"The saboteur," Gibbs said grimly.

_That's a help isn't it?_" Abby asked.

"No, not without a reference sample," Gibbs answered.

"That should be easy enough," Kate said, "just check them all against the armed forces database of DNA; all military personnel have their DNA recorded these days, don't they? We get a match, then we've got our saboteur.

Gibbs shook his head, "All we've got is a pile of dead skin," he said bitterly.

Kate's forehead creased in a puzzled frown, "How come?" she asked.

"The only legal use of the Armed Forces DNA Register is the identification of bodies." Harm replied.

"There's got to be a way around that!" Kate protested.

Mac and Harm shook their heads, but Gibbs grinned at Kate,"See, now you're beginning to think like an NCIS agent!" He said approvingly, and then into the phone, "Good work Abs!" before he closed the phone and broke the connection.

He perched on the edge of the table and looked earnestly at Mac and Harm, "We've got ten parachutes that were rigged to fail, the killer doctored them and repacked them, Lieutenant Musgrave died as a result. That's premeditated murder."

"I'm sold," Mac said.

Harm nodded, "Hey, if I'm on the jury – you got my vote. But, that's still not going to get you into the Armed Forces registry, like you said that was set up for the purpose of identifying bodies only, so what makes you think you can use it for something else?"

"You, Commander, and you Colonel, you're both smart lawyers; you can think of something and you know the law."

"Nope, that is not going to happen!" Mac said determinedly.

Gibbs looked at them both, "You've both done investigations, it's over twenty-four hours now, and coming up to the forty-eight hour mark. You both know that means."

"Yeah, evidence decays, disappears, witnesses change their stories..." Harm contributed.

"Suspects improve theirs, we know," Mac finished for him, her words flowing seamlessly after Harm's.

Gibbs and Kate exchanging glance at this further proof of how the two JAG officers worked in tandem, and Kate recalling her earlier conversation with Mac on the subject of that relationship, chalked up another mental doubt. "So, help us?" she asked.

"No, you are not going to get us to lawyer you past an iron clad prohibition that prevents you from tapping into a data base that was designed solely for the purpose of identifying remains, not to chase suspects!" Harm affirmed.

"This guy is guilty, he killed him; he let him drop to his death from thirteen hundred feet."

"It doesn't matter," Mac answered him, but her voice showed that she too shared Gibbs' frustration.

Gibbs shook his head, "For every legal firewall, there is a way around it."

Harm shook his head in his turn, "Mac is right, as much as we want to, we can't help you... well, not with the DNA, but, we are also looking for a cleaning substance that contains a high concentration of carbolic acid… But to be able to look for that, you're going to need search authorisations, and we can certainly get those."

Kate looked from Gibbs to Harm and back again, "You knew that Mac and Harm weren't going to help you get the DNA evidence!"

Gibbs exchanged a somewhat shamefaced grin with Harm, "I did?" he countered.

"Yes, you did!" Kate expostulated, "So why the charade?"

"Kate, I come from a long line of horse traders. First rule, you pick the best horse in the barn and you work the deal until it bursts."

"That way, when you go for the second-best nag, you get it for a song." Harm grinned.

Both Kate and Gibbs looked at Harm in some surprise, a look that was slowly replaced by one of indignation on Kate's face and dawning respect on Gibbs', while Mac smirked at the two NCIS agents' discomfiture.

"The second-best nag," Kate said heavily, "The search authorisations."

"Right, we don't have probable cause, but to give them credit the Commander here, and the Colonel both want this guy as badly as we do, and while they can't get through one firewall, we'll get through the next. Never play the system, Kate, when you can play the people."

"But you knew what Gibbs was doing, didn't you?" Kate challenged Harm.

"Did I?" Harm replied enigmatically, but with the suggestion of a grin playing on the corners of his mouth.

Baffled, Kate turned back to Gibbs, "These horse traders you're descended from, any of them ever get hanged?" she asked bitingly.

"Yeah, a few," Gibbs admitted nonchalantly, but with the same phantom grin on his face that Harm was currently wearing.

Kate shook her head in disgust and turned to Mac for understanding, exclaiming "Men!" Only to see that the Marine officer's smirk had broadened into what could only be described as a shit-eating grin.

"Two hours enough for you to get through the paperwork?" Gibbs asked Harm and Mac, and receiving their nods of agreement, he looked at his watch, "In that case, I'll see you all in the rigging loft at sixteen hundred." And shoving off from the table he stood and left the room.


	77. Lucky For Some

**77**

**Lucky For Some**

Wisely, once they had discovered that the on-call judge was Admiral Morris, Harm and Mac had made an unspoken but mutual agreement that the request for the search authorisations would be better coming from her; both attorneys were convinced that judge Morris had still not forgiven Harm for his MP-5 stunt in his courtroom, all those years ago. Even so, it had taken some fast talking and special pleading by Mac before the judge grudgingly agreed to sign the necessary authorisations and have them faxed to the Force Recon HQ offices, where Harm had nearly driven the clerk to distraction as he waited impatiently for the signed, faxed copies to arrive.

While they were waiting for the fax machine to spew out the papers, Mac had noticed with a twinge of concern that Harm had sat back in one of the uncomfortable office chairs and had fingertips of both hands pressed on each side of his nose.

"You okay?" She asked him.

Harm nodded and managed a weary smile, "Just these damned sinuses Mac, doesn't seem like the decongestants are working very well any more."

Mac shook her head, "You need to go back to the base medical centre, and this time see a doctor, not just a Corpsman."

Harm shook his head wearily, "No need for that, Mac. I got rid of it, well the worst of it, last night with a couple of aspirin, some hot honey and lemon and a pile of blankets."

Mac looked at him, an expression of open disbelief on her face, "And not forgetting two or three double handfuls whatever pills you conned that Corpsman into giving you!"

Mac gave him a second frankly disbelieving look, and shaking her head stalked the other side of the office where she stood staring out of the window, and without speaking until she heard Harm's triumphant, "Yes!"

His impatience with her forgotten, he almost snatched the precious documents from the clerk's hand, quickly scanned them and called across the office, "Nice work, Mac! You got the judge to come good for us! C'mon, let's go!"

Mac was appalled at Harm's lack of manners and shot a furious glance at him as he almost raced out of the office, but which bounced off his unseeing back. She smiled weakly in apology to the Master Sergeant chief clerk, and hurried after Harm, wondering if in this sudden burst of energy he might take off in the Lexus leaving her to walk back to the parachute rigging loft.

Master Sergeant Lee looked around at the half-dozen clerks in the office and with a contemptuous snort said, "Squids!"

**lxxvii-lxxvii-lxxvii-lxxvii-lxxvii**

Mac caught up with Harm before he drove off and left her behind, but she climbed up into the passenger seat she gave him another furious look. This time Harm saw it, "What?" He asked.

Mac shook her head and said scornfully "If you don't know, I am not going to waste my breath trying to explain!"

Totally oblivious, Harm could only stare at her wordlessly for a few seconds, before, with a muttered comment that Mac didn't hear he knocked the gear lever into drive and released the brakes.

Fortunately the silent drive to the parachute rigging loft took only minutes, and barely waiting for Harm to apply the brakes and switch off the ignition, Mac almost jumped out of the vehicle and strode towards the building's entrance, her heels beating a rapid tattoo on the tarmac.

Harm dismounted from the Lexus and follow at a slower pace, shaking his head in bewilderment at Mac's apparent sudden change in attitude.

When they entered the building they found Gibbs, DiNozzo and Kate Todd waiting for them, as was Captain Faul together with his four riggers. The four men stood at parade rest facing a row of lockers, each one sealed with yellow adhesive tape.

"I had the riggers' lockers sealed as soon as I heard you were getting search authorisations," Faul said to Gibbs, who nodded and dipping his hand into his pocket pulled out a sealed packet of latex gloves, an action that was repeated by DiNozzo and Todd. Turning to the four Marines he said tersely, "Keys."

Keeping one set of keys for himself he tossed another set to Todd and DiNozzo, and then hesitated as he looked at the two JAG officers, and then with a sigh he dipped hand in his pocket again pull out another packet latex gloves, and asked "Who's up for it?"

Harm figured he had some making up to do with Mac, "You want me to do this, or are you happy to…"

"I'll do it!" Mac snapped, accepting gloves and keys from the NCIS agent, but once gloved she stared nonplussed at the tape sealing the locker while Gibbs and his two juniors each produced a knife from somewhere about their persons and made short work of the tape. Mac shrugged and looked towards Captain Faul, "Do you have a…" she began, but was interrupted by Kate, "here, use mine," she offered.

DiNozzo looked across, grinned and said in what Mac, and Harm, considered to be a grossly patronising tone, "Rule nine, always carry a knife!"

Mac shot him a murderous glance which bounced off the armour of his impervious self-confidence as he stuck a small, but powerful torch in his mouth and bent to examine the inside of Ramsey's locker.

While Mac and the three NCIS agents rummaged through the four lockers Harm took the opportunity to observe the four Marines. To his surprise none of them looked at all nervous as the contents of their lockers were looked through, in fact from what Harm could tell, and after years of interviewing witnesses he was pretty good at reading facial expressions and body language all of them seem to be uniformly bored. Bored expressions however, fell off their faces as Mac straightened, "I've got something!" she declared.

Dafalmair's expression turned to one of horrified shock, while Fuentes, Brinkman and Ramsey turned their heads to stare at him accusingly, as did Captain Faul and his First Sergeant, while Mac turned and placed a small cardboard box on the parachute rigging table. She pulled out of the box a couple of cleaning rags and then a brightly coloured metal can with a screw-top lid, and handed it to Gibbs.

"Brass stripper solvent," he read out loud

Mac nodded, "Read the contents," she said grimly.

Gibbs turned the can around and squinted at the small print on the reverse, moving his hand nearer and further away from his eyes as he fought to bring the minute lettering into focus, eventually holding it at arms length, before giving up the attempt and passing the can to DiNozzo, who had been trying to read the same thing over Gibb's shoulder.

"Contains petroleum distillate, ammonia and... carbolic acid," the younger agent read out loud with a significant look at both Gibbs and Kate Todd before he continued, "Harmful if swallowed... or put onto shroud lines..."

"Dafalmair's locker," Mac said.

"That stuff's not mine!" the corporal protested in the face of a barrage of disbelieving looks, including those from his Company Commander and First Sergeant and his co-riggers as well as Mac and the three NCIS agents.

"Sergeant Nutt," Gibbs said to the MP Sergeant hovering in the background, "Place the Corporal in custody... Tony, read 'em!"

DiNozzo read a bewildered Corporal Dafalmair his Article Thirty-One rights while the MP Sergeant wrested his arms behind his back and clamped the cuffs around his wrists, while Gibbs snapped closed the padlock on the locker and unseen by Dafalmair dropped the key into his pocket.

With a satisfied grin, and a meaningful look at his juniors, Gibbs followed the MP and Dafalmair out of the parachute rigging loft, and stood in the doorway watching as the MP loaded his prisoner into a Humvee.

Her feelings somewhat assuaged by having found incriminating evidence, Mac turned to Harm and cocked quizzical eyebrow, "Not going along to watch the fun?"

Harm shook his head and gave her a steady look in return, "I don't think they've got the right guy."

"One of your gut feelings, again," Mac asked with a hint of scorn in her voice.

Harm shook his head again, "No, observation. While you and the NCIS rent a cops were head down and butts up in their lockers, I was watching the riggers' reaction. Without exception, they all looked perfectly at ease, and in fact slightly bored, until you found that can. The look of shock and horror on Dafalmair's face… Well, put it this way, unless Dafalmair's Oscar material, he couldn't have pulled that off."

Mac regarded him soberly, Harm could be a cocky, even arrogant, patronising and condescending, ill mannered sonofabitch, but he was a damn fine litigator, and Mac knew from bitter experience that he hadn't got that way without being able to read people. Other people, that is, she hastily amended her own thoughts; for some unknown reason Harm had never been able to really read her, but in all fairness, she had the same difficulty in trying to read him. But if he thought Dafalmair's reactions were that of an innocent man, then his opinion was worth weighing in the scales.

**lxxvii-lxxvii-lxxvii-lxxvii-lxxvii**

An hour later, Gibbs, had inveigled the CO of the MP Battalion to letting him have the use of the interview and observation rooms. He had been prepared to argue for their use, but Lieutenant-Colonel Stapleton had been only too pleased to help. Gibbs wasn't to know that a goodly amount of his co-operation had been secured by the knowledge that Mac was his replacement, and would be reporting for duty in a little under three months.

But at the moment Gibbs was sat on one side of the table in the interview room facing the bewildered and scared Corporal Dafalmair, "you weren't too happy about being suspended from rigging duties were you Corporal?"

"No Sir."

"In fact, Corporal, you were pretty damn angry, weren't you?"

"Not that angry, Sir."

"You were angry enough to let Sergeant Fuentes know how mad you were."

"Words were exchanged, Sir, but I got over it."

"Words weren't the only things exchange though were they? Fists came into it too."

"A punch or two was thrown, yes Sir."

So if you were that mad at Sergeant Fuentes for writing you up, how mad were you at Lieutenant Musgrave for suspending you? Must be pretty hard for you, Corporal, after all you might get away with giving a sergeant a set of lumps, but striking an officer… Man, that's hard time at Leavenworth."

"Okay, yeah, I was a bit mad at the lieutenant, but I wasn't mad enough to kill him."

"Maybe you just meant to scare him; thing is, Lieutenant Musgrave was on painkillers, and they slowed his reactions and he didn't have time to pull his reserve."

"I did not touch his chute, Sir. How could I, I was on suspension and the para loft is under lock and key."

In the observation room next door Kate Todd with Mac and Harm watched the interview. Harm's view that Dafalmair was innocent was gaining weight with Mac with each succeeding minute. He was sitting straight in his chair, he was making good eye contact with Gibbs, his answers were crisp and clear, if slightly truculent, but he wasn't blustering.

The attention of all three watchers was distracted for a few seconds as DiNozzo, now back in his civilian clothes open the door and walked into the room.

"What did you find?" Kate asked.

"Hardware store," DiNozzo replied with his smug, cocky grin that Mac found to be even more annoying than Harm's, "Where our guy did some one-stop shopping. The sales clerk's a bit fuzzy but he does remember a Marine who was in an awful real hurry to get a key copied."

Almost as if he had heard DiNozzo and was waiting for his cue, Gibbs emptied a plastic bag containing the personal effects taken from Dafalmair when he was booked into the facility, and hooking his left pinky through the keyring held up a bunch of keys and then dipped his hand into his pocket and produced a key, "All you needed was a key," he said, "like this one…" He twirled it in his fingers and then waved it slowly backwards and forwards in front of Dafalmair's face. "I found this in Lieutenant Musgrave's personal effects."

"If that's the para loft key, you won't find one to match it on my key-chain," Dafalmair asserted confidently. "I may have messed up some rigging, Sir, but never intentionally," Dafalmair continued but his eyes were now fixed in fascination on his key-chain and the comparison Gibbs was making with the key he claimed came from Musgrave's personal effects and one on that key-chain

"Guy jumps with one of my chutes, he puts his life in my hands, I never breach that trust, Sir, never."

Gibbs looked at him sceptically, as he held up Lieutenant Musgrave's key alongside a matching key on Dafalmair's key-chain "Are you going to tell me this is a plant too?"

"Yes, got him!" DiNozzo hissed in triumph.

"It had to be," Dafalmair insisted the desperation in his voice now plain for all to hear, "I'm not guilty, Sir."

In the observation room DiNozzo shook his head in mock sadness, "They're always so sincere," he said in pitying tones. His remark drawing a sceptically withering look from Kate Todd, who appeared to both mistrust what he had said and to be annoyed by it.

Harm drew a breath to take issue with the arrogant NCIS agent, but was stopped by the pressure of Mac's hand on his forearm and looking down his eyes met with hers as she gave a minuscule shake of her head

Gibbs continued playing with the keys for a few seconds before he looked up at Dafalmair once again, "What if I was to give you the opportunity to prove that?"

"Anything, Sir."

"Would you be willing to give us a sample of your DNA?"

Dafalmair sat up a direct once more, "Somebody put that box in my locker, and put that key on my chain. How do I know you haven't got my DNA on something else that's been planted too."

Gibbs let a cynical grin appeared momentarily on his face," You don't." he said simply.

**lxxvii-lxxvii-lxxvii-lxxvii-lxxvii**

Back in the conference room at Force Recon's headquarters Kate was busy setting up her computer again while Gibbs put his phone down, and carefully sealed a long, slim plastic tube into an envelope on to which he had written the lab address at the Navy Yard and signed across the seal.

He looked across at Mac and Harm, "The CO of HMLA one six seven owed me a favour or two, and has agreed to have this," he tapped the envelope, "delivered to our forensics lab. I'm expecting a pilot any minute now… In the meantime..." and his voice took on an exasperated edge as looked briefly at a file before he skidded it across the table at DiNozzo, "Where did you learn how to write, China?"

Agent Todd glanced across at the now open file in front of her colleague, "Egypt, I'd say, looks more like hieroglyphics."

"Hey, you were in a rush to read it!" DiNozzo said defensively to Gibbs, causing Harm and Mac to exchange a look of unspoken communication as they both came to the same conclusion that DiNozzo was remarkably insecure and did not take well to even the mildest criticism.

Gibbs didn't seem at all perturbed by DiNozzo's petulant outburst, merely raising his coffee cup in ironic salute, and with a casual, "My mistake."

"Are those the interviews with the Marines who didn't jump?" Mac asked, with a concerned sideways glance at Harm who had now thrown his head back so it appeared he was staring at the ceiling, while he gently massaged the areas over his frontal sinuses.

DiNozzo barely spared Mac a glance as he answered dismissively, "Yeah, not very interesting."

Mac bristled, there was just something about the younger agent that made the palms of her hands itch and she was mentally debating whether or not to use his vanity to lure him into the Bull ring, where she would have the satisfaction of handing him his ass on a plate. Before, however, she could formulate a plan a knock at the door was followed by the entry of a blonde woman carrying a helmet and dressed in a flight suit with a wings patch on the left breast bearing the railroad tracks of a Captain in the Marine Corps.

"Agent Gibbs?" She asked looking at each of the room's occupants in turn, and on seeing Mac and Harm came up into an attention position, "Ma'am, Sir, my apologies."

Mac nodded, "Stand easy Captain, there's agent Gibbs," she nodded at the grey-haired NCIS senior agent.

"Captain Dawson, Sir. I understand you have an urgent package for the Navy yard?"

Gibbs nodded gravely, "I do, and you are cleared for a direct approach and landing at the Navy Yard helo pad. Here it is, don't lose it."

Captain Dawson's eyes flashed, "I'm not in the habit of losing things, Agent Gibbs!" She said forcefully as she tucked the plastic tube into the zippered breast pocket of her flight suit.

Gibbs looked as if he was about to respond in kind, but Harm, although his attention had been apparently fixed on the ceiling had been following the conversation, and its nuances closely, and interrupted before Gibbs could say anything.

"The one six seven, isn't that an attack Squadron?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir."

Harm grinned, "Well, the sight of an Apache setting down on the Navy Yard helo pad should raise a few eyebrows."

Dawson ventured a half grin, "It might do Sir, but my ride's a Huey!"

Gibbs grunted in a non-committal fashion, "So, how long to make it to DC?"

"Around two and a half hours," Captain Dawson replied flatly in a take it or leave it or go to hell tone of voice. And when Gibbs failed to respond she turned back to Mac, "By your leave ma'am?"

Mac nodded, feeling compelled to make up for Gibbs' poor manners this time, she said, "Thank you Captain, dismissed."

"Aye aye ma'am!" Dawson turned on her heel and strode briskly to the door, pausing only to shoot a look full of dislike at Gibbs, who seemed totally unaware of or indifferent to the ill feeling he'd aroused.

Agent Todd who had been talking quietly into her cell phone while Dawson was in the room now turned in her chair and positioned her lap top so that Gibbs could see the screen, "Gibbs, Abby's up,"

The grey-haired agent nodded and looked at the screen, and once again without preamble he launched into the business of the call, "Abby, there's a DNA sample on its way to you by helo, should be with you in a coupla-three hours, how long to test for a match on those skin cells?"

"If you want me to run strips that won't add up to errors in court, you gotta give me twenty-four."

"Abby, clock's ticking."

The Goth forensics analyst didn't bother replying, instead she just nodded and pressed a button on her computer, breaking the link.

Mac looked at Gibbs, "I'm surprised you had a sample to send, I wouldn't have expected a guilty man to give up his DNA."

DiNozzo sniggered, "Ah, he's rolling the dice, hoping for that one in a million shot that it won't match."

Mac raised her eyebrows in mild surprise, "People really think they can beat those odds?" Despite herself, she was becoming interested in the NCIS evidence gathering process. She had, of course used DNA evidence in court, but she'd never given much thought to the gathering of it, or of the thought processes of those who gave those who collected that evidence.

"All the time," DiNozzo said dryly.

"The Colonel has a point," Gibbs interjected, much to Mac's surprise, "What if Dafalmair was set up, what if he's innocent, what if he's telling the truth?"

"Well, we'll know in twenty four hours, but I wouldn't bet on it!" DiNozzo answered.

Gibbs grunted, and shoved his chair back from the table, "You know what, I don't like sitting on my ass, waiting for a DNA test result to come back!"

"There are only three other possible suspects, Fuentes, Ramsey and Brinkman " DiNozzo said as he and Kate stood as well, preparing to follow Gibbs.

Gibbs corrected him, "Four, you're forgetting Captain Faul, he has a key to the para loft – where do you think you're going, Bubba?" he added to DiNozzo, "You've got a report to re-write.

DiNozzo's face fell and he slumped back into his chair while Kate shot him a gleefully triumphant grin as she stood to follow Gibbs, but then as her eyes met Mac's she had the grace to look slightly embarrassed – for a few seconds anyway – before she realised that the JAG attorney was wearing an identical grin.

**lxxvii-lxxvii-lxxvii-lxxvii-lxxvii**

Captain Faul was easy enough to find, behind his desk in H&S Company's offices, and quite willing to talk to Gibbs, even with Mac and Harm listening in and Kate Todd taking notes.

"Lieutenant Musgrave was one of the finest young officers I've ever commanded. He could be tough on his men, but fair. I still find it difficult to believe that his suspending Corporal Dafalmair drove him to murder!"

"Corporal Dafalmair hasn't been proved guilty yet, Captain," Harm pointed out, his comment bringing a nod of concurrence from both Mac and Kate Todd.

Faul shrugged, "You're holding him, and the scuttlebutt is that he's confessed."

"I never knew a Marine Captain who believed scuttlebutt," Gibbs replied, as he caught sight of Mac's disapproving glare out of the corner of his eye. "Now, how did you prepare the day of the exercise?"

"I spent the morning in chalk-talk with the Navy aviators who were piloting the C-130."

"Yeah, remind me why you are using a Navy bird."

"Most of ours are deployed in Iraq," Faul replied.

"Did you eat lunch with them?" Mac asked.

"At the officers mess. After lunch we had a couple of dry runs, had another chalk talk and loaded up." Faul paused, waiting for some sort of response, but when none was forthcoming his air of affability dropped away and he asked rather sharply, "Why?"

Gibbs ignored Faul's question and instead came back with one of his own, "Do you have your para loft key, Captain?"

Foul stared at Gibbs for a slow count of three, before he rather impatiently snatched open the top drawer of his desk to produce a bunch of keys, selecting one, he wordlessly held it up so that Gibbs could see it.

"H'mm... Corporal Dafalmair must have lifted Lieutenant Musgrave's key long enough to have had a duplicate made..." Gibbs speculated. His words bringing a frown to Harm's forehead and he exchanged a quick look with Mac; it seemed to the JAG Commander that from Gibbs' tone of voice It was beginning to sound, despite his words, that the lead NCIS Agent was having seconds thoughts about Dafalmair's guilt.

Captain Faul sat a little straighter in his chair, "Corporal Dafalmair made a key to the para loft?"

"It's the only way he could have slipped in to sabotage those chutes." Gibbs hauled himself to his feet, and on standing reached across the desk to offer the Marine Captain his hand, "Thank you, Captain," he said, a sentiment echoed by Kate Todd.

Harm and Mac both briefly incline their heads in farewell, bringing a crisp, "Ma'am, Sir," in response from the Marine officer.

But just as Gibbs paused at the door to allow Harm and Mac to precede him, Faul called out, "Why did you just ask to see my key?"

"Agent Todd is new, just teaching her how to interview," Gibbs replied laconically, while Mac and Harm paused in the hall outside to hear what was said.

"The para loft was secured between the time the last chute was packed and seventeen hundred hours. And that's why you wanted to know what I was doing all day. You suspected me."

Kate looked from one man to the other, "If the Captain was a suspect, we would have read him his Article thirty-one rights, wouldn't we?"

Gibbs nodded once, "Very good, Agent Todd," he said approvingly as he stepped through the doorway into the hall beyond.

Captain Faul also stepped into the hallway to watch the JAG and NCIS investigators leave his building, where he was joined by his XO, Lieutenant Ploszewski, "All OK, sir? I thought I heard raised voices..."

"Yeah, everything's fine 'Ski... they were just checking to see if I had an alibi for the time the loft was supposed to have been secured."

"Supposed to have been?" Ploszewski queried.

"Yeah, it appears that sonofabitch Dafalmair got a duplicate key made and snuck back in there to rig Musgrave's chute..."

"Sonofoabitch is right!" the Lieutenant declared emphatically.

**lxxvii-lxxvii-lxxvii-lxxvii-lxxvii**

"The Captain have an alibi?" DiNozzo asked with a party of four returned to the conference room, as at the same time he handed his re-written report to Gibbs.

"He was nowhere near the rigging loft at the time the chutes were sabotaged," Harm told him as it appeared that nobody else was going to answer the young agent.

"So Dafalmair is definitely the dirtbag," DiNozzo said with evident satisfaction.

Kate Todd paused in the act of taking of her jacket, "Still leaves Fuentes, Ramsey and Brinkman."

"And Sergeant Fuentes supervised the riggers handing out the chutes," Gibbs said, as he read DiNozzo's summary of his interviews of the front of the file.

"Yeah, according to the statements I took he watched his riggers from the back of the truck," DiNozzo agreed.

"And Corporal Dafalmair participated," Gibbs added.

"Well… He was on suspension from rigging duties, not passing out chutes to jumpers," DiNozzo objected.

"He could have given the Lieutenant a dirty chute," Mac pointed out.

"What did you say, Colonel?" Gibbs asked as a sudden thought struck him.

"Corporal Dafalmair, he could have given Musgrave a sabotaged chute."

Gibbs shook his head, "No, Colonel, you said,'dirty'," and spinning on his heel, rushed across the room to where Lieutenant Musgrave's rucksack chute and harness, all contained in a large plastic evidence bag sat in accusatory silence on the side table in the far corner of the room.

"What gives?" Kate asked.

"With Gibbs, you never know!" DiNozzo confessed with a rueful grin, and turned to follow his team leader.

Gibbs pulled on a pair of latex gloves and pulled his knife from his pocket and slit the evidence bag open, and then reaching in, unhooked the reserve chute from the jump harness and placed it on the table, and gave it a thorough visual examination. Looking up at Mac, "You said dirty, and this chute _is _dirty... only to be expected from a chute that smashed through a tree and then the roof of an SUV."

Harm gave a disgusted snort as he saw the numbered label on the front of the chute, "Unlucky thirteen," but his comment went mostly unheard as Gibbs grabbed the ripcord handle and pulled, and pulled again, but the reserve chute pack stayed stubbornly closed.

Gibbs tore open the Velcro fastening that secured the flap that protected the ripcord mechanism, and froze. "The cone's been soldered. Musgrave couldn't have used this chute, it didn't matter that his reflexes were slowed by painkillers, he could not have used this chute."

For other pairs of eyes were drawn to the damning evidence, but Gibbs stared at it with a speculative look on his face.

"Call Captain Faul, tell him jump ops are back on the schedule, we've got our killer."

"Do I tell him whom?" Kate Todd asked.

"Nope, I don't want DNA evidence, I want this _bastard _to confess!" Gibbs said bitterly.

Kate nodded, and turned away, heading for the chief clerk's office, where she could find a telephone and the unit phone roster.

"How are we going to get him to confess?" DiNozzo asked.

Gibbs thrust the sabotaged reserve chute into DiNozzo's chest, the younger man's hands coming up automatically to hold it in place. "You wear this, when we jump!"

"Jump?" DiNozzo asked.

"Jump." Gibbs confirmed.

"You got BDUs?" Harm asked Gibbs.

"Nope, but the supply section has" Gibbs replied.

Harm nodded "I'll go across with you."

"What for?" Mac demanded hurriedly.

Harm looked at her as if she had just asked the dumbest question ever, "To get fitted with BDUs, boots and a helmet."

Mac looked aghast, "Harm, you're just getting over a cold, and you've been complaining all day about impacted sinuses, there is no way that you're fit enough to take a flight, let alone make a jump!"

"Mac, I'll be fine, just got some sniffles left," he protested.

"Harm, don't make me pull seniority, the only way I can let you get on that C-130 this evening is if you can show me a medical report clearing you to fly! And if you show up expecting to get on that flight without a medical, then I shall inform the pilot that you aren't fit to fly!"

Harm looked at his watch, and saw to his dismay that there was no way he could get to the base medical facility in time to get a flight medical completed before the jumpers moved to the AP, not if he also wanted again across to supply and draw the necessary equipment."

"Mac…" he began to protest, but then saw the warning flash in her eye at the same moment as he became conscious of the broad grins on the faces of Gibbs and DiNozzo. "Okay, you win, this time. But we haven't finished this conversation yet!"

Satisfied with her victory, however insignificant it might be, Mac was prepared now to withdraw with grace from the field. "Whatever you say Harm."

Harm glowered at what he heard as a patronising tone, "I take it," he said with awful sarcasm, "that I have the Lieutenant Colonel's permission to at least observe the distribution of the chutes at the AP?"

"Of course, Harm, I'll even be there myself," Mac said sweetly.

"Will you want to lift across to New River… I could get Kate to drive you… Gibbs offered in a carefully neutral voice.

"Thank you, Agent Gibbs, but that won't be necessary, will it, Harm?"

"Yeah, whatever!" the disgruntled Navy aviator replied.


	78. The World Well Lost

**78**

**The World Well Lost**

Mac fought desperately to keep a straight face as she sat in the Lexus' front passenger seat. Harm avoiding looking at her, was still furiously angry with her, as was apparent from the way he drove, but not even Harm's anger at what he saw as Mac's unwarranted interference allowed him to mistreat the Lexus, and although he drove aggressively, his gear changes were slick and graunch-free.

He was still bitterly silent when he pulled the Lexus to a halt no more than twenty or so yards from where five dozen or so paratroopers were being marshalled into twin lines by the H&S Company First Sergeant under the critical eyes of Captain Faul and Lieutenant Ploszewksi while Sergeant Fuentes and his three Corporals – Dafalmair included, Harm noted with surprise, stood in the back of an open-topped MK23 7 ton MTVR handing out parachutes.

To Harm and Mac's admittedly inexperienced eyes the operation seemed to be progressing quickly and smoothly, the lines moving rapidly and as each man collected his main parachute and reserve he moved off to the side where the packs were quickly and efficiently secured to his jump harness by four BDU-clad Marines who it seemed, by the lack of harness, would not be jumping.

However it seemed that the process was not proceeding quickly or efficiently enough for the Company's XO. With what looked like a muttered aside to Captain Fail, Ploszewski turned and, disrupting the lines, shouldered his way to the rear of the vehicle and stretching up a hand for assistance, clambered up onto the truck's cargo bed, from where, once he had settled his voice could be clearly heard by the two JAGs as he forcefully exhorted the riggers to greater efforts while he too pitched in to help, tossing the packed parachutes down to the waiting troopers. Sergeant Fuentes' face darkened as the rhythm of off-loading parachutes became disjointed, and although the packs were distributed at a greater speed a bottleneck soon formed to the side where the four non-jumpers were being besieged by the growing number of paratroopers clamouring to have their 'chutes clipped to their harnesses.

"Interesting," Harm remarked, his irritation with Mac temporarily forgotten, as he nodded in the direction of the truck. "I wonder if that's his normal practice… Because nobody mentioned the Lieutenant helping out," he added, his voice heavy with irony.

Mac shot a quick look at Harm, wondering what he was driving at and then as she looked back to paratroopers, understanding dawned. "Certainly seems to be a case of the more haste the less speed," she agreed.

Harm nodded, "It looks like he didn't reserve his attitude just for us, seems like he hates everyone, but yeah, I noticed that too... but... if Ploszewski pulled the same stunt two nights ago, then all of a sudden we've got another suspect."

"How?" Mac asked, "we've pretty well satisfied ourselves that the sabotage must have taken place in the rigging loft between when the last parachute was packed in the loft was secured, and when the chutes were loaded onto the truck. Whoever messed with them, and Dafalmair still looks to be the best suspect, would have had to have had a key to get into the loft…"

"What's to say that Ploszewski hasn't got a key?" Harm demanded, a shade of irritation still evident in his tone.

Mac slid another sideways glance her partner's way but decided to let him ride on his tone – for the moment, anyway. "His name didn't come up when we asked Captain Faul who the key-holders were," she pointed out mildly.

"Yeah... and according to doNitto, or whatever his name is, the store clerk was a bit 'fuzzy' about the details of the Maine who had a key cut..."

"And who paid for the key and the brass stripper with cash," Mac added thoughtfully.

On board the truck Lieutenant Ploszewski had become aware of the log jam at the harness clipping stage and with a shouted obscenity, clearly audible to Harm and Mac, and probably to every pair of ears within a hundred yard radius he yelled, "Can't you ass-holes do anything right? Do I have to come and show you how the simplest jobs should be done? Again?"

The parachute riggers on the truck shot him a barrage of looks which even from the distance at which Harm and Mac observed, were full of dislike, which turned to grins as the evidently unpopular Lieutenant grabbed the side of the vehicle's cargo bed and vaulted out and down onto the tarmac, only to crumple on impact with a yell of agony.

Further proof, if proof were needed, of how the XO was regarded by the men of his company was evinced by the manner in which none of them rushed to his aid, but rather stood around and watched, some with smirks of amusement on their faces as he writhed in pain, his hands clasping his lower leg. It was left to Captain Faul and the First Sergeant to got to the injured officer's side, where they knelt to give assistance.

"Come on! I want to hear this!" Harm said urgently, his face set and his tone of voice leaving no room for argument as he slipped from behind the wheel and headed in the direction of the paratroopers. By the time he and Mac had reached the huddle somebody had cut off the Lieutenant's jump boot, a first aid kit had been produced and a support bandage was being wound around Ploszewski's foot and ankle.

Captain Faul's face was grim as he looked down at his injured subordinate, "Damn it. 'Ski, what the hell did you have to go and pull a dumb stunt like that!"

"Shit, sir! I'll be fine, it's not broken. Just lace my boot back up, real tight, and I'll be fine to jump!"

"Nuh-huh! Ain't gonna happen!" Faul said decidedly. "Horvath!" he called to one of the day's non-jumpers, "Take my Humvee and get the Lieutenant to the base hospital! You ain't going nowhere until that ankle's been x-rayed, and you certainly won't be jumping tonight! Horvath, grab someone else and get him loaded on board. And once Lieutenant Ploszewski's been treated, get my Humvee to the DZ!"

Harm watched Ploszewksi being supported, still protesting his ability to complete the jump, into the OIC's Humvee and shook his head as it was then driven off back towards the bridge that crossed the river that ran between the air station and Camp LeJeune proper.

Meanwhile the Company First Sergeant had taken control of the milling crowd of paratroopers and his pithy comments on their character, breeding and abilities soon had them sitting in formation as they waited for the last few men to be issued with their chutes and have them clipped to their harness.

"Leaves them an officer short for the jump," Harm observed in carefully non-committal tones to Mac as they both turned to watch the last few chutes being distributed.

Mac gave him a hard look, she hadn't been fooled for even a second by Harm's seemingly innocuous comment. "And an officer short they will remain!" she said decidedly. "I meant what I said, Harm, unless you can come up with a flight surgeon's letter saying you're fit to fly, you're staying on terra firma!"

"But, Mac..." Harm began to protest, only to be cut short.

"We are not repeating this conversation, Commander! Understood?!" Mac snapped.

"Fine, Okay, fine..." Harm grumbled, but only half-heartedly. He had known that Mac was more than likely to snap at him for trying to resurrect the subject, but there was always a chance, albeit a very slim one, that he might have been able to change her mind. Besides, there was something niggling at the back of his mind, something so obvious that it was eluding his conscious mind.

He turned to Mac to ask if there was anything that might have troubled her but found her staring in disbelief as a dark blue sedan rolled onto the hard-standing and BDU clad Agents Gibbs and DiNozzo climbed out of the car and opening the boot pulled out two parachutes and crossed the few feet of tarmac that separated them from Captain Faul and his First Sergeant.

Faul watched in disbelief as the two agents neared him, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded incredulously.

Gibbs gave him a confident grin, while DiNozzo looked as if he might be sick any second now, "NCIS training jump, Cap'n," Gibbs said easily, "Got the indemnities already signed..." he dug a hand into his pocket and pulled out some sheets of folded paper.

"No way!" The First Sergeant retorted, "Sir...!" he turned to his Company Commander.

Faul stared, stone-faced, at Gibbs for a few long seconds, and then his face split into a grin, "You really expect me to believe that? But, hell, why not?! I don't often get a chance to throw a couple of NCIS Agents out of an airplane!"

Mac turned to Kate who had strolled across to join the two JAGs, "What the hell?"

Kate shrugged and grinned, "Boys and their toys, I guess. DiNozzo's been bugging Gibbs to let him jump ever since we got here, although, now he's got his druthers, it looks like he might just wet himself any second!"

Mac's answering grin matched the female NCIS agent's and both women let out a brief chuckle. Harm looked at them in disbelief, "You don't think perhaps that Gibbs and DiNozzo might have a serious purpose in joining the exercise?" he challenged them.

"Like what?" Kate asked.

Harm very nearly shrugged, "I'm not sure... but earlier Gibbs was all urgency, and champing at the bit to make his suspect confess... but now...now he's all kinda laid back..."

"I'm sure he knows what he's doing, Harm," Mac contributed.

"I suppose so... maybe..." Harm reluctantly conceded as in response to Captain Faul's orders, the paratroopers helped each other to their feet and turned to face the aircraft to begin boarding over the tail ramp.

"Well... what now?" Kate Todd asked the two JAGs.

"We wait until they get dirtside again," Harm answered.

"But in the meantime... how about some dinner?" Mac suggested, "I'm hungry!"

"Never knew you when you weren't," Harm grinned and checked his watch, "But, yeah, I guess some chow wouldn't go amiss."

**lxxviii-lxxviii-lxxviii-lxxviii-lxxviii**

Kate drove the NCIS sedan back to Lejeune, following Harm and Mac in the Lexus to the mess hall. Once seated at the table Harm cudgelled his brains as to what was needling him, paying only superficial attention to what the two women were saying to each other until, still distracted by his thoughts and reaching for the mustard he jogged his glass of water causing some of its contents to slot over the rim and onto the table.

"Hey, watch it, flyboy!" Mac teased him, "It's a good job you're not that clumsy in the air!"

"Flyboy?" Kate Todd asked her eyes alight with curiosity.

"Yeah, he used to be a Navy pilot before he became a…"

"That's it!" Harm exclaims, "That's what's been bugging me! He was too damned clumsy!"

"Who was?" Mac asked, although it was evident that the same question had been on Kate Todd's lips.

"Ploszewski, that's who!" Harm said hastily gathering together the remnants of his meals and piling them on his tray. "He's a master parachutist; that means he's done a lot of jumps, in all sorts of conditions, and then he twists, or sprains an ankle dropping off the back of a truck? No, I don't believe it!"

Mac and Kate exchanged glances, although Kate hadn't witnessed the incident, Mac had and she was chagrined to think that she too had missed the obvious. "Damn! I should have seen that! But why...?"

"That's what I intend to find out! First stop, base hospital!" Harm almost spat.

"But..." Kate started to say.

"But nothing!" Harm interrupted her, "I never did get the connection between that dirty reserve 'chute and Gibbs' sudden confidence that he knew who the killer was. C'mon – if you're coming!"

**lxxviii-lxxviii-lxxviii-lxxviii-lxxviii**

"Are you quite sure, Corpsman?" Harm asked insistently.

"Yes, sir. Quite sure. There's been no Lieutenant Ploszewski come in for treatment today, in fact no-one from Force Recon has been in today – sir!" the young Corpsman maintained stoutly.

Harm turned to the two women, "That more or less proves it – there's nothing wrong with the Lieutenant!"

"There's always the possibility that he was hurt worse than he let on and that he's too badly injured to make it this far," Kate objected.

"No, that won't fly, Kate," Mac said, "He had a Marine with him and he was in a vehicle. If he was that badly injured then an ambulance would have been sent for him..." she turned to the Corpsman who had heard her comment and who answered her next question before she could ask it.

"No, ma'am," he said, his fingers flying over his computer keyboard, "There have been no calls for an ambulance for anyone of that name today!"

**lxxviii-lxxviii-lxxviii-lxxviii-lxxviii**

Mac and Kate both winced as Harm slammed the door to the BOQ shut behind him, so hard that it seemed that the whole building must shake, and definitely hard enough for the noise to be heard as they sat in the Lexus at the kerbside, some thirty feet away. And certainly loud enough to incite a barrage of protesting shouts from other officers in the BOQ.

Not that Mac nor Kate had needed the audible evidence, Harm's mood was plain to read from the stony expression on his face and in the set of his shoulders as he stormed down the path back towards the waiting car.

He didn't quite slam the door as he climbed back into the driver's seat but he did hammer the ball of his fist onto the steering wheel, "Damn! Where the hell has that sonofabitch got to? He can't just have vanished!"

"That's been the problem, hasn't it?" Kate suggested, "He's been practically invisible... I didn't even know he existed until today..."

"Yeah," Mac agreed thoughtfully, "Invisible to us, but he seemed to adopt a higher profile among the troops..."

"Another form of invisibility," Harm commented cynically, "A guy keeps pulling those sort of stunts like we saw this afternoon and everyone thinks, 'Oh that's just 'Ski being 'Ski,' and nobody ever thinks anything more of it!"

"But that doesn't answer the question as to his location!" Mac protested.

"The O Club?" Kate suggested.

Harm shook his head, "Nope, he's faking an injury; with a sprained ankle he should be flat on his back with a cold compress on it, not boozing it up in the O Club, and he wouldn't go there not pretending to be injured, once word gets out that he faked an injury to get out of a jump, he's finished in Force Recon..."

"And the Corps," Mac agreed. "So he's gone some-place private, where if he's seen it won't be known that he's supposed to be injured..."

"Or he'll be with someone who doesn't care that he's faking it..." Kate added.

The three exchanged a look and then Kate and Mac said simultaneously, "Girlfriend!"

"Yeah," Harm agreed, "But who is she, and where does she live?"

Mac looked at him and snorted in disgust, "If we knew that we wouldn't be sitting here beating our gums, would we!"

**lxxviii-lxxviii-lxxviii-lxxviii-lxxviii**

"Admiral, sir," Yeoman First Class Jason Tiner tapped nervously on the office door, "CP's just been on the line, the SecNav's on his way up!"

A J Chegwidden groaned silently and put his pen down, with his top two investigators out of the office and that blasted man Baxter causing ill-feeling amongst those remaining, thank God for Harriet Sims rapid reading of the situation and quarantining him on the floor below. But even so, the last thing he needed was an unannounced visit from the political head of the Navy.

Especially, he told himself dryly, as he stood to greet his visitors, when that official was not alone, but had in tow two other individuals, one on his late fifties with the self-satisfied appearance of a professional politician and the other, in his twenties who stuck to the older man like a shadow. Probably a flunky of some sort, Chegwidden guessed.

"Mister Secretary," he acknowledged his boss in the expectation that Secretary Sheffield would perform the necessary introductions. He was not disappointed.

"Admiral Chegwidden, may I introduce you to the Honourable Arthur C Musgrave, the junior Senator from the State of Alabama, and his senatorial aide, Martin Peterson."

"Senator, Mister Peterson," A J acknowledged the introduction, and although now he knew his visitors' identity he also knew why they had made the effort to come and see him, he asked, "How may I help you?"

"Well Admiral, it's thisaways, me an' my kinfolk are none too happy that our boy died down there, an' I'm takin' plenty o' heat from his momma as to how come it's takin' so all-fired long to find out what went wrong..." Senator Musgrave replied.

Chegwidden winced, but he wasn't about to be fooled by the Alabaman's home-folks style of speaking. Senator Musgrave's record as a sharp, astute and cunning politician was well known in DC, even to hose who took little interest in politics, and in the position which he held A J Chegwidden could not afford to be one of those, so his personal distaste for the murky underworld of politics had had to be put on hold while he got a feeling for the hidden undercurrents.

"Senator Musgrave, I have my two most experienced and most senior investigators at Camp LeJeune even as we speak, working together with NCIS to find put exactly what happened to Lieutenant Musgrave..."

"I hope to God your boys are better than that rabble NCIS sent down there! A washed up Gunnery Sergeant who, no doubt has as his first aim to keep the name of his beloved Corps clean, a failed cop from Baltimore an' other p'lice departmen's afore that an' a former secret service agent who had to resign 'cause she couldn't stay out of another officer's bed!"

"I can assure you Senator, that my people are of a much higher calibre than that!" Chegwidden bristled.

"So you say, so you say!," the junior Senator from Alabama scoffed, "But if they're so danged good, how come they ain't come up with an answer yet? What are they doin' down there?"

"They are carrying out a thorough investigation into the circumstances of Lieutenant Musgrave's death, and once they have found the reason then anyone responsible whether through intent or negligence will be held to account for their actions or the lack of hem. Contrarily if it was an accident then they will suggest a set of protocols to be put in place to prevent any other family suffering such an unnecessary loss!" Chegwidden said firmly.

"And which avenue are they pursuin'?" Musgrave demanded aggressively.

"At the moment Senator, I don't know... the investigation is still under way." Chegwidden replied.

"Don't your people talk to you? Don't they report back to say how much – if any – progress they've made?" Musgrave asked in disbelief.

"I have every confidence in my people, Senator, and I don't require them to waste their time and mine in filing negative reports. Time that they and I both believe would be better spent in carrying out their investigations."

Musgrave gave a snort of what might have been cynical amusement, "Was that aimed at me Admiral? A not-so-subtle hint that _I'm_ wastin' your time?"

Chegwidden grinned mirthlessly, "I would have to be a very stupid Admiral to suggest that to a Senator wouldn't I? But seeing as how you raised the subject, is that how you see it, Senator?" Chegwidden ignored the SecNav's gasp of shock and kept his eyes fixed firmly on Senator Musgrave.

The politician waved down Secretary Sheffield's almost instinctive protest, and then to both Admiral and SecNav's astonishment gave vent to a wheezy chuckle, "Shoulda larned by now... never argufy with a lawyer!" Then he turned serious again, "But can you assure me, Admiral that everything that can be done is being done?"

"Senator, as I said, I have my two best on this case. Rabb is unorthodox but has a way of seeing to the heart of things, while MacKenzie is a bulldog. Individually they are very good; as a team they are practically unbeatable. Even Secretary Sheffield, who is no great fan of Commander Rabb, must acknowledge that!"

"Edward?" The senator turned to the SecNav.

Sheffield nodded, albeit a touch unwillingly, "It's true, Art. They do have a habit of completing successful investigations."

Musgrave nodded in acceptance of the SecNav's words, "I hoped that you would have some news I could pass on to our boy's momma and poppa, Admiral... but..." his shoulders sagged and all the pompousness seemed to leak out of him like air from a punctured tire and beneath the bluster Chegwidden could see a tired, grieving man who wanted answers as to how and why his beloved grandson had died.

"Senator, I have never been in your situation," he spoke gravely but hoped he was also conveying sympathy, "but I have had to explain to grieving families the loss of a son, husband or brother, and I wish I had something concrete for you to pass on to your family, but for the moment all I can say is that everything that can be done, is being done and will be done to find out what if anything lies behind your grandson's death."

Musgrave straightened his shoulders, his moment of emotional display now passed, "Very well, Admiral, I guess I can afford to let you have a little more time – but only a little, we need answers, an' we need 'em right smart!"

Senator Musgrave stood without waiting for Chegwidden's reply and turned to Secretary Sheffield, "We're done here!" he announced and with a curt nod to the JAG he turned and strode towards the door, followed by his aide, who hadn't said a word or allowed an expression to appear on his face throughout the entire conversation.

The SecNav also stood and with a nod at Chegwidden said, "Thank you for your time, Admiral," and followed the Senator, leaving Chegwidden to wonder if Sheffield's words were sincerely meant or were just another dig at the apparently slow pace of the investigation.

For a short while after his visitors departed Chegwidden toyed with the idea of calling MacKenzie and Rabb and lighting a fire under them, but his own words prevented him from doing that; he did trust them to work efficiently and quickly to uncover the truth and any interference on his part would only slow the investigation.

**lxxviii-lxxviii-lxxviii-lxxviii-lxxviii**

The interior of the Navy C-130 was crowded with the sixty four jumpers, already mostly large men made even bulkier by their jump gear and crowded together on canvas-web bench like seats than ran in two facing double rows the length of the fuselage.

Gibbs had taken care that he and DiNozzo should be seated opposite the parachute riggers and their company commander, all of whom were eyeing the two NCIS agents curiously, until at last Corporal Ramsay could contain his curiosity any longer.

"What are you doing here, sir?" he yelled at DiNozzo.

"I always wanted to jump!" Din Nozzle shouted back over the noise of the airplane's engines, "Agent Gibbs, just came along to laugh!"

DiNozzo's answer brought a chuckle from the troopers who could hear him, but their amusement was cut short when the Agent called out "Oh, no!"

"What's up? Chickening out?" Gibbs demanded.

"Nope... but I just noticed the number on this reserve 'chute... it's number thirteen! My first jump, and my reserve is number thirteen!"

"Wouldn't have bothered Lieutenant Musgrave, would it, guys?" Gibbs grinned across at the paratroopers.

The riggers exchanged silent looks as Gibbs continued, "Any of you superstitious?"

"No, sir!" they replied almost in chorus.

"Great! Why don't one of you exchange reserves with DiNozzo?"

"Not a problem!" Dafalmair exclaimed as he started to unclip his reserve from his harness.

"Hey, wait up!" DiNozzo yelled, causing the Corporal to hesitate as the NCIS agent continued, "Yours is number four – very bad luck in China!"

"We're not in China!" Gibbs objected.

"I don't care! How about you?" DiNozzo turned his attention to Corporal Ramsey, "Hey great, number eight! The best of Chinese lucky numbers!"

Ramsey shrugged, "Sure, why not?" and with a grin at his fellow riggers, meant to highlight the absurdity of the situation, he unclipped his reserve and exchanged it with the number thirteen reserve being held out to him by DiNozzo.

"Thanks, man," DiNozzo said in a heartfelt manner, and with a relieved grin and a proprietary pat on his reserve chute relaxed back into the webbing seat.

He wasn't allowed to remain relaxed for long, as in a few minutes the jump master stood and faced the four rows of seated paratroopers, "Stand up!" he called, using his hands to emphasise his commands.

"Hook up!" Sixty four hands took hold of their owners' parachute static lines and clipped them to the wires running the length of the fuselage.

"Lieutenant Musgrave ride you, Corporal?" Gibbs challenged Ramsey as they stood side by side.

"He rode everyone, sir!" the Corporal replied.

"About drug-dealing?"

"I don't know what you're talking about sir!"

"I've read your SRB, Corporal! You have a sealed juvie record and a waiver on enlistment. A little bird tells me that you got busted in high school for supplying drugs to your pals. You took up that hobby again, didn't you? And when Lieutenant Musgrave found out you rigged his chute fail! And that's his reserve you're wearing now!"

"Sir, the Corps gave me a second chance!"

"But it wasn't enough was it? You couldn't leave the drugs alone! So you rigged his chutes! You planned to get to the Lieutenant before anyone and switch out reserves with him, but you got hung up in a tree and never got the chance!"

"No sir!"

Gibbs hand flashed down to his weapons belt, and reappeared with a knife in his fist. With a quick motion of his arm he slashed Ramsey's static line. "Prove it!" he yelled.

"What the hell?" Captain Faul yelled as he pushed past the two paratroopers between himself and Gibbs. "He can't jump now!"

"Why not, he's got a reserve!" Gibbs replied coolly.

"He's not jumping with only a reserve!" Faul insisted.

"Hell, Cap'n, I don't care, if it's the only way to get this whack-job offa my back!" Ramsey retorted as he pushed his way back into position.

Gibbs and DiNozzo exchanged startled looks; Ramsey's reactions were not those of a man who realised that his reserve chute had also been sabotaged. The story that Musgrave had been too juiced up to attempt to use his reserve must have travelled like wildfire through the company.

Gibbs had to admit defeat, either Ramsey was innocent or he was a far better poker player than the NCIS agent had given him credit for. "No, you can't jump," he admitted, "The reserve's been sabotaged too..."

"It was a Goddammed test?" the now pale-faced and infuriated Corporal yelled. "You sonofabitch! I ought to..."

"Stand down, Corporal!" Faul interrupted pushing his way between his man and Gibbs. "I'll deal with this!" he turned to Gibbs, "Dammit, I've got half a mind to kick the pair of you out with any damn' chutes. And I will be sending a report of your methods to higher command!

Gibbs was furious, but in fairness more at himself for having misread the case. Once he had accessed Ramsey's sealed juvenile records, everything had seemed to fall neatly into place. But now the jump master was yelling at the Paratroopers to stand in the door; the red light turned green and Gibbs and DiNozzo along with the other troopers launched themselves into the night sky, leaving a still furious Corporal Ramsey the only member of Force Recon still aboard the C-130.

**lxxviii-lxxviii-lxxviii-lxxviii-lxxviii**

Harm drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in sheer frustration. He had rarely been so convinced that he had the right suspect but lack of knowledge as to his whereabouts was wearing on his temper, already frayed by the events of the last few days, and topped off by what he saw as Mac's unwarranted prohibition on his participating in the jump, not that that was relevant any more. His brooding was abruptly terminated by Mac's exclamation, "Horvath!"

"Horvath?" Kate queried.

"Dammit, yes!" Harm replied, "Horvath, the guy Faul sent with Ploszewski to the base hospital!"

Harm's comment did little to enlighten Kate and it was left to Mac to explain that Horvath had driven the Lieutenant away from the scene of his mishap, and if anyone knew where the Company XO had gone it would be his driver.

Harm knocked the Lexus drive back into gear and leaving two strips of burned rubber on the tarmac he headed back to the Force Recon's enlisted men's barracks.

"The Lieutenant,sir?" Horvath replied when Harm found him, "He wanted taking to Lieutenant Musgrave's quarters, sir. Said he needed to speak to Mrs Musgrave..."

Once again Harm almost ran from the building back to the vehicle where Kate and Mac were waiting. "Well?" his partner demanded.

"Musgrave's quarters!" Harm declared triumphantly, "I should have guessed, he was in a awful hurry to see her yesterday, too!"

"What do you mean?" Kate asked, "Do you think that she and Ploszewski are lovers?"

"I don't know..." Harm admitted, "It seems unlikely... You can't keep that sort of thing secret on a military base, somebody almost always finds out, and then the scuttlebutt starts..."

"More likely to be a Uriah the Hittite type thing," Mac confirmed Harm's thinking, "Ploszewski fancies himself in love with Musgrave's wife, kills Musgrave and thinks he's leaving the field open for himself..."

All three fell silent as they considered the alternate scenarios while Harm drive from the barracks area into the section of officer country where neat rows of duplex houses accommodated those company grade officers and their families fortunate enough to be allocated government housing.

"There, number one oh nine!" Mac called out as they drew level with the Musgrave house.

Harm pulled the Lexus to a stop and all three occupants of the vehicle climbed down and walked up to the front door, frowns appearing on their faces as they heard raised voices coming from inside the house.

"But I did it for you, for us!" Ploszewski's voice could be heard as he raised it in a yell of frustration.

"But you killed him!" Musgrave's widow's voice was raised in a plaintive wail.

"It was the only way!"

"But I told you back then that I didn't love you, that I loved him... I thought you were our friend!"

"I am your friend, and I could be so much more..." Ploszewski's voice lowered to a conversational level causing Harm, Mac and Kate to strain their ears to hear what was being said.

"No! Get away from me! Get away, get out!"

"Ah, sweetheart, you know you don't mean that, you know you love me. I'll get a transfer and we can move away, maybe to twenty nine palms, get way from this place, make a fresh start..." the rogue officer's voice dropped to a cajoling murmur.

"No! I said get away. Get out, get out, get out! I'm calling the police!"

"The hell you are!" his voice rose to a shout again.

Harm looked at the two women, "I've heard enough!"

"Me too," Kate agreed, and confirming Mac's earlier suspicions, she drew her SiG from its holster and racked a round into the chamber. "On a count of three," she told Harm.

"One, two, three!" Harm threw open the door and launched himself into the room where he saw Ploszewski grappling with a blonde woman who was frantically trying to break free of his grip while at the same time trying to reach the telephone on the side table.

Harm didn't hesitate, he grabbed the Force Recon officer by the shoulder and spun him to face a crashing punch. But instead of going down Ploszewski merely shook his head and squared up to Harm.

Mac pulled the trembling Mrs Musgrave out of the way and it was left to Kate to level her weapon at Ploszewski and yell "Freeze!"

Fort a second it looked as if the Lieutenant was about to attack one or all three of the intruders but sanity regained control over anger as he saw Kate's trigger finger slip from alongside the trigger guard onto the trigger itself.

"Lieutenant Ploszewski, I am arresting you on suspicion of murder. You have the right to remain silent, if you give up that right anything you do say may be used against you in evidence at any subsequent court-martial..." Kate intoned the Article thirty-one rights as she fished a pair of handcuffs from the pouch on her belt and tossed them to Harm.


	79. The Path of True Love

**79**

**The Path of True Love**

At least it had been Kate, one of _his_ agents, who had made the collar, Jethro Gibbs thought sourly as he looked across the table at the two JAG officers who seemed, to him, to be on the verge of breaking out into smug grins.

It was fast approaching midday and the grey-haired agent was beginning to feel the effects of his last night's adventure, as well as the effects of a very sarcastic interview with Second Division Force Recon's CO, who was not at all happy with events that had taken place on board the C-130. Even then there had been no rest, both Ploszewski and Mrs Musgrave had had to be interviewed. And through all of it, except the interviews, the seemingly faintly mocking presence of Commander Rabb and Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie had loomed like a thundercloud.

His brooding was broken by Mac who coughed politely, "And what did Mrs Musgrave have to say?"

Ploszewski had said only one word, "Lawyer," and now Gibbs was waiting for the SJA from Division HQ to arrive to represent Ploszewski before he could interview him. But Mrs Musgrave, bewildered and as upset as she was had come up with enlightening news. It was, however, a story as old as the hills.

"She and Ploszewski were in high school together,and they dated some. They even kept in touch through college, after which Ploszewski was commissioned on completing NROTC. Even then he and Mrs Musgrave stayed in touch, on a friendly basis, and then Plosewski introduced her to his good buddy, the then Second Lieutenant Musgrave,... and well, you can more or less figure out what happened from there on in?"

Mac nodded, "Yeah, Plosewski convinced himself that not only was he still in love with her, but that she loved him too, and the only obstacle in the way of their future happiness was her husband?" Mac made a moue of disgust as she finished speaking.

Gibbs nodded, "Well, that's her story... we'll be waiting to see what his version of events are. But I've a feeling that we are going to be looking at a 'he said, she said' scenario."

"Burt only as far as motive is concerned," Harm observed, "Your Agent Todd overheard him admit culpability for Lieutenant Musgrave's death," he finished with a smile across the table at Kate Todd, who felt her knees turn to jello and the colour mount to her cheeks.

"That's true enough!" Gibbs grunted grudgingly, his eyes not missing Kate's reaction to the smile, nor the wedding band on Commander Rabb's hand. "So what's next for you two? You gonna wait for my report?"

Mac and Harm looked at each other in unspoken communication and then Mac faced front again. "No, we were sent down here to satisfy Senator Musgrave and to help out with your investigation..." Mac felt she could afford to be diplomatic now the case was solved , "...so, now that the killer is under lock and key, I figure we'll grab a bite to eat in the mess-hall, and then start back to DC. We'll wait for the full NCIS report to make its way through channels to JAG HQ, I'm sure it won't be that much of a wait. Will it, Agent Gibbs?" she finished sweetly.

Gibbs was almost certain that MacKenzie was mocking him, but all he could do under the circumstances was mutter, "No... it wont be too long before it lands on your desk!"

Mac shared another look with Harm, "Good," she said, as they both stood, "I look forward to reading it

**lxxix-lxxix-lxxix-lxxix-lxxix**

Commander Barbara Saunders allowed herself a brief, very brief, smile of satisfaction as she looked at the latest document to have arrived on her desk. It was a witness statement from a Lieutenant Commander Eve Sorenson at Key West, alleging further sexual harassment and fraternisation by Teddy Lindsey, and duly signed and notarised by the SJA at Pensacola. That made a total of ten witness statements, all accusing Lindsey of conduct unbecoming and conduct to the prejudice of good order and discipline, and all alleging the same MO. She'd got him dead to rights, but Babs knew she had to tread carefully, five of those complaints alleged that the women had had sex with Lindsey in return for promises of patronage. In none of those cases had patronage been forthcoming, and it was inevitable that defence counsel – not that she had a very high opinion of Baxter - would try to show these complaints as the vengeance of petty minded women who had misunderstood the whole situation from A through Z,

Still Lieutenant Commander Sorenson's name was another to be added to the witness list, so Babs opened the relevant document on her computer and duly typed in the Lieutenant Commander's details to the list, in alphabetical order, below Martinelli, Pearson and Rabb and above Toranama, which list, pretty soon, she would have to comply with the Brady law and turn over all the prosecution evidence to Baxter.

**lxxix-lxxix-lxxix-lxxix-lxxix**

Mac swallowed, uncomfortably she realised, as her throat protested. For a second she wondered why and then realisation dawned. She shot a venomous glare at Harm and said – croaked – "Harm we need to stop, find somewhere I can get a bottle of cold water... and something for a sore throat..." she tailed off, waiting for a crack of schadenfreude fuelled laughter from her partner, but to her surprise, he quickly turned his head to look at her before switching his eyes back to the thankfully almost empty US-117.

"Coming down with a cold, Mac?" he asked sympathetically.

Perversely, his sympathy only irritated the Marine, "No, I'm coming down with _your_ damned cold!" she snapped.

Harm winced, in his case the cold had, as he had known it would be right from the start a real doozy, and the road ahead being clear for at least half a mile he risked another glance at his partner. She didn't look too bad, yet, but as sympathetic as he felt, he knew the sore throat was only the start of the symptoms and it wouldn't be too long before she started sneezing, and feeling with each sneeze that her head would explode, he hoped that they would have gotten back to Falls Church before the sneezing started. He tried to remember what the last turning on the highway had been... fifteen... so that would mean... he conjured up a mental image of the map... that the next exit, exit fourteen would be Fremont, North Carolina, and it couldn't be too many miles ahead.

Harm nodded, in the expectation that Mac would be looking at him, "Okay, the next off-ramp should be for Fremont... it's a couple of miles before there's a gas station, and they'll have water, and if they don't have any over the counter cold remedies, we'll just have to look for a pharmacy. It's not too many miles ahead, so just hang tight, Marine!" he finished encouragingly.

"Yeah, fine, whatever!" Mac grumped and relapsed into a self-pitying sulk. Damn Harmon Rabb and his germs anyhow!

**lxxix-lxxix-lxxix-lxxix-lxxix**

By mutual agreement Loren and Jen had decided against wearing uniforms for Gloria's funeral, to do so they felt would only draw attention to themselves and lead to speculation as to why two members of the Navy were attending the funeral, speculation that they instinctively felt would be best left unfounded for fear it might open up inquiries into Gloria's role in life.

So it was that the two women arrived at the Charity Baptist Church on Lewinsville Road in Dranesville in Jen's new Sebring in not quite matching black, long sleeved and knee-length dresses with dark pantihose. Well, Loren was wearing a dress, but it had taken two evenings of searching the maternity wear stores in Arlington, Falls Church, Annandale and Tyson's Corner shopping malls to find a flattering maternity smock for Jen.

There were a group of sombrely dressed people, maybe about thirty all told gathered in the church's parking lot and as the two climbed out of the Sebring one of the men in the group detached himself and walked to meet them.

"Good afternoon... I'm guessing that you are Loren and Jennifer?" he asked with a grave smile

Jen looked at him in mild surprise, she wasn't quite sure what she was expecting but it wasn't this extremely well-spoken, well dressed man of obvious mixed heritage, his face showing a blend of oriental, maybe Korean, and Caucasian features.

Loren cast a quick glance at Jen and seeing that the young woman was, for the moment, tongue-tied she answered for them both, "Yes, I'm Loren and this is Jennifer..." she held out her hand as she spoke and had it taken in a firm grasp.

"Hello, I'm Anthony Heywood, Gloria's husband, I'm glad you could make it!" he replied, pleasantly surprised by the firmness of Loren's return handshake.

Jen nodded gravely, "I wish it could have been under better circumstances..." she said sadly.

Anthony nodded, "No, it's not the best of times... but I am glad you could make it... I understand that you were with Gloria when she... when she di... when she was killed... If you can, I'd like to know a little about how it happened, apart from the official 'she died in the line of duty'..."

Loren exchanged a quick look with Jen and then both turning gazes full of sympathy to Anthony, Jen said, "We'll tell you what we can, but you need to understand that some of what happened is classified, and need to know, and as much as we would like to tell you everything, there are some things..."

Anthony nodded, "I appreciate that, Mrs Rabb, and anything at all will help. Now, I suspect you've spent long enough on your feet, let me walk you into the church..."

Both Loren and Jen looked at each in relief as they realised that it was a closed casket service, the casket itself draped in the flag and on top of which was a large framed portrait of Gloria in her college graduation cap and gown. It was no more than five years or six years old, yet she looked absurdly young as she clutched her diploma and grinned happily at the camera.

Jen couldn't tell how long the service was, neither could Loren enlighten her after the event, but Anthony had decided to concentrate on celebrating Gloria's short life rather than dwell on the tragedy of her death, and even through his own pain and grief he managed to find some comforting words for Gloria's parents... her mother managed to keep back her tears for about thirty minutes or so Jen guessed but then broke down,sobbing quietly, while her husband, a tall grey-haired African American, held her close while his own silent tears ran down his face.

At the end of the service, while the pall-bearers shouldered the casket and took it out to the waiting hearse, Anthony made a point of approaching Loren and Jen, "You're welcome to the interment," he told them, "It's at Pleasant Grove Cemetery, that's just about a mile up the road, and I'll make sure there's a chair for you, Mrs Rabb," he smiled gravely at Jen.

Loren replied, "We'll be happy to attend, Mister Heywood," while Jen nodded both in agreement and in thanks.

True to his word, Anthony Heywood spoke briefly to an older man seated in the second row of chairs, who with a confirmatory glance at Jen, smiled, stood and nodded courteously, and indicating his chair stood back with a seeming good grace to allow Jen to take his place, and with a murmured "Thank you," Jen sat.

The graveside service was brief, most of what needed to be said had been said in church, and it the only raised voice was that of the minister, who completed the litany, finishing with all joining in the Lord's Prayer, after which the minister stood back while Gloria's family filed past the casket one by one, each laying a white rose on it's surface as they passed.

Waiting until the family had filed away, Loren and Jen started to make their way to the parking lot, intent on returning to Annandale Road but were surprised to find Anthony Heywood waiting for them at the cemetery gates.

"I was hoping that you might have a few minutes... just to tell me what happened to Gloria, and if you can, why she died?" he asked.

Once again Jen and Loren exchanged a look and then Jen said, "Walk with us to my car, and then, yes, we can talk, but as we said, there isn't a lot we are at liberty to tell you..."

"Anything, anything at all that might help me to understand why," Anthony assured her, his eyes showing his thanks.

Jen nodded and the the three of them headed for the Sebring.

**lxxix-lxxix-lxxix-lxxix-lxxix**

The over the counter meds and the three bottles of water that Harm had bought for Mac went a good way to soothing her throat, but by the time he had negotiated the Richmond beltway her eyes were reddened and the sneezing had started. Each sneeze was followed by a groan and recourse to the large economy size box of man-size Kleenex that Harm had also provided, with the result that already the skin of Mac's nose was sore and redder than her eyes.

After one particularly violent sneeze, Harm, after checking the road ahead was clear, turned to look at Mac with a sympathetic smile, "Just hold on Mac, we're on the I-95 now, well over the State line, just another hour and half if all goes well."

Mac saw the smile and misinterpreted it, "You're enjoi'g dis, a'nt you?" she challenged him, and although she spoke with difficulty the hostility in her voice was plain.

"Why would I be enjoying it, Mac?" Harm objected, "I'm still not completely clear, myself. I reckon I've got another two, maybe three days of coughing before my chest clears up. And I remember just how crappy I felt that first night! No, Mac, I'm not enjoying 'this' at all!"

Mac shot him a suspicious, red-eyed look, but with no more than a muttered "H'mph!" she settled back in her seat and gritted her teeth, determined to stick it out and not complain again before they reached Falls Church. After all, she was a Marine dammit, not some wimpy squid!

Mac's eyes lit up at the sight of a roadside sign advising that Washington was now only ninety miles away, "Haw fast we goi'g?" she croaked.

"A steady seventy," Harm replied his eyes flicking from mirrors to straight ahead as he prepared to pass an eighteen-wheeler in front of them, then flicking on the tun signal and pulled out into the center lane.

Mac grunted in acknowledgement, and recognition that Harm hadn't been snowing her in his estimation of the length of the journey ahead. Sinking back once more in her seat, she closed her aching eyes for a moment...

Mac awoke shivering as Harm pulled the Lexus to a halt in front of a gas station, evidently off the I-95, "Where we?" she croaked.

"Had to pull off the road,Mac. I really don't like the look of you..." Harm replied as he undid his seat belt.

"Where you goi'g?" Mac tried to say,.

Harm stopped and looked back into the vehicle, "Nowhere, just stay put, I'll be with you in a second."

True top his word he was around the vehicle in a matter of seconds, having open and closed the rear hatch on his way, and with a plaid picnic blanket draped over his forearm. Opening the passenger door, he offered her the blanket. "Here, you're sweating and shivering, looks like you're running a temperature, so wrap this around you... here, I'll help..."

"I'm a Mari'e... don' nee' bla'ket," Mac protested weakly.

"Stop your griping, and do as I say!" Harm insisted.

Mac glared at him, but nevertheless submitted to Harm draping the blanket over her and tucking it between her and the seat back, and was then forced to admit privately that she did more comfortable.

Harm walked back around the Lexus an d climbed up behind the wheel, grinned encouragingly, "You're doing fine, Mac, I'll get you home as quick as..."

**lxxix-lxxix-lxxix-lxxix-lxxix**

'As quick as', worked fine for Mac but by the time Harm had escorted her to her apartment, and ferried her bags up the stairs, his journey back to Annandale Road meant that he was snarled up in the early Friday evening Georgetown traffic, a situation made worse by his not being aware that the Key Bridge was closed for construction work and he was forced to retrace his path and thread his way through the busy streets to the Theodore Roosevelt Bridge, which although taking him off the direct route from Mac's apartment on Reservoir Road at least had the merit of putting him straight on to the Custiss Memorial Highway for Falls Church.

Even so, he was nearly an hour later than he had planned on reaching home, but at least this time, remembering prior occasions when he had not bothered, or forgotten to do so, he had called Jen to let her know that he was running late. When he pulled into the driveway on Annandale Road, next to Jen's Sebring, he checked to his left and smiled happily when he saw Loren's Escort sitting on its own length of gravel, that both cars were present meant that nobody – more importantly Jen – was away from home. Climbing out of the Lexus he collected his sea-bag, and slung it over his shoulder, before walking along the footpath at the front of the house to the front door, where he let himself and dropped the his sea-bag on the floor, before strolling through to the kitchen where Jen had risen to her feet and faced the door while as he'd half anticipated Loren cradled a cup of tea in her hands while an abandoned cup in front of Jen's just vacated chair showed that she also had been indulging in a hot drink, while Sasha regarded them solemnly from the security of her porta-crib.

"Hey there boo'ful," he drawled with a lazy smile, his eyes fixed firmly on Jen.

"Oh... Harm!" was all that Jen managed before she launched herself at him, and completely forgetting Loren's presence, she threw arms around Harm's neck to bring his face down to hers before she locked her lips to his in a long, passionate but sweet and gentle kiss. Harm nothing loath, rested his hands lightly on her hips and returned the kiss with equal enthusiasm, and it was only the scraping of Loren's chair on the kitchen floor that brought them back to the here and now.

Slightly breathlessly, but completely unabashed, Jen grinned at Loren, "Uh... sorry about that... well... no actually, I'm not, but I kinda missed him..."

"Don't you worry none about me!" Loren chuckled, "But as Sasha is a mite too young to witness those sorts of displays, we're going to head on back to the ranch-house!"

"But you are coming back for dinner, right?" Jen asked.

Loren smiled and shook her head, "Not this evening, Jen, I'm in carnivore mode today, and there's a lamb casserole I can re-heat in the microwave, but I'll see you tomorrow sometime, okay?"

"But..." Jen began, only to be silenced by a gentle finger on her lips as at the same time a large hand cupped her one of her butt cheeks.

"Until tomorrow..." Loren grinned, "And you two behave yourselves!" she quipped as she paused before closing the kitchen door behind her.

"We are behaving ourselves!" Harm protested as the door swung shut.

Jen twisted back to face him, "I hardly think holding my butt is behaving!" she scolded with laughing eyes.

"Oh yes it is!" Harm defended himself, "Just behaving badly!" he grinned, as he brought his other hand around to cup Jen's other cheek and gave them both a gentle squeeze.

Jen melted into his embrace, tilting her face to his to receive another kiss, only to break it off after thirty or so seconds, so that Harm looking down in mild surprise and then grinned when he saw the smoky quality to her gaze and the throatiness to her voice as she said, "I really missed you, you know?"

"Uh-huh, and I missed you too!" Harm averred.

"Prove it!" Jen challenged him.

"I intend to!" Harm said, releasing her butt, but then taking hold of both her hands he backed towards the stairs, towing a willing Jen behind him.

**lxxix-lxxix-lxxix-lxxix-lxxix**

Beth Hawkes propped herself up on an elbow and picked up her buzzing cell phone, "_H'lo_,"

"Beth?" Jack's voice held an edge of excitement that caught Beth's interest.

"_Yeah_?"

"I managed a switch with Chuck Forrester..." now the triumph in his voice was unmistakable, "so did you have anything particular in mind for the weekend?" he added diffidently.

"_Well... There were one or two things I wanted to get done..._" Beth said, as an unholy grin spread over her face'

"Oh..." even through the phone, Jack's disappointment was almost palpable.

Beth's grin threatened to get wider as she carried on as if Jack hadn't spoken, "_But you could always make me an offer and if that's more attractive.._." she let her voice trail off suggestively.

"Um... well... how about you, me, log cabin, open fire, bottle of burgundy, a couple of rib-eye steaks, jacket potatoes, coleslaw and topped of with blueberry ice-cream?" Jack offered hopefully

Beth stayed silent for so long that Jack was beginning to think the connection had been broken.

"Beth?"

"_Hush up, I'm thinking about it_!" with a superhuman effort Beth managed not to giggle, but the game was already up, Jack had heard the laughter in her voice.

"Beth Hawkes!" he thundered, "Does you does or does you don't wanna come up to Tilgham Island with me?"

"_Oh... well... if you're going to be like that about... yes. Okay, I'll come..._" It was no good, Beth let out a distinct giggle.

"Beth!" Jack wailed plaintively, and then recovered a modicum of equilibrium, "Okay, can you be ready to go in twenty minutes?"

"_Sure, I'll just grab a couple of things and shove them in my sea-bag. See you at the main entrance in twenty,_" Beth agreed, bounding off her bed and heading for her closet.

Twenty minutes later she closed the main door to the Female BOQ behind her just as Jack, in his Pontiac Firebird, pulled up outside. With a resigned grin on her face, Beth half ran down the steps, arriving at the car just in time for Jack to intercept her and relieve her of her sea-bag and stow it in the trunk of the car. Beth settled herself into the passenger seat while Jack hurried from the rear of the vehicle to the driver's door, but just as he was about to slide behind the wheel his cell phone chirped.

With a muttered curse Jack fished it out of his pocket and scowled as he saw the caller ID, "Gotta take this, dammit," he muttered as he pressed the 'answer call' button, "Keeter!"

"_Jack, sorry to call you out of duty hours,_" the voice belonged to Commander Dave Owens, the Naval Facility's XO, "_but Captain Jackson wants to see you ASAP_!"

"It'll take about fifteen minutes, Owens, "I'm not in uniform..."

"_Don't worry about uniform of the day, just get your six up to HQ_!"

Jack scowled as he got behind the wheel and leaned forward to turn the key in the ignition, "I swear to God, if I have to cancel, this weekend after all I did to swap it out, I'll..."

Whatever Jack might or might not have done would never be known as Beth's cell phone started its own insistent clamour.

"Hawkes!"

"_Commander, this is Commander Owens. You are to report to HQ to Captain Jackson, ASAP_!"

"But..."

"_Beth,_" Owens' voice lost its official tone, "_I'm guessing that you're with Jack, but the boss-lady wants to see you both, and about five minutes ago! Come as you are..._"

"Okay," Beth said sombrely. She shut the 'phone and turned to Jack her expression troubled, "That was Dave Owens..." she began.

"To tell you to report to Captain Jackson, soonest?" Jack asked.

Beth nodded her head, "This can't be good..." she said worriedly.

"No, dammit!" Jack agreed, as he pounded his fist on the steering wheel.

Ten minutes later, they were ushered into Captain Sylvia Jackson's office by her Yeoman. Sylvia Jackson was in her mid to late forties, with greying auburn hair worn in a smart crop,. Unusually for an officer posted to the command of a Naval Aviation facility, she had had no prior experience with the aviation community and wore her SWO pin proudly, claiming good humouredly that it made her stand out amongst all the wings on everybody else's blouses and jackets. Normally there was a hint of a smile on her dark eyes, but today she looked deadly serious.

"Commander Keeter and Lieutenant Commander Hawkes, reporting as ordered, ma'am!" Jack, as the senior of the two, reported formally.

"Come on in, the pair of you, and take a seat," she said with a hint of weariness in her voice.

Jack and Beth with a brief and slightly nervous glance at each did as they were bid and then with an assumed air if bright expectancy and attentiveness waited for the CO to broach the subject that had caused her to summon them at short notice.

"Commanders, I don't like doing this, but I am going to have to ask you some personal questions. But before I do, let me explain the situation. I have here an order from the IG's office to inquire into your personal lives. Somebody called the sexual misconduct hot-line and accused you both of conduct to the prejudice of good order and discipline in that you are engaging in a romantic relationship. Is that correct?"

Jack looked at Beth before he answered, "Yes, ma'am... sort of..."

"Sort of, Commander? Either you are or you aren't!"

"Ma'am, we spend a lot of our off-duty time together, we go out for dinner, or to the movies, or for a drink, no different to other officers, male and female, who work together."

"But if it is a romantic relationship, then it is different Commander!" Captain Jackson reminded him.

"How is it different, ma'am? We go out of an evening, we return to base, we say goodnight and we each retire to our respective quarters."

"It is different, Commander, because it is an improper relationship. You are Commander Hawkes immediate superior officer, and whether or not there is any favouritism shown, or any liberty taking, is immaterial."

Beth took a deep breath and then greatly daring said, "Ma'am it is a known fact that your husband," she nodded to a silver-framed photograph on Captain Jackson's desk, "Is also a serving Naval Officer, in fact he's the Captain of a ship, isn't he?"

Jackson was momentarily nonplussed, "Yes, he's the Captain of the _Leyte Gulf."_

"And I'll bet you're proud of him, aren't you, ma'am?" Beth persisted.

"Yes, yes, of course I am, but what...?"

"Ma'am, where did you meet your husband?" Beth asked while Jack stared at her in horror and tried, telepathically, to tell her to shut up.

"Ah, I see where you're going with this!" Jackson said, "Yes, I met him while we were in the same billet, and before you ask, yes, he did outrank me by one step."

"And did anyone know you were dating? You did date, didn't you?" Beth asked. Jack had given up at this stage and sat silently, eyes shut, waiting for the axe.

"No, no-one knew..." Sylvia said quietly as her eyes softened in memory.

"With respect ma'am, Commander Keeter and I have been dating since the end of March, and no-one in our chain of command, up or down, seems to have suspected anything..."

"Except whoever made that call to the hot-line!" Sylvia interjected.

"True... but wouldn't you agree with that being the case that Commander Keeter and I have gone to great lengths to separate our private and professional lives? To ensure that our relationship has not had a negative impact on the unit's morale or smooth running?"

"All that's true... but it doesn't get round the fact that the relationship can be described as being improper... and as I am now aware of it, I have to take steps... Commanders, just how serious are the two of you about this?"

"Ma'am, we're not hormonally challenged teenagers, we are serious, and on my part, when the time is right... well, let's say that it's serious enough for me to have met Commander Hawkes' family.. and believe me, ma'am, her mom is scary!" Jack tried to lighten the mood, and judging by the hastily stifled quirk at the corners of Sylvia's mouth he succeeded, well. At least partially.

"I see... now, unfortunately I have got to ask the question that I really don't want to ask... is your relationship a sexual one?" It was apparent that Sylvia Jackson was deeply uncomfortable with the question, and it was equally apparent to both Beth and Jack that she was reading from a script.

"No, ma'am!" Beth and Jack chorused explosively.

Sylvia Jackson drew her hands down her face and sighed, "By rights I should be cutting the pair of you orders, one of you to Reykjavik and the other to Diego Garcia! But I'm not going to. I am going to write back to the IG's office and say that I have inquired into this putative relationship and have decided that the report is based on a misinterpretation of normal social meetings between two officers who work together. But," she held up a minatory finger as Beth and Jack started to smile with relief, "you can no longer work on the same team. Commander Hawkes, with effect from Monday zero eight hundred hours you will exchange billets with Lieutenant Commander Peters on the Charlie Team. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," a slightly crestfallen Beth replied. Damn it, she liked working with Jack. They were a damned good team in both their professional and private lives.

"I do wish you well, the two of you," Sylvia Jackson said, "But in the meantime, please don't go making a liar out of me and get yourselves, pregnant. Now go on, I understand you're both stood down for the weekend, so what are you still doing here! Get!"

Beth and Jack sprung to their feet, "Aye, aye, ma'am!" they snapped in unison and turning smartly made for the office door.

"Well, what now?" Jack asked glumly once they were back at the Firebird.

"I for one am going to Tilgham Island for the weekend, and I'm taking you with me!" Beth said defiantly, "And once we get there, I may just fuck you senseless and get myself knocked up!" she added savagely.

Jack knew his Beth well enough to know that she was just venting, "Yeah, right," he drawled, "But Tilgham Island, yeah?"

"Damn straight!" Beth replied as she slid into the passenger seat.


	80. Happy Days?

**80**

**Happy Days?**

"Where you goi'g?" Harm mumbled, feeling the bed shift as Jen swung her legs over the side and heaved herself to her feet.

"Hungry," she grinned, "Somebody's return home kinda threw the domestic schedule out of kilter!"

Harm grinned in return and rolled over to look at her just in time to see her buttoning herself into one of his casual shirts, the sleeves of which she'd had to roll up almost to her elbows and the tails of which hung down almost to her knees. "You look about twelve years old in that!" he smiled.

Jen gave a gurgle of laughter, "A very pregnant twelve-year-old! But even I wasn't that much of a wild child!"

"H'mm... considering what we've just been doing..." Harm grinned suggestively.

"Don't even think of going there!" Jen protested, and then, with one knee on the bed, leaned in and dropped a gentle kiss on his lips. "Now," she said straightening up, "Are you going to get up and join me downstairs, or are you expecting room service?"

For a split second Harm was tempted to go for the room service option, but there was a warning light to be read in Jen's dark eyes, "No... I'll come downstairs with you, so we can eat dinner like Christian folk... What time is it anyway?" he queried, scrabbling for his watch and his boxers at the same time.

"Just short of ten-twenty," Jen replied.

"So... just a snack then?" Harm guessed.

Jen smiled and shook her head, "Nuh-huh, I really am starving. I figured you could prep some garlic bread and a side of salad while I put the lasagne into the oven..."

Harm shook his head, although he knew his protests weren't likely to carry any weight, "We really shouldn't be eating a full meal this time of night."

"Well then, you shouldn't have seduced me at dinner time!" Jen riposted.

"Yeah? Well, I don't exactly recall you making any objections at the time!" Harm replied with a sly grin.

"Oh... I wasn't all that hungry then!" Jen grinned unrepentantly as she shuffled her feet into her Garfield slippers.

**lxxx-lxxx-lxxx-lxxx-lxxx**

Beth kept her anger simmering for most of the way to Tilghman Island and Jack wisely let her alone to enjoy her fury, but by the time the Firebird had reached Chesapeake Bay Bridge, she had begun to cool down although anyone looking at her wouldn't have been able to tell that by the determined jut of her lower lip, her set expression, and her pugnaciously thrust forward lower jaw.

Once across the bridge she stayed silent, but even out of the corner of his eye Jack could see the tension draining out of her. By the time they'd reached Jack's cabin she was able to respond, albeit in monosyllables to Jack's attempts to start a conversation, the routine of settling in, and lighting the totally unnecessary fire seemed to relax Beth even more, although she remained subdued throughout the promised prime rib steak and baked potato. Even the full-bodied red wine did little to lift her spirits, and it wasn't until Jack brought coffee to the lounge area, sat on the couch and patted the cushion next to him that she rose from the table and joined him.

Jack had his arm stretched across the back of the couch, and as Beth sat down next to him he slid it down to loop around her shoulder and give the preoccupied brunette a hug. Beth sighed and allowed her head to rest in the hollow of Jack's shoulder.

He turned his head and dropped a gentle kiss on her sweet-smelling hair, "I know you're not still mad over what Captain Jackson said, so what's causing that frown, sweetheart?"

Beth gave him a quick glance before she lowered her eyes again, "No, I'm not still mad at the skipper, I might be a bit mad at myself, but even so, I'm more ashamed of myself than mad at me."

It was Jack's turn to furrowed his brow in a frown, "I know that somewhere along the line you are being perfectly logical, and perfectly comprehensible, but… Would you mind just going through that in words of one syllable, so that even I can understand?"

Beth mumbled something indistinct.

"Again, with clarity?" Jack insisted.

Beth did look up at him this time, was a sulky expression and exasperation plain to hear in her voice, she said, "When we got out of the skipper's office I said a couple of things that I really didn't mean…" her voice tailed off uncertainly.

Jack's mental light-bulb started to glow, "Uh... You mean about coming up here, and getting knocked up?"

Beth nodded and buried her face in his chest.

"And now you're afraid that I'm expecting you to walk the walk as well as talk the talk?"

Her face still hidden, Beth nodded again.

"Oh, sweetheart," Jack chuckled, "I know, and I knew the second you said it, that you were only ranting... Were you afraid that I might think you meant it, and then expect…?"

Beth raised her face from Jack's chest, "Yeah," she said shyly, "Jack I do love you, but I've never taken the physical side of a relationship lightly, and right now I'm just not ready to take that step…"

Jack dropped another kiss on her forehead, "I won't pretend that I don't want you in that way, but I love you too much to put any pressure on you. And I'm not altogether certain I'm ready to take that step either. I do know though, that when the time is right, we will both know. And until then, I'm quite happy to wait."

Beth looked up at him again, a new light in her eyes, "Do you really mean that, Jack?"

"Sure as hell do," he affirmed with a grin.

Beth smiled up at him before she allowed her head to fall back into the hollow of his shoulder, the last of her inner tension oozing out of her.

Jack waited until her eyes had closed, then looked down at her, 'Beth, sweetheart, you're killing me!' he said silently to himself.

**lxxx-lxxx-lxxx-lxxx-lxxx**

"So, are you going to tell me what particular bug you've got up your ass this morning, or are you going to leave it to me to try to guess?" Jen demanded in a jaunty voice and with barely suppressed grin of amusement on her face.

Harm, who had both elbows braced on the table and both hands holding his coffee mug, glowered across the three feet of scrubbed hardwood that separated the couple, "Must you be so goddamn cheerful, so early in the goddamn morning?" he complained.

Jen bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing out loud, "Point the first, I am not being extraordinarily cheerful. It's Saturday morning, we have the whole weekend ahead of us, and just for once you're not out-of-town on an investigation, so I think I have adequate cause to be happier than I am Monday through Friday. Point the second, it is nearly zero nine hundred hours, and it's only that you overslept by nearly two hours, that makes you think that it early morning." It was no good, Jen was unable to hold back the grin any longer, "And that, Your Honour, is the case for the prosecution."

Harm snorted, "And if I did oversleep, whose fault was that?"

"Ah... That would be entirely your fault. Don't even think about blaming it on me!"

Harm put his coffee mug down on the table and attempted to draw the shreds of his tattered dignity around him, "The reason I overslept this morning, it's because I couldn't sleep last night. The reason I couldn't sleep last night, is that we ate the wrong food far too late. The reason we ate the wrong food that late, is because somebody vetoed my idea of a snack, and insisted on a full blown dinner of lasagne, garlic bread and salad!"

"Well… You didn't have to eat it," Jen said slightly defensively.

"Um... Once you'd put it in the oven, then, yeah, I did, I've already experienced your disappointment and bad temper when I don't eat something you've cooked..." Harm disagreed, feeling a lift, albeit a slight one, as he realised that he had just wrong footed Jen."

And although Jen was enjoying immensely the opportunity to tease her husband, she was forced to acknowledge, if only mentally, that he did have a certain amount of justice on his side. Not that she was prepared to surrender just yet.

"Three arguments to counter that, counsellor," she grinned again." Point the third, I am not bad tempered, ever. Point the fourth,I know you were awake a good portion of the night, because your twisting and turning in bed kept me awake too. Point the fifth, since your daughter seems determined on a career as either a soccer player, or a kicker for an NFL team, it is a very rare night that I sleep all the way through, but I still managed to get out of bed in the morning," Jen replied, her voice replete with smug virtue.

"Oh, the pregnancy card; that's really dirty pool, you know?" Harm retorted.

To his surprise Jen suddenly giggled.

"What?" He demanded.

Instead of answering immediately, Jen pushed back her chair, stood, walked around the table and squeezing between it and Harm squirmed onto his lap with her hands linked at the back of his neck. Harm's strong right hand went immediately to the small of her back, helping to support her, while his left hand rested firmly on her right thigh to prevent her sliding off his knee as she sat sideways on to him.

Jen dipped her head, and planted a soft kiss on his lips, "I laughed, because when you accuse me of playing dirty pool, you were smiling, so all your pretend grumpiness counted for nothing!"

"I was smiling?" Harm frowned as he tried to remember how he had felt when he complained, "Yeah, I guess I was."

"And you're smiling now," Jen commented with a smile of her own. She dropped another gentle kiss on his mouth and leaned back against the support of his arm, "So… My work here is done!"

Harm shook his head he wasn't quite sure what had happened, but despite what had started out as an argument, he felt much, much better than he had twenty minutes ago. As his thoughts raced through his brain he managed to put a rope on one of them, "Jennifer Rabb, you are, with out a doubt, a very devious young woman!"

Jen used her purchase on Harm's shoulders to lever herself to her feet. "After all these months of marriage, you only just realised that?" she twinkled.

Harm grinned broadly, "Actually, I've had my suspicions for a while."

"So... You're not totally beyond redemption," Jen teased as she made a start on clearing the breakfast wreckage from the table.

"Probably not," Harm conceded, "Leastways, I hope not!"

Jen grinned over her shoulder, "I knew there was a reason I married you!" And then turned her attention back to the sink. As soon as she did so she realised she had made a tactical error, Harm's strong hands on her shoulders twisted around to face him and before she could do or even say anything, he's captured her face in one strong hand and captured her lips in his, deepening the kiss as she moaned gently into his mouth, while his hand cupped her breast, feeling her nipple become erect even through the denim of her shirt and the satin and lace of her bra.

Neither heard the light tap on the door, or its subsequent opening, but they bolted apart, both crimsoning as a voice half amused and half exasperated broke onto their ears, "For heaven's sake! If it wasn't that you're wearing different clothes, I'd swear to God that pair of you haven't moved since last night!"

Harm hastily sat down so that his suddenly and visibly too-tight jeans wouldn't betray his arousal, while Jen, although still blushing red managed a creditable, "Good morning, Loren."

Harm's "Good morning," wasn't quite as cheery.

Loren grinned indulgently and shook her head, "You two... I hate to break it to you, but the honeymoon is supposed to be over."

Harm reacted by reaching and taking hold of Jen's hand, and tugged her back towards him, pulling down gently in the hope that she'd take the hint. Jen rewarded him with a dazzling smile and sat on his lap again, deliberately wriggling her butt against his arousal.

Harm tried to look stern as he looked Loren squarely in the eye, "I'm the man of the house, I'll say when the honeymoon ends!"

"If I let him!" Jen chirped, and then took a closer look at Loren who seemed to be almost bursting with impatience, "But you didn't call round just to bug us did you?" she grinned.

"No... and I hate to be rushed, but I need to place a shore to ship call in the next ten minutes..." she dipped a hand into the hip pocket of her jeans and pulled out a folded piece of paper, "I've gotten another letter from David, he has a week's leave coming up, starting on Wednesday, and I was wondering if maybe you could look after Sasha for an evening or two while he's stateside?"

Jen shot a wicked glance at Harm before turning a wide-eyed and innocent expression on Loren, "Who's this David, and how come we haven't heard about him before?"

Loren looked blank, "David... David Medwick... You know, Tuna... Harm's old squadron buddy..." she tailed off not understanding how Jen couldn't know to whom she referred.

"Oh... Tuna!" Jen exclaimed with a wholly spurious air of recognition, "I remember him, wasn't he the guy whose head you bit off when we got stranded in that church overnight? You know, the one you said was interfering and intruding where he wasn't wanted?" Jen would have said more but she already was finding it hard enough to keep her giggles in check already.

Loren finally twigged on that Jen was teasing her, "Oooh! I am so gonna get you for that!" she threatened even as she laughed, "But seriously, could you look after Sasha for a couple of evenings, David is threatening to take me to Romano's..."

"Of course we'll look after her!" Harm interrupted while Jen nodded her enthusiastic agreement.

"Even after the last time?" Loren asked slyly.

Jen and Harm exchanged a rueful grin, "Yeah, even after the last time!" Harm replied.

"Besides, we learned a lot, the last time around!" Jen added bravely.

"So... when I come to collect Sasha in the morning, I won't find you crashed out, exhausted on the couch?" Loren asked innocently.

"God, I hope not!" Harm said fervently.

Jen threw a look of acute dislike at Loren, "Okay, you've had your revenge!" she complained.

"Had my revenge?" Loren queried with a delicately arched eyebrow, "Sweetheart, I haven't even begun yet!"

Harm chuckled and slightly tightened his grip on Jen's hip, "G'wan, git, before we change our minds!"

"H'mm... now that's a threat that does carry some weight!" Loren chuckled as she levered herself away from the work top against which she'd been resting, "But before I go... Jen, I'm headed to the store this afternoon... is there anything that I can get you?"

Jen thought for a moment and then shook her head, "No... I need lots of stuff, but too much to ask you to get it for me... would it be okay if I went along?"

"Oh... I was going to ask you to watch Sasha for an hour or so..." Loren said.

"That's okay, leave her with me; I haven't had enough time with my favourite niece lately!" Harm said, an anticipatory smile lighting up his face.

"What about your cold?" Loren queried, "I really don't want you passing it on to Sasha!"

"I'm well past the infectious stage now," Harm grinned, "Once I'd given my germs to Mac, they seemed satisfied to abandon me entirely!"

"You gave Mac your cold?" Jen queried, "And you're laughing about it! That's cruel!"

"After the grief she gave me on the way down, and at Lejeune, as far as I'm concerned, she got off lightly!" Harm defended himself. "Besides, I took good care of her, and took her straight home yesterday evening and made sure she got straight into bed with a hot water bottle and a mug of chocolate as well as a barrage of over the counter meds – you know what she's like about taking anything stronger!"

Loren grinned at Jen, "Methinks he doth protest too much!" she quipped

"I thought I told you to 'git'?" Harm growled before Jen could reply.

"To hear is to obey, O Master!" Loren giggled, and with a mock salaam, she backed out of the door and headed off across the backyard, her laughter trailing after her like a carillon of silver bells.

Jen smiled after her friend and then inclined her head so that it rested against Harm's, "Lieutenant Witch sure has changed, hasn't she?" she said fondly.

"M'mm," Harm agreed, "and all it took was Sasha's arrival and a handful of people to treat her halfway decently."

"Of which you were the ring-leader!" Jen accused him, "ably aided and abetted by Grams!"

"I'm pretty sure that mom and Frank had a hand in it somewheres along the line," Harm demurred, "And if I'm not pretty much mistaken, you might have had a finger or two in that particular pie!"

"Well... maybe..." Jen smiled.

"H'mm... are you ever going to tell me what you two talked up a storm about, the evening you spent on mom and Frank's deck?"

Jen leaned away a little, confident that Harm wouldn't let her fall, and looked him in the yes, "No... I don't think I will. It's Loren's story, and if she ever wants you to know, then I'm pretty sure she'll tell you herself. I'm also pretty sure that she wouldn't want me to betray a confidence!"

Harm pulled a face, "I can't say as how I like the idea of you keeping secrets from me, but seeing as this isn't your secret, I guess I'll just have to learn to live with it." he said.

"Yeah, yeah, you will!" Jen told him firmly.

**lxxx-lxxx-lxxx-lxxx-lxxx**

"Now, remember, if she starts crying it will be for one of two reasons. She'll either be hungry or dirty and/or wet. Check that she doesn't need changing before you offer her a feed. Everything you need to change her is in the diaper bag. I've put two of her bottles, full of milk, in the fridge. She will only take one bottle per feed, and I doubt she'll need more than the one feed before we get back. Put the bottle in your microwave, on sixty per cent for forty seconds, but check it's not too hot for her by letting a couple of drops onto the back of your hand. If it feels hot on your hand, it's too hot for her!"

Harm, with Sasha safely held in the crook of one arm, smiled down at Loren as she repeated her instructions for the third time in less than twenty minutes, "Yes, ma'am," he replied in his best little boy voice.

Loren glared up at him, "Don't!" she warned him.

"Don't what?" Harm asked innocently.

Loren looked as if she wanted to stamp of foot in vexation and snapped, "Just don't do anything!"

"It might be best if you didn't say anything either," Jen chuckled from the doorway, where she had been patiently waiting for Loren to finish reiterating her instructions.

Loren shot a final hard look at Harm before turning and smiling at Jen, "I'm coming I'm coming!"

Harm watched them through the window as the two women climbed into Jen's Sebring, "mommy was being a little bit silly there, sweetheart," Harm confided to the infant, "fancy thinking that Uncle Harm didn't know how to look after little Sasha. Little Miss Alexandra Maria Rabb..."

Sasha stared up at him with wide-open blue eyes and after a few moments emitted a gurgle at which Harm smiled, "I'll take that as agreement, then, shall I?" and broke into a quiet chuckle as Sasha gurgled again and reached up to touch his face.

**lxxx-lxxx-lxxx-lxxx-lxxx**

"Is it alright if I lift _this_?" Jen demanded in a somewhat surly voice as she glared across the café table at Loren while indicating her cup of herbal tea and egg salad sandwich which sat on her tray.

Loren heaved a long-suffering sigh, "Jen, there is no way on God's earth, that I was going to let you try to struggle with damn great grocery sacks, filled up with half the contents of the store!"

"I. Am. Not. Sick. I. Am. Not. An invalid. I. Am. Not. Made. Of. Glass. I. Am. Only. Pregnant. Got it?" Jen gritted out between clenched teeth.

Loren shook her head, "I know all that, Jen. And I'm sorry it bugs you, but I'd far sooner have you moan at me for taking extra care of you than I would have Harm ranting at me for not looking after you."

Jen humphed, "Huh, Harm, and you, are taking this whole looking after Jen thing way further than you need. For God's sake women have been having babies for hundreds of thousands of years, and they used to be working in the fields right up until the moment they gave birth! I hardly think that carrying a couple grocery sacks across the parking lot comes anywhere near that!"

"Well, all that's true enough," Loren agreed placidly, taking a sip of her tea, before replacing her mug on the table and adding, "But you, Jennifer Rabb, are not some European peasant woman. You are my friend and the pregnant – not sick - wife of the man who considers himself to be my step-brother, and whom I not only also consider to be a step-brother, but also about the best male friend I have ever had! And it would kill him if anything happened to you or your baby, so despite your complaints, I'm going to carry on bullying you for your sake and Harm's!"

Jen deflated, "Oh that really is dirty pool! Playing the Harm card like that! But you're right, it would kill Harm..."

"So... all is sweetness and light between us again?" Loren asked with a mischievous grin.

"I suppose so..." Jen sighed and then shot the blonde a darkling look at total variance with her words. Her frown deepening as Loren let out a crow of triumphant laughter, until her own sense of humour kicked in and answering grin, even if it was a somewhat reluctant specimen, spread across her face.

With harmony restored the two women concentrated on their tea and sandwiches, making light non-contentious conversation until Loren noticed a waitress giving them a distinctly unimpressed stare. Loren looked at her watch noting to her surprise that she and Jen had been at the table for over forty minutes. "We'd best make a move..." she said, but not showing the slightest indication that she was about to quit her seat.

"Yeah, s'pose so..." Jen agreed, but again not making a move. In her case however, she felt she had a legitimate reason: her feet were killing her! But move they eventually did, and although Jen would never admit it, she was heartily thankful that Loren had grabbed her grocery sacks and loaded them into the trunk of the Sebring before they'd stopped for tea and sandwiches.

The stop for refreshments and their procrastination meant that they were a good hour later in returning home than they had expected and it was well into the afternoon before Jen eased the Sebring to a halt next to the Lexus. Pulling on the parking brake and knocking the gear lever into 'P', Jen slid out from behind the wheel and thumbed the button to open the trunk, only to have a hand grip her forearm and a pair of ice-blue eyes turned upon her.

"Nuh-huh!" Loren said determinedly, with a shake of her head. "We are not going to have this argument again! You just go on right ahead and open the door, while I unload all the groceries!"

Jen fulminated silently for a moment and then her shoulders sagged, "Alright," she conceded, "You can make a start, but I'll send Harm out to help!"

Loren grinned, "Works for me!" she agreed enthusiastically.

Jen went on ahead with a dignified waddle to open the front door and to summon Harm to help, while Loren grabbed the first two grocery sacks and with one in each arm and a slight smile on her face followed after. She hadn't reached the door when Jen hurried back out through it, a huge grin n her face and her eyes dancing with mischief, "Loren! You have just got to see this – but come quietly!"

Her curiosity piqued Loren put the two grocery sacks down on the hall table and crossed to where Jen was standing at the living room doorway.

"Would you look at that!" she whispered.

Loren did as she was bid and her grin almost matched Jen's as she saw the six feet four inch and two hundred and forty pounds of Harmon Rabb stretched out on the floor, flat on his back with a throw pillow from the couch under his head, fast asleep. And also fast asleep, Sasha Rabb lay face down on his chest, one of Harm's hands, huge in comparison to the size of the baby, on her back and holding her gently in position.

Loren backed away from the doorway, tugging on Jen's arm for the brunette to follow her and in response to a raised eyebrow, she whispered, "Have you got a camera and film to hand?"

"Better! Got a digital camera!" Jen affirmed her own grin broadening even further as her mind raced ahead.

Loren's smile became almost devilish, "Oh, wow! Break room fridge!"

"Damn straight!" Jen agreed, "Wait here!" and turning, she kicked off her shoes and silently crept down the hallway to the home office that she and Harm shared, to return in under a minute with the camera in hand.

Both women returned to the doorway, and quickly adjusting the camera's settings between each shot, Jen fired off four frames. Although the camera was virtually silent, the low level of ambient light caused the built-in flash to fire and the bursts of bright light were sufficient to wake Sasha, who blinked owlishly and then, in no uncertain terms, registered her disapproval of being roused from her nap in such a frivolous and uncaring manner, especially before she prepared to face the rest of the evening!

Sasha's cries bought an almost instant reaction from Harm, "Hush, little one, hush.. it's alright, it's alright..."he crooned as very gently he used his finger tips to rub circles on his niece's back, and then blinking his eyes open he became aware of the two silently giggling women in the doorway.

He offered them a sheepish grin, ad picking up Sasha in both hands, he used his elbows to push himself up into a sitting position. "She was tired after her feed," he offered by way of explanation, "and then when she started yawning she set me off, and after last night…" He shot an accusatory glance at Jen, "I found that I couldn't stay awake either!"

"But why didn't you put her in her crib?" Loren asked.

"Uh... It seemed that… Well… It, uh... seemed somehow just... right that she slept in my arms," Harm admitted in some confusion.

"But, Harm, on the floor?" Jen queried, "and what do you think that's going to do to your back?"

"Well, I didn't want to lie down on the couch, just in case Sasha slipped off while we were asleep, and I figure that if we were already on the floor she couldn't fall very far…" his grin had more than a shade of guilt in it, almost as if he was a six-year-old caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Jen shook her head in resignation, "Give Sasha back to Loren, there are four or five sacks of groceries that need to be unloaded from the Sebring!"

Harm held Sasha up so that Loren could take her from him and hauled himself to his feet, "Four or five sacks of groceries? What about my back?" he asked in mock complaint.

Jen eyed him levelly, "Sebring, groceries, go!" she ordered, trying to restrain her giggles at his nonsense.

Harm sighed and then as he side-stepped past Jen looped out a long arm and scooped her in close, tilting her chin up with his free hand to plant a tender kiss on her lips.

"It's a good job I love you," he grinned as he broke the kiss.

"It's certainly convenient," Jen replied slightly breathlessly, "considering that I love you too!"

Harm mouthed "Later".

Jen looked up at him with eyes that had suddenly turned smoky, "Promises!" she pretended to scoff.

"Yeah and you know how I feel about promises…" Harm smiled over his shoulder as he reached the doorway.

Jen watched him go and then slowly turned back towards the couch where she gingerly lowered herself to sit next to Loren.

Loren looked up from where she had been pretending to be totally absorbed in her daughter and shook her head in mock sorrow, "I don't know which of you two is the more whipped!"

Jen just smiled, "No contest, like everything else we have, it's a fifty-fifty split!"

"H'mm... maybe... but I do know one thing, we were right the last time, he's going to make brilliant dad…" Loren's smile disappeared as if it'd been wiped off her face, and her eyes suddenly flooded with tears.

Jen looked at her in some alarm, "Why, Loren, what on earth is the matter?"

Loren sniffed and cleared her throat, "Oh, nothing really, I was just wishing that Sasha had her daddy."

Jen looked at the blonde in some surprise, "Don't tell me that after the way he ran out on you that you're missing Sergei?"

"No, not for me… I just wish he would be here for Sasha…"

Jen stretched out a hand and cupped Loren's face, gently stroking her cheekbone with a thumb, "You do know that Harm loves Sasha as if she was his own, and he will do his best to be a father to her as well as uncle?"

Loren looked slightly guilty, "Yes, I do know that, and I love him for it… But it's not quite the same, and what happens when your baby arrives?"

"Then Harm and I will be doubly blessed, with our own daughter and a niece that we both love as much as she was our own, and there's nothing going to change that!"

Loren managed a watery smile, "Yes, I do know that, but even so…"

Jen's somewhat sombre, sympathetic expression changed as a teasing smile formed on her face, "And anyway, you and she will have David and he has already said that he loves Sasha, unless I misheard you!"

Loren flushed bright crimson, "Jen! Whether or not David loves Sasha, is immaterial. Yes, I kinda like him, yes, the one date we went on I enjoyed, and yes again, I'm looking forward to our second date. But it is far, far too early to start thinking of him as any sort of permanent presence in our lives!"

Jen looked at the blonde under half closed eyelids, "Yeah, right!"

It was too much for Loren, and she exploded into laughter, "Jennifer Rabb! You are bad!"

"I try, I try," Jen agreed with every air of satisfaction, as Loren turned her attention to Sasha, who gave every indication of being upset by her mother's hilarity.


	81. No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

**81**

**No Good Deed Goes Unpunished**

"So… how was your afternoon with Sasha?" Jen asked Harm, a slight teasing note in her voice, as she propped her feet up on a throw pillow she had dropped onto the occasional table in front of the couch, adding and "Oooh…" of relief as she did so.

Harm quirked an eyebrow as he carried the tea-tray into the lounge, "Relaxing," he quipped, "How was your afternoon shopping with Loren?"

"Not so relaxing…" Jen confessed with a rueful grin.

"Well, I wasn't too sure about you trudging round the stores all afternoon! And you can't tell me that apart from the groceries, you didn't at least do some window shopping at the mall!" Harm accused her.

"Oh… yeah… yeah we did that… and a little more than window shipping," Jen admitted with a sly smile.

Harm pretended to wince, "Just how much of a battering did our cards take?" he wanted to know.

"Not that much… and anyway it is as much for you as it is me, I just hope you think it was worth it!"

This time Harm did wince, "How… how much?" he asked again.

"Oh… no, not worth it in that sense!" Jen said firmly, "I was thinking more of the way my feet ached when we finally stopped for a sandwich and a cup of tea!" she said, looking meaningfully at the tea-pot that was sat on the tray, and hoping to divert him from his line of inquiry.

Harm grinned as he poured the tea. "Nope, not working!" he declared, "But a nice try at deflection!"

"Oh… all right…" Jen pretended to surrender, "I'll show you later, but it really didn't cost all that much."

"How much later?" Harm asked.

"Later, later. When I've had my tea and I've rested up enough to summon up the energy!" Jen said with a glare that dared him to continue his line of questioning.

Harm saw the 'Prepare for Battle' signal run up to Jen's mast head, and sat back, "Oh, that's all right, I was just curious."

Jen's response was a "H'mph!" as she turned her attention to her tea and sipped cautiously at the hot liquid, but she felt Ham's eyes still on her and looking up after a couple of minutes she saw the sappy smile on his face as he watched her.

"Bastard," she said softly as she grinned at him.

"Not guilty, your honour," he smiled in return.

"H'mph!" Jen repeated.

**lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi**

Later, later, Harm was forced to admit that no matter how much Jen had spent it was well worth it. The mid-green, silk-satin, only just long enough to be decent night-dress was positively indecent, it was transparent, and only the applique V of lace that ran from the shoulders to the bottom of the garment prevented it from being downright pornographic, as from the rear in the absence of any lace it was so transparent as to be non-existent.

"Yep, "Harm murmured to a satiated and sound asleep Jen as his eyes wandered to the bedroom chair that now wore her brand new nightie. "Worth every penny!"

**lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi**

"Ready about… Lee ho!" Jack called out, grinning broadly as the fresh breeze ruffled his hair.

Beth ducked in anticipation as Jack put the helm over, the jib-sail flapping momentarily until the boat had settled on her new course and the sail filled again, while the mainsail boom swept over her head forcing Beth to brace her deck-shoe clad feet against the grating that covered the floor of the Catalina 27 as the boat swung upright and then over to starboard, so that her lee rails were nearly awash.

But Jack's sheer pleasure in sailing his boat was infectious, and as he broke into laughter from sheer _joi de vivre_, she followed suit, her eyes dancing as her face lit up. Jack looked across at her from his position at the tiller and thought, despite her wind tousled hair and reddened cheeks, that she had rarely looked so lovely. And so carried away with her presence and her enjoyment was Jack that he broke one of his most rigidly enforced rules.

"Want to try her?" he shouted over the wind and the rushing of the sea along the _QueenCat's_ waterline.

"Sure! What do I do?" Beth yelled in return.

"Come over here, by the tiller!" Jack called, making room for her as he did so.

Beth rose to a half-crouch, acutely aware of the mainsail boom overhead, and vividly imagining the results if her skull and the boom came into violent contact, and took the three steps necessary to squeeze in alongside jack on the stern most athwart-ships bench seat, where once she was sat, Jack wrapped one arm around her waist while he reached out with his other hand and placing Beth's hand on the tiller, he covered it with his own.

"Can you feel her?"

Beth could indeed feel her, or more accurately the pressure of the water on the rudder that was transmitted up though the rudder post and into the tiller, that seemed to thrum and vibrate like a live thing under her hand.

"Here, drop your elbow overt the tiller and keep it between your arm and your ribs! Jack encouraged her.

Beth laughed from pure pleasure as Jack's surrounding arm gently nudged her into position.

"Hah! You only wanted me to take the helm so you had an excuse to put your arm around me!" Beth laughingly accused him.

"And you object to that?" Jack teased her.

"Hell, no!" Beth exclaimed happily

**lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi**

Jen pushed her empty plate away from her and sighed happily, then she looked across the table at Harm, who feeling her eyes upon him looked up from the sports section of the Sunday papers and seeing the mischief in his wife's expression, he closed the paper, feeling that he really needed to pay attention to what was coming up before he found himself hip deep in more trouble than he wanted to handle on a Sunday morning.

"You… uh… want something, sweetheart?" he asked more or less casually.

"M'mm…" Jen said non-committally as she poured herself another cup of tea, "I was thinking…"

Harm silently groaned to himself, experience had taught him to be very wary of those words said in such a deliberately off-hand manner.

"Yes?" he prompted, trying for encouraging, but if the narrowing of Jen's eyes was any guide, failing miserably.

"I was thinking," Jen repeated, this time more incisively, "That if David has more than just one or two nights in DC, that we might ask him and Loren, oh… and Jack and Beth over to dinner, one evening…"

Harm pretended to consider the idea. He knew exactly where this was going, but he intended to go down fighting.

"I don't know… it's a lot of work…"

"It's not that much more work! I don't mean that we have to put on an award-winning meal, just something simple and home-cooked. You always said how much you appreciated fresh food when you came ashore after a deployment. Oh… we could ask Angela and Tom too!"

"Not a good idea at the moment, Jen," Harm shook his head. "The Lindsey court-martial is likely to kick off shortly, and for Angela to be having dinner with one of the attorneys from the prosecuting office while her name is on the witness list…"

Jen's shoulders slumped, "Oh… I hadn't thought of that, but yeah, I know, even the appearance of impropriety… so there'd only be the six of us, and you regularly cook for three, how much harder can it be? All you have to do is double the amounts of the ingredients." Jen smiled ingenuously and darted a measuring glance from under her eyelashes at Harm.

Harm grinned back at her, 'The classic bait and switch', he told himself, 'Nope it ain't going to work, not this time around…' He drew a deep breath, "Well when you put it like that… it doesn't sound so bad… but all that time I spent on the road recently just means that all the routine paperwork has piled up on my desk… and I really don't think I'm going to have the time…"

'Oh no, mister! I can see exactly where you're headed with this!' Jen thought, 'But there is no way I'm going to let you guilt me into doing all the work, especially when you're a much better cook than I am!'

"Well… I could help… a little bit," Jen suggested, "but I really can't be doing with being on my feet for extended periods of time… and then there's the backache too…" she let her words die away as a soulful expression settled on her face.

Harm took a breath to counter Jen's arguments, but she hadn't finished yet, "And when you consider that you're responsible for this…" she gently patted her bump, "and I don't ask for much…"

Harm groaned and buried his face in his hands. 'Damn it! She just guilted me before I could do it to her!' "All right," he sighed waving a white flag, "You talk to Loren and I'll speak to Jack and Beth, okay?"

Jen's answering grin was of happiness mixed with triumph, that together with the mischievous gleam in her eye was sufficient to convince Harm that he had been very cunningly played, as was her way-too-innocent, "Oh, thank you, sweetheart!"

Harm couldn't help but respond with a grin of his own but he wagged a reproving finger at her, "And don't think I don't know exactly what you just did!" he told her.

"Did? Did I do something? _Moi_?" Jen asked, and giggled.

"Damn straight you did! And you know it! But know this too Mrs Jennifer Rabb, I will get my revenge!"

Jen cocked her head to one side, "D'you know, anyone who didn't know you would think you were a real grouch!" but she hauled herself to her feet and walked around the table where she perched on Harm's knee, "So it's a good job that I do know you and…" she paused to drop a soft kiss on his lips, "it helps that I also happen to love you!"

Harm smiled up into her eyes, "Oh… and did I tell you recently that I love you too?"

Jen pretended to think for a moment, "Well you did shout it a couple of time last night…but you could always try saying it again?" she suggested.

This time it was Harm who initiated the kiss. "In that case, Mrs Rabb, it's probably a good thing that you do love me, because I love you too, more than anyone or anything I have ever loved in my life!"

**lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi**

"Commanders Saunders and Baxter… I am taking flak from the SecNav over the length of time it's taking to bring both Lindsey and his nephew to trial. Can either of you provide me with any valid reason why we shouldn't move ahead with this as of right now?" Admiral Chegwidden, from his seat at the head of the conference table, peered over the top of his reading glasses at each of the two officers in turn.

"None from me, sir," Babs Saunders replied easily. I'm ready to take Lindsey down as soon as it gets put on the docket."

"Commander Baxter?"

"Uh… I have a few problems, sir; it'll take me a day or two more to get them solved."

"What sort of problems, Commander?" the Admiral demanded.

"Uh… there are indications – allegations if you will – that a couple of Commander Saunders' witnesses have… shall we say… less than spotless records when it comes to moral turpitude."

"And?"

"And I need to find some corroborating evidence."

"And if you can't?"

"Then we come back to the old he-said-she-said scenario, sir."

The Admiral frowned, "And you have a problem with this why?"

"It leaves too much to chance, sir."

"And again, this is a bad thing how?"

"If we leave it all to chance, then why have courts at all, sir? Why not just flip a coin, heads he's guilty, tails he walk."

Chegwidden knew he couldn't press too much further with making Baxter give away an insight into his trial strategy, but he wasn't very happy with the way the visiting attorney seemed to be heading, however all he could on this occasion was to growl a warning, "Tone, Mister!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Baxter replied stiffly his cheek burning at the rebuke, mild as it was.

Chegwidden on the other hand now seemed to dismiss the entire conversation from his mind. "Now before I finish up, has anyone anything they wish to bring to my attention?" He paused for an answer and then when none were forthcoming he grunted "Good!" and rose to his feet to the usual accompanying clatter of chair legs on the hardwood floor.

Babs Saunders waited until Baxter had taken the stairs to his office on the next floor down before she addressed Harm, a slight frown creasing her forehead, "I get the impression that Baxter may be relying on discrediting my witnesses' evidence rather than bringing forward any exculpatory evidence on his client's behalf. You seem to have known for longer than anyone around here. Is that his normal MO?"

Harm frowned, "I knew him at the academy, yes; I've had no contact with him since. But at the Academy he was a bully, so I wouldn't mind hazarding a guess that he will try to attack your witnesses, especially the most vulnerable ones, and try to turn the blame on to the victims."

"H'mm… "Babs looked carefully at Harm, wondering what it was that the tall former aviator was trying not to say. "Thanks for heads up on his style, I think I might go and look up some transcripts of his previous cases…" and with a nod of her head she wandered down the hallway, calling out as she did so, "Oh… Lieutenant Sims… a word please…"

**lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi**

Harm frowned at the interruption, "What's all this Tiner?" he demanded as he looked up from the case report he was typing, a pointed hint from the Admiral at Staff Call that he'd rather like a sight of the report into Harm and Mac's recent investigation was enough to send a guilty Harm straight to his computer and start compiling it. Now, with the Admiral waiting (and probably not so patiently) for it, he really didn't need Tiner dumping an arm load of files into his in-tray.

"They're the last three years' worth of budget proposals, sir. The Admiral said for me to hand them off to you and that he wants to see you ASAP, sir!"

Harm winced. As far as he was concerned he'd completed his penance, but he should have known that the Admiral wasn't going to be quite so forgiving!

Closing the file on his desk and locking it into the top drawer of his desk, he shut down his computer, "All right Tiner, just drop 'em on top of the stack!" he said as he got to his feet and muttered to himself, "Once more into the breach, dear friends…"

"Sir?" the puzzled Yeoman, who hadn't quite heard what Harm said.

"Nothing, Tiner. Nothing…" Harm said with a sigh and headed for the Admiral's office.

Chegwidden looked up from the file in front of him as the he heard the knock at his door, "Enter!" he called out, and watched as Rabb crossed the carpet to halt in front of the desk.

"Commander Rabb reporting as ordered, sir!"

"H'mph! At ease, Commander! Now, you may be wondering why I sent you those budget proposals?"

"No, sir. I'm sure the Admiral has his reasons."

"Damn right I do!" Chegwidden retorted. "Since you did such a brilliant job on them a couple of years ago, it appears that for the last two years Colonel MacKenzie used your proposal as a boiler plate and then merely adjusted the figures to allow for the rate of inflation. Which she did again this year! However, this year the SecNav spotted that, and has demanded that budget be reworked, and that each proposal has a rationale, clearly indicating why the funds are needed. To that end, and because Colonel MacKenzie is presently _hors de combat_ – thanks, I understand, to you – and because she will be extremely busy for the foreseeable future in preparing for her handover before she's posted out, you can mentor Lieutenant Rabb in presenting the budget once the two of you have completed its rationale in accordance with the SecNav's requirements." He paused for a moment, fixing a penetrating stare on Harm, "After all, you and the Lieutenant worked extremely well on the LSO cases I handed you, so you shouldn't have much difficulty in completing the proposal by secure on Friday."

The ground cut completely from under his feet, all Harm could do was to helplessly concur, "Aye, aye, sir!""

"Good. And please also bear in mind that you cannot allow your normal duties to be displaced by this additional task!"

"No, sir!" Harm replied, understanding full well that the budget work was to be completed in what were normally his off-duty hours.

"Good – dismissed!"

Harm drew himself up into a brace, "Aye, aye, sir!"

**lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi**

Back in his office Harm shut the door forcefully and threw himself into his chair. "Crap! Doesn't that old bastard ever let up! You'd have thought the quick wrap-up at LeJeune would have gotten me some slack! Damn' Seals, and I thought Marines were bad!" Harm indulged in a few minutes of deep breathing before he got to his feet and quit his office, heading for Loren's smaller domain. He hesitated at Loren's door when he saw the look of concentration on her face as she studied her computer screen, but there was no help for it.

"Um… Loren?"

The blonde visibly jumped, she been so absorbed in what she was reading that she had been completely unaware of his presence at her door. "For God's sake Ha… uh… sir! You could give a girl some warning!" she protested.

"Yeah, that's just what I have come to give you." He saw the question forming on Loren's face and hurriedly continued, "The Admiral has just handed us – you and I – a doozy to be completed by secure on Friday. We have to go over this year's budget submission and come up with a rationale for each and every request."

Loren looked at him in horror, "Sir! I can't! I don't know anything about budgets, and Carolyn – Commander Imes – and I go to trial on Wednesday. I just don't have the time."

Harm winced in sympathy, "Tell me about it. The Admiral also specifically said that normal work was not to suffer because of the budget work. In other words we're supposed to do it on our own time!"

"Why us?" Loren asked with sudden suspicion.

"Apparently because we worked so well together on the FOI requests and sailors' wills!" Harm grinned ruefully.

"Oh, that miserable…"

"Nuh-huh!" Harm held up a warning hand, "I can't hear you use any contemptuous words!" he said, "Oh… and don't think them too loudly either!"

Loren just glared at him and snorted. "It's not funny… sir," she insisted. "How are we going to fit it in?"

Harm shook his head, "We'll just have to do what we did with the FOI crap, and all the rest of it. Take it home with us, get Jen to mind Sasha – and you know she'll love that – while we get our heads together and crunch the numbers!

Loren's shoulders sagged, "Yeah, I 'spose so… but I'm beginning to wonder… between the baby-sitter all day and Jen in the evenings, will Sasha ever really know who her mommy is?"

Harm caught a glimpse of moisture in Loren's eye and hastily shut the door for privacy's sake.

"Is that a real worry, Loren?" he asked gently.

Loren shrugged, "Yes – no – maybe – oh, I don't know! But I am getting sick of his lordship out there, just because he hasn't got a family he never seems to think that other people do. Oh I know I'm out of here pretty well at secure every night, but most nights I have to take home a couple of hours work just to keep my head above water… and you should have seen his face when I last asked for an afternoon off to take Sasha for a post-natal check…"

Harm looked thoughtful, "Yeah… I can see where you're coming from, but… would it be better, then, if we had Sasha in the office with us…? You might not be able to give her your full attention, but at least she'd be with you, and if she stayed as quiet as she did while we were wading through all that LSO crap…"

Loren looked up at Harm, "Would you mind? Oh… but Jen… We'd be leaving her alone for hours…"

"You let me worry about Jen. You never know, I might be able to tire her out before you come over, so once we've had dinner, she'll just quietly drop off to sleep. She has been complaining about feeling tired just lately…" Harm grinned.

Loren's brown wrinkled in a frown, but then as she caught Harm's meaning she blushed fire appliance red, "Harmon Rabb! You… you can't… you just…That was way too much information!" she exclaimed, but with the beginnings of a smile appearing on her face.

"That's better!" Harm enthused. I'll see you at lunch, as usual?"

Loren shook her head glumly and indicated the bulging file open in front of her on her desk and the monitor screen.

"Not if I want to get clear of this lot before secure," she disagreed.

"Okay then, if you can't make lunch, shall I bring you a sandwich and a coffee?"

"No… no thanks, I'll just grab a coffee from the break room at some stage." She eyed him with marked disfavour, "You've just killed any appetite I might have had!"

"Ah, in that case, I'll get going, while the going's good!" Harm grinned.

**lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi**

Despite the shadow of the budget hanging over his head, Harm returned from lunch in a relaxed frame of mind and with a grin on his face as he strolled through the bull pen happily whistling "Anchors Aweigh". For once there had been something different on the cafeteria's vegetarian menu, a spicy chick-pea stuffed baked aubergine, and he had actually managed to wrap up that damned post-LeJeune report and drop it on Tiner's desk on his way to lunch. All he had to worry about now were the three minor cases the Admiral had doled out to him at Staff Call, which just might involve a trip to the Navy Yard, and so get him out from under the Admiral's feet for the afternoon. Yep, for a Monday this wasn't shaping up too bad.

Until just two minutes after he'd sat down at his desk and the phone rang. "Rabb."

"_Sir, it's Tiner. The Admiral wants to see you, sir. ASAP_!"

Damn! What did the Old Man want now? "Very well, Tiner, I'm on my way!"

"_Sir_!"

Harm marched in to the Admiral's office, and just as he had done earlier that same day halted in front of the desk and reported his arrival.

Chegwidden grunted, and snapped, "Stand easy!"

Harm adopted the more relaxed position and waited.

Chegwidden leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk while with his right index finger he tapped the open file in front of him. "I have here a report from the skipper of the _John W Wallace_, DDG, presently secured alongside at Norfolk. He reports the death of BM Three Stanley Oliver, who apparently went over the side and as caught between the hull of the ship and the wall of the dock. However, he reports that Oliver went over the side during the course of a scuffle with a Seaman Apprentice Janice Farmer… He is now holding Farmer in the ship's brig pending an investigation by NCIS. However, Farmer has exercised her right to have an attorney present during questioning, and Commander, guess who she has requested?"

Harm, by exercising an iron will, prevented a grimace from appearing on his face. He had always felt that he hadn't heard the last of the Oliver-Farmer feud, and that one day it would come back to bite him on the ass. "I guess that would be me, sir?"

"You guess correctly, Commander. Get your six down to Norfolk and find out what the hell happened, and then make your report with recommendations to the convening authority and to me. And don't forget, I still want that budget rationale by secure on Friday!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Harm replied he had no other option, but…"What about Lieutenant Rabb's input to the budget proposal scheme, sir? If I'm down in Norfolk for a day or two, and she's second chair for the Quantico courts martial starting on Wednesday…?"

Chegwidden peered at Harm over the top of his glasses. "Good point. Well, she can go with you, sit second chair, as it were, for the investigation. With the two of working the case you should be able to wrap it up by secure tomorrow, and if you leave for Norfolk now, you'll have all evening to work on the rationale. Leaving you the whole of tomorrow to find what happened to this bosun's mate! Any further questions or comments?"

"No, sir!"

"Very well, dismissed!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

**lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi**

Harm lost no time in instructing Tiner to arrange for overnight accommodation for two officers – one male – one female at the Norfolk VOQ, and also arranging for him to use his own SUV for the drive to and from Norfolk. He still had vividly uncomfortable memories of the sluggish beast the motor pool had palmed him off on his last visit to his least favourite Naval Base.

With a minatory glare at the unfortunate Yeoman to let him know the he had neither been forgiven nor forgotten, Harm braced himself for another bout of verbal fireworks from his (unofficially) adopted sister, and crossed the bull pen to her office when he knocked on her door frame and cleared his throat.

Loren looked up in slight annoyance at yet another interruption, "Yes?" she inquired, just the right side of the line of insubordination.

Harm held up his hands in pretended surrender, "Don't shoot the messenger, but you've been detailed to 'second chair' me on an investigation in Norfolk. Leaving in…Five minutes." He waited for the explosion.

Loren's eyes turned to chips of blue ice. "That had better be a joke, sir. But if it is a joke, even a very bad one, I don't think it's very funny, and if it is not a joke, I am even less amused…"

Harm shook his head, "Sorry, Loren. Not a joke. I've just come from the Admiral… And… umm… that's not all… Not only does he want us to investigate this, but he still wants that budget finalised and on his desk by secure on Friday."

"No! It's not right… and… and what about Sasha? How am I ever going to spend time with her… and what about David? We're supposed to be going out to dinner on Wednesday… I've got a hair appointment and… and… "

Harm hurriedly closed the door. The bull pen didn't need to witness Loren having a meltdown. He fished his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her, "Wipe your eyes, and blow your nose!" he commanded brusquely.

Loren glared at him indignantly, "I'm not a six-year old!" she said furiously.

"I know you're not, you're a naval officer and a stressed-out mom, so you're allowed to vent a little. But you don't want to be seen as a freak show by everyone out there, do you!" he said more as a statement than a question.

Loren continued to glare at him, but muttered a reluctant, "No."

Harm smiled approvingly. "Okay… then here's what we'll do. I'll pick up the file from my office and then I'll meet you at the Lexus in say, five minutes. That'll give me time to tell Jen so she can get home and take over from the babysitter without it costing you an extra shift. Where's your sea bag?"

"At home," Loren confessed.

"H'mm… Okay… we can stop there and you can take a few minutes to say goodbye to Sasha, and then we head for Norfolk. We won't get to see Farmer until tomorrow, so this evening we brain-storm the budget. Tomorrow we sort out Farmer – you can read the file on the way down, and I'll fill you in on the background. Then the instant we're done with her, we're on the road back to DC. How's that sound?"

"So… back tomorrow?" Loren asked hopefully.

"Yep, back tomorrow, and I'll type up the budget rationale, and then on Wednesday or Thursday, we'll sign it and hand it in to the Admiral, okay?"

Loren nodded, a glimmer of hope lighting her eyes, "Yeah, okay… and if took my laptop we could make a start on a draft rationale tomorrow while we're working through it!"

"Good thinking!" Harm approved. "So… parking lot in five minutes?"

"Parking lot in five minutes, aye!"" Loren agreed still somewhat sullenly.

**lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi**

Loren's mood was still subdued as Harm turned left onto Annandale Road, leaving their homes behind, and heading for the Beltway. Harm threw her a troubled glance out of the corner of his eye and was relieved to see that she was beginning to read the Farmer file, together with his notes from his previous interview with the Seaman Apprentice.

They were well on their way to Richmond when Loren finally put the file down. "I don't understand it. Farmer apparently got into a scuffle with Oliver, he went over the side. What's to investigate? It's a clear case of manslaughter. That is, if she didn't deliberately push the guy over the guard rail." Loren added doubtfully.

"Well, that's a possibility," Harm conceded, keeping his eyes on the road. "But I don't buy it. It's not as straightforward as that. There was definitely prior bad feeling between them, and in my opinion Oliver was a bully, added to that he outweighed Farmer by a good sixty or seventy pounds. She's about your height and a lot slighter in build. He was about five eleven, maybe even six feet and strongly built. So I don't really see her initiating a scuffle with him. No if there was a scuffle, then I'm betting that Farmer acted in self-defence.

"You think?" Loren asked giving him a pass on the comment about her figure, and for once there wasn't the sarcasm or irony that generally loaded those two words.

"Well… let's say I'm inclined to think that way, but I'm happy to wait until we've conducted our investigation and found the answer to the questions."

"That works for me," Loren agreed, but then sighed, "Do you think Jen's going to be all right on her own with Sasha overnight?"

Harm grinned and risked a quick sideways glance at Loren, "I'm surprised you didn't hear her squeal with excitement when I told her on the phone. She's going to be just fine!"

**lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi**

Jen gave up for the third time trying to get Sasha to go down for a nap, and picking her up and held a drowsy but determined not to sleep baby in her arms. The baby had been fractious and reluctant to take her bottle too, and Jen couldn't fathom out why. She guessed that Sasha could tell the difference between rubber and flesh, but Loren's hours of duty meant that she had to bottle-feed during the day and she should therefore have been more accepting of the bottle than she had. Maybe, Jen thought, Sasha knows that her Mommy should be home right now and is fretting that she isn't.

Jen made a further attempt at laying Sasha in her porta-crib and held her breath as those blue eyes flickered open for a few seconds and Sasha's face contorted as if she was about to start crying again, but then she audibly broke wind and a smile appeared on her face. Her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep.

"You little monster!" Jen scolded the uncaring infant fondly as she used the arm of the couch to pull herself to her feet. "That was it? All that fuss because of a little wind? So it's okay now for aunty Jen to get her dinner? It is? Why, thank you 'most death, Miss Sasha!"

**lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi-lxxxi**


	82. Rough Justice?

**82  
>Rough Justice?<br>**

Jen awoke bleary eyed and fumbled for the switch of her bedside lamp and then picked up her watch, blinking to clear the sleep from eyes, "Oh, good girl!" she said almost cheerfully as she hauled herself out of bed, and shoving her feet into her disgraceful old Garfield slippers she shuffled over to Sash's porta-crib and picked up the infant whose cries had just awoken her.

"Good girl, good girl," Jen murmured into the infants ear, as she gently bounced her, "All the way through until quarter to six! Won't your mommy be surprised when I tell her! But…" Jen sniffed, "Oh dear… someone I know needs hanging doesn't she? Come along then, into the bathroom with you!"

**lxxxii-lxxxii-lxxxii-lxxxii-lxxxii**

At least this time the influx of Admirals and Captains that had contributed to the discomfort of last visit had dissipated, and although the narrow bed was still too short for his six feet four frame, the room was better furnished, and could even be, with a little imagination, termed comfortable. But that wasn't important right now, what was important was the need Harm felt to work off some physical energy. Quickly stripping off his boxers, he stepped into a pair of running shorts and pulled a singlet on over his head before sitting to lace up his running shoes. A five minute trip to the bathroom and teeth cleaned and other bodily needs seen to, he looped the key to the room around his neck, tucked it into the singlet and after a few minutes warm-up, Harm starting slowly headed out for a timed twenty minute run before turning round and heading back to the VOQ.

**lxxxii-lxxxii-lxxxii-lxxxii-lxxxii**

Loren Rabb woke slowly, and stretched luxuriously, and then immediately felt guilty. She shouldn't, she thought, be feeling this relaxed while she was away from Sasha, but the sad fact is she did feel relaxed. Last night, or yesterday evening rather, without the demands of feeding, changing, bathing and putting Sasha to bed, she and Harm had made major inroads into the daunting task of devising a rationale for each separate item of the annual budget proposal. It wasn't finished yet, but if they could get a handle on the Farmer case by… say… early afternoon, there was no reason, she thought, why they couldn't make it back to Falls Church in time to finish the job tonight. In the meantime, and thanks to Sasha normally waking here early, she was rested, and from the sound of it, awake before the majority of the other temporary residents of the VOQ, which gave her the chance of flouting one of the Navy's unwritten rules, she or he that bathes first, bathes fastest!

With a grin, she leapt out of bed, and hastily changing the shorts in which she normally slept for a pair of jogging bottoms she shoved her feet into a pair of gym shoes, grabbed her towel and sponge bag and headed for the showers.

Forty-five minutes later, fully dressed in peanut butters, Loren sat at the table that served as a vanity, and squinted into the tiny mirror as she first applied the little make-up she wore and then twisted here newly washed and dried hair into the tight bun she wore it in on duty. With the last two hair grips in place holding the bun secure just above the level of her collar, she grabbed her cover and stood just as the knock she had been anticipating came at her door. Her shoulder purse properly slung, she opened the door and smiled, "Good morning, Harm. Ready for breakfast?"

Harm grinned, "What? Were you waiting behind the door for me to knock?"

"No, it's just that for once you had perfect timing. I just finished with my hair when you knocked. Now, I repeat, are you ready for breakfast?"

"I am, but if we're heading for breakfast, grab your briefcase. The mess hall is between here and the pier that the _Wallace_ is alongside, so it makes sense not to walk back here just because you forgot your pencils, doesn't it?"

"It does indeed!" Loren agreed with a smile, dipping to pick up her briefcase which providentially she left just inside the door, "So are you ready now Commander? I really didn't expect to have to wait for you," she added demurely with a sly glance at him under her lashes.

Harm laughed in delight. It had been too long since he had seen Loren quite so relaxed, and resolved that he would encourage her to leave Sasha with himself and Jen more frequently, well at least over the next couple of months before Jen's due date.

Loren grinned in response to Harm's laughter and the two of them headed for the Mess Hall with a spring in their step, and even the necessity of returning a multitude of salutes failed to dull their enjoyment of a fine, fall morning.

Harm and Loren carrying their breakfast loaded trays made their way through the maze of tables, a goodly number of them already occupied, looking for a vacant table, out of the way where they could talk about the day's programme without being overheard. Harm nodded towards a corner table, between two windows when their attention was attracted by a suddenly standing figure, who waved at them.

Loren was the first to catch sight of the young officer trying to attract their attention, "Friend of yours?" she asked Harm, nudging him with her elbow and nodding towards the stranger.

Harm glanced across, "Damn, Lieutenant Jacobs! Yeah, I know him, and no," he quickly added seeing Loren's expression change, "he's not a bad guy, but he is on the SJA's staff down here, and I'll bet he's involved in the Farmer case… Still, he's seen us now, so we'd best go make nice."

"After you, Commander," Loren said demurely, but still Harm noted, with that amused glint in her eye.

"Why, thank you kindly, Lieutenant!" he quipped as he led the way to Jacob's table.

Jacobs remained standing until they arrived, "Good morning, sir," he greeted Harm.

"Good morning, Lieutenant. Allow me to introduce Lieutenant Loren Rabb. Loren, this is Lieutenant Sam Jacobs."

"A pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant!" Sam Jacobs exclaimed with his ready smile and an appreciative gleam in his eye.

"Lieutenant," Loren's greeting was cooler, but still friendly as she put her tray down and offered Sam her hand.

There was a scuff of chair legs on the floor as the three officers sat, and then only desultory light conversation as they ate their meals, until Sam, who had a slight start on Harm, and Loren, leaned back in his chair and waited for Harm to push his plate to one side.

"Are you back down here for the Farmer case, sir?" he asked somewhat tentatively.

Harm nodded, "Yep, and the Lieutenant here is second chairing me."

Momentarily diverted and puzzled by the shared name, Sam frowned. He had of course seen Harm's wedding band, but had most definitely not seen one on Loren's finger, and he had been looking for just that item. His curiosity battled with his good manners, and curiosity won out. "Forgive me if I'm getting too personal, sir… but I'm a little confused... you and the Lieutenant have the same name and I didn't think that…"

"Relax, Sam," Harm grinned, "Loren is my adopted sister, and we just happened to end up at Falls Church together." It wasn't quite the whole truth, but Ham was damned if he was going to explain his and Loren's somewhat complicated relationship to a comparative stranger.

"Oh… I see…" Sam said, although he was still bemused, and covered his confusion by taking another sip of his coffee, and taking the opportunity to steer the conversation back to professional matters. "Sir, unless you think it's inappropriate, could we talk about the case? I could do with some advice, sir," he said to Harm.

"Oh?"

"Yes, sir. Like you I'm here for the Farmer case, but I really wish I wasn't. I've been detailed to prosecute, and I'd really much sooner be defending her."

"Do you know something about what happened that night?"

"I haven't spoken to Farmer yet, of course, but…" Sam hesitated.

"Go on Lieutenant, if you know something, anything you'll have to turn it over to the defence at disclosure."

"I don't know anything sir. All I know is that I've been detailed to prosecute the case, but knowing the past history between Farmer and Oliver, I'm pretty sure she's innocent, but on the other hand, knowing how Oliver hazed and bullied her, I wonder if I'm letting my distaste for him subconsciously influence my belief as to Farmer's culpability. I wish I hadn't pulled this duty…"

"Listen up, Lieutenant," Harm spoke firmly, "You took an oath to prosecute or defend to the best of your ability, any case to which you were detailed. It doesn't matter whether you believe in the accused's innocence or guilt. It is your duty to perform that duty to the best of your ability. Any failure to do just that on your part makes you derelict in that duty, and if I thought any trial lawyer to whom I was opposed was soft-pedalling because he – or she" he shot a look at Loren, "let themselves be persuaded from their duty by sentiment, then I would bring that circumstance to the notice of the presiding judge. If you really have doubts about your ability to prosecute to the fullest extent, then I strongly suggest you go back to your CO, Captain Brewster isn't it? And recuse yourself on the grounds of prior acquaintance with the accused!"

Sam nodded unhappily, "I know. You're right, sir, and I will give it my best shot, but I'm hoping this will only go as far as an Article Thirty-Two."

Harm relaxed, "I'm hoping it won't go that far, Sam. I want to collect all the evidence I can to present to the convening authority and once we can show that Farmer is innocent, then get him to drop the charges. Now, you will have to excuse us, we need to go and speak with our client."

"Yes, sir! Thank you sir. Nice to meet you Lieutenant!"

"You too," Loren smiled as she stood and gathered the debris of her meal onto her tray.

Once they'd stacked their trays on the racks provided, Harm and Loren stepped out into the fall sunshine, but Norfolk was as windy as ever and the wind whipping through the artificial canyons between the large, graceless buildings was sharp enough to make both Harm and Loren wish they had thought to bring flight jackets to wear over their peanut butters.

Loren stepped up her pace, as keen as Harm to get out of the blast, but managed to say, "Should Jacobs really be prosecuting this case?"

Harm looked down at her, "It's a tough call to make. I've had to prosecute defendants I knew were innocent, and we've both had to defend clients we were sure were guilty. All we can really do is our best to stick to our duty, and hope that the weight of evidence comes down on the side of truth and that innocent go free while the guilty are punished!"

"That's a bit of a platitude Harm!" Loren objected.

Harm nodded in agreement, "But at the end of the day, that's all we really have."

"God! That's a depressing thought!" Loren answered.

"Yeah, it is. But Norfolk's always had that effect on me!" 'Well, for a good few years, anyway…' Harm thought as he instinctively looked towards where the _Seahawk_ had been alongside on that blackest of days, so many years ago.

"Sir, Commander… this is it, isn't it?" Loren called from behind him.

Harm stopped, and turned, surprised that he had been so deep in memories that he had walked straight past the _John W Wallace's_ gangplank. "Uh… oh… yeah… sure…" he managed, feeling the blood mounting to his face, and now thanking God for the wind he could use as an excuse for his reddened skin.

He turned back and re-joined Loren, who, as he was about to set foot on the gangplank, stopped him with a hand on his forearm and a concerned expression on her face, "Harm, are you all right?" she asked softly.

"Yeah… yeah, I'm fine." Harm nodded and made a half-hearted effort at a smile which totally failed to convince Loren, but he continued, "C'mon, let's get out of this damned wind!"

They hurried up the gangway pausing at the top to salute the quarterdeck and the officer of the day before requesting, "Permission to come aboard, sir!"

The OOD, a fresh faced young Ensign returned their salute, "Your business, sir?"

"Commander Rabb and Lieutenant Rabb, JAG Corps, to see the Captain!" Harm responded.

"Very well, sir!" the young OOD made an entry in the log and looked around, "BM Two Kaminski! Escort these two officers to the Captain's Day Cabin, please!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Kaminski braced up and looked inquiringly at Harm, and also somewhat surreptitiously at Loren.

Harm gave a small grin while Loren bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. "Lead on, BM Two," Harm invited the sailor.

Through doors, over knee knockers and up companion ways Kaminski led the way to the Captain's day, "Here we are, sir, ma'am. Will there be anything else?"

Harm shook his head, "Not from us BM Two, best get back to the deck!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Harm waited until Kaminski was out of sight and hearing before he turned to Loren, "You shouldn't have encouraged him! And I don't get it, normally you'd have reamed out any man who looked at you like that!"

"Oh, come on, it was funny… he was like a kid outside a toy store with his nose pressed against the window, knowing he didn't have any money to spend. And he wasn't much older than that kid anyway. And it was honest appreciation, not like the way Brumby used to look at women, and it was kinda flattering, after all, women my age don't often get that sort of honest attention!"

"Your… what?" Harm asked incredulously, "Women of your age! Loren, I happen to know to the day exactly how old you are! And you are not at that age yet! Nowhere near it!" He looked at her a little more critically, "Now, if you're sure you've got your officer head on, let's try to get this cleared up and on our way back to DC, right?"

Loren nodded, "Right, sir!"

Harm raised his fist and banged twice on the bulkhead next to the cabin door and waited. Sure enough… "Enter!"

Harm and Loren marched in and halted in front of the captain's desk, "Commander Rabb and Lieutenant Rabb, reporting as ordered, sir!"

Commander Atkinson was just as Harm remembered him, apart from the somewhat startled expression on his face, but he made a quick recovery and with what was perilously near a grin, asked, "Only two of you, Commander? After an introduction like that, I was expecting a third Rabb. You know, Rabb, Rabb and Rabb, attorneys at law!" he finished as he registered the blank expressions on Harm and Loren's faces.

"Not yet," Harm answered, "And not quite the partnership you are maybe thinking of, may I introduce my adopted sister, Lieutenant Loren Rabb?"

"Lieutenant, a pleasure to meet you," Atkinson stood as he spoke.

"Sir!" Loren replied crisply.

Atkinson sat down again, "I assume you're here for the Farmer business?"

"Yes, sir. Seaman Apprentice Farmer exercised her right to request a specific attorney, and perhaps remembering the last occasion we met, she requested me. I was available… so, here I am. Lieutenant Rabb will be sitting second chair when the case comes to trial."

"If, the case comes to trial, Commander!" Atkinson said, much to Harm's surprise.

"Why would you say that?"

"Because this case stinks. I have interviewed all hands involved, less of course Oliver. Farmer, Seaman Cordero, Corpsman Two Lincoln, BM Two Werner, Lieutenant Sung and their statements all tally, and then there's the physical evidence: Farmer is bruised up some, consistent with having been in a struggle. She alleges that she was assaulted by Oliver, physically and sexually, that she fought him off and as she pushed him away, he hit the guard rail, lost his balance and went over the side and was caught between the hull and the jetty. And I suggested to Farmer that she request you as her attorney, although she was read her article thirty-one rights, she was understandably shocked and didn't seem to understand them. I also advised her to say nothing to NCIS until you arrived here."

This time Harm was surprised, "That seems to be quite a course correction. The last time we spoke about Farmer you wanted the book thrown at her."

"That's because last time, I was… I thought she was in the wrong, and I still do, but your legal arguments convinced me that I would be wasting my time in pressing charges. This time around, I believe Farmer acted in self-defence and I want her name cleared." He paused, took a breath and then picked up a slim buff coloured manila folder from his desk. "These are Farmer's new orders, to report to OCS at Rhode Island, for class twelve zero one. I want her to attend and pass OCS, she's a formidably intelligent young woman, with an impressive academic record, with a good degree from a good college, she has a methodical mind and a dedication that would put many senior sailors to shame. The Navy needs young men and women of her calibre, so I need her to be found not guilty, or for you to come up with sufficient reason for the charges against her to be dropped."

"But you're the convening authority, sir," Loren interrupted after a quick glance at Harm, "If you're satisfied as to the circumstances, why don't you simply withdraw the charges?"

"Because, Lieutenant, there was a death. And Oliver's family are bound to ask questions. And I can't blame them. Oliver may have been an unsatisfactory sailor, but he was still someone's son and brother."

Harm nodded, "Understood. Where's Farmer now?"

"In the brig." Atkinson replied, "And before you ask, I had no choice in the matter, she's suspected of being guilty of a possible capital offence – this is Virginia, remember, not DC!"

"Well… we've taken enough of your time, if you could get someone to show us to the brig?" Harm suggested.

"Of course!" Atkinson picked up a phone from his desk and buzzed, "Officer of the Day? This is the Captain. Send a messenger to my day cabin."

He listened for the answer, and put the phone down. "A messenger will be here shortly. Is there anything else?"

"No, I don't…" Harm began, but was interrupted by Loren.

"You say that Farmer has marks made in the scuffle, do you have a ship's photographer with a digital camera, sir? Preferably a female photographer?"

"Photographer, yes; female, no. Is that an insurmountable problem, Lieutenant?"

"No sir, we can work around that."

"Anything else you need, Commander?" Atkinson asked.

"Just access to the personnel you mentioned, and access to a phone line."

"I'll have everyone standing by! Anything else?"

"Not for the moment." Harm said decisively.

"Good!" And then as a knock came at the door, he nodded in satisfaction, "That should be your escort! Dismissed!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Harm and Loren chorused, Harm again acknowledging the other Commander's command status aboard his own ship.

The runner, a Quartermaster Seaman once told of their destination swiftly and efficiently led Harm and Loren down and after to the ships brig, a pair of Spartan and cramped compartments below the waterline, uncomfortably reminding Harm of his experience on the _USS Suribachi, _but with an effort he shook off the memory after a moment or two, but still attracting a curious glance from Loren who had noticed his apparent zoning out, but forbore from questioning him.

Admitted to the brig by an MAA One, Harm informed him of the purpose of their visit and that they needed somewhere to interview Farmer.

"Not a problem, sir. Use the MAA's office," he indicated the outer compartment of the brig. "I'll grab a chair and wait in the passageway."

"Thank you, MAA One. If you could bring Farmer out, please?"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Farmer, when she emerged from her cell was pale and trembling and although she made a good attempt at retaining her composure it was plain to both Harm and Loren that the young woman was scared and upset.

"Good morning, Farmer," Harm smiled, "If it wasn't for these circumstances, I'd have said it was good to see you again, how are you holding up?"

"Pretty good, I think, sir. The skipper explained why I had to stay in the Brig, and they've looked after me okay, sir."

"Good. This is Lieutenant Rabb, my second chair for this case, and we are going to do our best to spring you from this place, hopefully today."

"You can do that, sir?" Farmer asked, a faint gleam of hope appearing in her eyes.

Harm nodded, "I think so, if your explanation holds up in the daylight, then I think we have a pretty good chance, but I can't promise you anything."

"Understood, sir."

Harm nodded, taking in the details if Farmer's appearance, a strip of adhesive tape held in place by three butterfly stitches covered the outer edge if her left eyebrow and her left eye was bruised and half-closed, that taken together with her split and puffed lower lip seemed to indicate that she had received at least two heavy blows to the face, while what appeared to be bruises on her throat suggested she had been man-handled.

Harm took his portable voice recorder from his briefcase and set it up on the desk in front of him, while Loren took out her notepad and sat, pencil poised.

"I'll be recording this conversation, just the way I did before," Harm told the young woman, "So why don't you tell us what happened?"

Farmer nodded, "We were off-watch, and I went ashore for dinner with my boyfriend – he's working on his doctorate in electro-mechanical engineering at U Richmond… then when we finished dinner…"

"Where did you go for dinner?" Loren asked.

"Oh… uh… the uh… No Frills Grill, on Spotswood. We've been there a couple of times… It's a bit pricey on our income, but we don't get to see each other much these days…"

"I know the feeling!" Loren smiled. "Would the staff there remember you?"

"I… I think so… we made a reservation, and we were there most of the evening, and then at the end we split the bill and we both paid by card…"

"Were you drinking?"

"Donnie had a couple of light beers. I had a beer before we ate and a glass – a large glass – of wine with dinner. We both stuck to coffee after we'd eaten."

"Okay… then what happened?"

"We left the restaurant about ten-thirty, and we sat in Donnie's car for a while… you know…talking… mostly about me trying OCS up at Rhode Island, and then making out a little… And then after a while Donnie drove me back here, as far as the gate. He's a civilian, and he hasn't got a dockyard pass, so he let me out at the gate and I walked back to the ship."

"Didn't that strike you as dangerous?" Harm asked in surprise.

"Well, it's not normally something I'd do alone, sir. But I didn't have much option right then."

"Okay… so you made it back to the ship, then what?"

"I signed in with the OOD and made my way after along the upper deck, making for the WTD at frame ninety-three. There's a companion way there that goes straight down to the passageway right outside female country."

"Then what happened?"

"I was just about at the door when Oliver yelled at me from behind. Like a dumbass, I stopped and turned and asked him what the hell he wanted now."

"What did he yell?" Harm asked.

"Uh… something like, 'wait up Farmer, I want a damned word with you!'"

"Uh-huh," Loren said, "What was his demeanour when he approached you?"

"He was aggressive… almost intimidating. He said something like, 'It's about time bitches like you learned their place in the navy,' and he grabbed hold of me, and tried to kiss me…"

"What do you do then?" Harm asked gently.

"I tried to push him off, but he had one hand on my throat, and he hit me a couple of times and told me to keep quiet. I wasn't knocked out, but I was a bit out of it, you know? Then he grabbed my breast with his other hand and squeezed... and that' when I reacted… I kneed him in the groin, and then when he doubled over, but came back at me, I kicked him in the face, he went up, staggered backwards and hit the guard rail and went over the side…" Farmer paused, fighting to keep control… "I screamed and then the OOD and a couple of the anchor watch came up running up. They took me to the sick-bay where the Corpsman patched me up, and then brought me here."

"Anything else you can tell us?" Loren asked softly.

"No, ma'am… like what?"

"Well, it seems a bit strange that Oliver attacked you out of the blue like that? Where did he come from? Was he drunk or high?"

"Uh… he'd been drinking, ma'am, I could smell the alcohol on him… stale beer… but he wasn't falling down drunk or anything."

"Uh-huh…" Loren eyed the dungarees and T-shirt that Farmer was wearing, "What happened to the clothes you were wearing? I take it you didn't go out to a restaurant in that rig?"

"No, ma'am. The clothes I had… the Master at Arms took them…"

"Okay, Farmer, relax. Lieutenant, why don't you poke your head out into the passageway, and ask the MAA where Farmer's clothes are, and see if that photographer has turned up? I want pictures of her cuts and bruises."

Loren stood and opened the door, "MAA One, where are the prisoner's clothes?"

"Bagged and tagged for evidence, ma'am… right here in the evidence locker…"

"Good, open it up please, we'll be needing to get those to forensics."

"Sure thing, ma'am, if you'll just sign here… maintaining the chain of evidence, y'know?"

"Got it Master, thanks," Loren signed the necessary docket and took custody of the clear plastic bag. "Are these your clothes… and shoes, Farmer?"

"They sure look like them, ma'am."

Loren examined the bag, "You didn't have a purse with you?"

"No, ma'am just a wallet in my jacket pocket…"

"Master?" Loren cocked an eye at him.

"In the prisoner's property locker, ma'am."

Loren nodded satisfied and turned to the Photographer's Mate Two standing by and holding an expensive looking camera. "Come on in PM Two… we want good, clear, pictures of the Seaman's injuries. Farmer, are there any more cuts or bruises that are covered by your clothing?"

Farmer cast a nervous glance at the photographer, "Yes, ma'am on my upper arms, and… and…"

"Where he grabbed you?" Loren asked sympathetically.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Okay… I know this is going to be difficult for you, but we do need to have shots of that bruising too. How about we get the PM here to set the camera, and I take the shots, would that be okay?"

"Oh, yes ma'am, thank you, ma'am!"

Loren turned to the three males in the room. So, Commander, Master, if you would give us the room please?" her voice said although she was asking politely it wasn't really a request. "And PM, if you can show me how to set up the camera, then you can step outside too. It is a digital camera?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good, when we're done, I'll need the memory card. Does it need a special protective case?"

"No ma'am, an ordinary envelope or better, a plastic bag would do…"

"Or an evidence bag," Loren nodded, and then paid attention as the Photographer's Mate explained the working of the camera to her before she ushered him out of the compartment.

It was only five minute or so later that Loren opened the door, "All right gentlemen, we're done. PM Two, please extract the memory card, and Master a small evidence bag, if you please?"

The card was bagged and tagged, the photographer dismissed and while the Master at Arms returned Farmer to her cell, Loren turned to Harm, "What now?"

"Now, we start interviewing the anchor-watch personnel who responded to the scuffle."

**lxxxii-lxxxii-lxxxii-lxxxii-lxxxii**

The destroyer's XO found them a cramped corner of the Navigation cabin to question the anchor watch personnel involved. None of them could shed any real light on the matter, except for the Petty Officer of the Watch who stated that Oliver had followed Farmer up the gangplank at an interval of less than a minute – they were both signed aboard at the same time, although they were definitely not together. And yes, Oliver had been drinking, but in the Petty Officer's opinion he was not drunk. The Petty Officer also added, that Oliver had a reputation for being short-tempered when he was sober, and for being unpredictable when he had been drinking.

The OOD and the female seaman who had assisted Farmer to the sick-bay both stated that they didn't witness the scuffle and knew nothing of what happened until they heard Farmer scream, but they both agreed that she seemed shocked by events and that she was bleeding from both a split lip and from a cut above her eye, and that the eye was already showing bruising.

Harm and Loren had been provided with a pot of coffee by an obliging Wardroom Steward, who had also asked if they would be eating lunch aboard, and promised to make sure that a meal was ready for them when they required it. Harm looked at Loren and said that a plate of sandwiches and another pot of coffee would see to their needs. They were still working through the evidence and their first pot of coffee, when another knock at the door temporarily distracted them.

It wasn't the obliging steward this time however, but Lieutenant Sam Jacobs, accompanied by a rather round-faced and oddly slightly nervous younger man.

"Commander, I've got NCIS Special Agent McGee from the Norfolk detachment. He needs to interview the accused, and she won't speak without her attorney – you – being present.

Harm grinned at Loren and drained his coffee cup, "See, I told you she was a smart girl!" and he stood reaching for his cover and briefcase.

Loren also stood but turned her back to Jacobs and McGee and said in an urgent whisper, "Harm, I can't do this now. I need to go back to the Q… I… uh… I'm already feeling uncomfortable…"

Harm frowned, "Why, what's wrong?"

"I need to… express… I usually do it in the morning or at midday, and it's going to be damned painful if I don't."

Harm looked puzzled, "Express?" and then the penny dropped and the tip of his ears turned red, "Oh! Gentlemen, we're going to have to adjourn for an hour. Meet us at the brig at…" he looked at his watch… "Twelve fifteen hours!"

Loren smiled gratefully, "Thank you, sir!" and picking up her cover slipped out of the room.

McGee frowned, "What was all that about?" he demanded, Like Sam Jacobs, not having been able to hear the whispered conversation between Harm and Loren.

"Need to know, Agent McGee, need to know!" Harm grinned.


	83. Tuna Grill

**A/N: **I know that the University of Richmond doesn't have a department of electrical-mechanical engineering, but for the sake of the story, let's just pretend it does, Okay?

**83  
>Tuna Grill<br>**

"But… where's she gone?" Tim asked.

"She has a little personal business which can't wait, not without it having possible health implications." Harm said firmly and then indicated the newly delivered tray of sandwiches brought by the obliging Wardroom Steward, together with a large pot of coffee. Harm had a quick word with the steward, who nodded and with a quiet, "Aye, aye, sir," left the two officers and the NCIS Agent to their lunch.

Once the steward had left, Harm, Sam Jacobs and Agent McGee made substantial inroads into the tray of sandwiches, disturbed only by the return of that same steward a few minutes later with a further covered plate of sandwiches for Loren for when she got back from the VOQ.

It was nearly ten minutes past twelve before Loren made it back to ship and risking indigestion she practically threw a cup of coffee down her throat and crammed a sandwich into her mouth and was reaching for a second when Harm grasped her wrist. "Take it easy, settle down and enjoy your lunch. We can afford to wait an extra ten minutes or so, can't we gentlemen?"

He spoke pleasantly enough but his cocked eyebrow clearly conveyed his message.

"Of… of course we can," Agent McGee agreed, "In fact, I think I'll have another coffee, if there's one to spare!"

Loren swallowed, took a breath and then grinned. "Have you been with NCIS very long, Agent McGee?"

The tips of the young man's ears pinkened, "Uh… no ma'am, not very long."

"And have you served as Agent Afloat yet?" Loren asked pausing before she took another bite of her sandwich.

"Uh… No, again, ma'am. The truth is that Norfolk is my first assignment."

Harm and Loren exchanged startled looks and then both looked at Sam Jacobs who could only give a weak grin and an embarrassed shrug.

"Well, once you've had a little more experience," Loren said kindly, "You will discover that on board a US Navy ship, there's always enough coffee!"

"Now that is true," Harm agreed. "They say – whoever they are – that the US Navy uses as many gallons of coffee a day as it does fuel oil!"

"More of course, on the nuclear powered ships," Sam Jacobs added helpfully.

McGee looked at the three peanut butter clad Navy officers suspiciously. In his admittedly somewhat limited experience, more seasoned hands both Navy and NCIS weren't above playing jokes on newcomers. "Okay… what's the punch line?" he asked somewhat plaintively.

Sam Jacobs shook his head, "There's no punch line, Tim; that really is what is said."

"Oh… Okay…" McGee lapsed into silence and covered his embarrassment by pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee and taking a long sip of it.

Despite Harm's willingness to give her time to enjoy her lunch, Loren wasted no time and it was just short of ten minutes after her arrival that she took a last gulp of coffee and wiped her lips on a paper napkin. "I'm ready, sir, if you gentlemen are!" she said to Harm.

Harm nodded, "Let's get this show on the road."

He hung back to let Jacobs and McGee precede him, but as Loren made to step past him, he took hold of her elbow, "Did we just hear that right? That McGee is a probationary agent, and he's on a potentially capital investigation, on his own?"

Loren too looked slightly concerned, "If he's telling the truth about Norfolk being his first assignment – and there's no reason to suppose that he is lying about that – then, yeah that's what it seems like!"

Harm nodded again, his face now grim, "Okay let's get down there and hope that McGee isn't so… so…"

"Incompetent?" Loren offered.

"No… not incompetent. I get the feeling from talking with him while you were away that he's a good bit more intelligent than either of us. No, what I'm afraid of is his lack of experience leading him into making a rookie mistake that will prolong the whole investigation until it gets sorted out, and in the meantime Farmer sits in the brig, and may well miss put on her chance at OCS."

Loren nodded in her turn, "Good point… so shall we head on down to the brig and do our best to make sure that doesn't happen?"

"That we shall!" Harm agreed vehemently.

**lxxxiii-lxxxiii-lxxxiii-lxxxiii-lxxxiii**

With three JAGs an NCIS Agent and Seaman Apprentice Farmer all crammed into the MAA's outer office in the brig it was more than just cosy, and the MAA Two, a different Petty Officer since the watch changeover at midday, was less than pleased when Harm sent him hunting for spare chairs and liked it even less when he was told that his presence wasn't required for the interview.

Once the seating arrangements were sorted out, Farmer sat between Harm and Loren on one side of the desk, while Sam Jacobs and Tim McGee sat the other side.

Harm, as the senior officer present began the proceedings, "Seaman Apprentice Farmer, this is NCIS Special Agent McGee. Do you understand what that means?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Good. Now, he is here to question you about events last night up until the time that BM Three Oliver went overboard, do you understand?"

"Well, yes, sir… but I thought that you and the Lieutenant did all that this morning…"

"We did, but we are your defence team, and we needed to be told everything. Agent McGee on the other hand is asking questions on behalf of Lieutenant Jacobs, whom you already know, and who, if the case comes to trial, will be prosecuting you. So this afternoon Lieutenant Rabb and I are here to ensure that you don't inadvertently make any incriminating answers to Agent McGee's questions, and to make sure that the questions he does ask you are relevant. Now do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl," Harm smiled encouragingly and digging into his briefcase he brought out his mini cassette recorder and a new blank tape, still sealed in its retail packaging. He showed the tape to Jacobs, McGee and to Farmer before he stripped the wrapping from it and slotted it into the recorder.

"Once again, I intend to tape this conversation, does anybody have any objections to that?" Harm asked formally, receiving no answer he added, "Good… Agent McGee the floor is yours."

"Thank you, Commander. Now Seaman Farmer, let's try and make this as painless as possible. Why don't you tell me in your own words exactly what happened last night? Start from when you came off watch…"

Farmer nodded nervously, "Yes, sir. I came off watch at sixteen hundred hours, and went straight back to my rack. I talked with a couple of the other girls for maybe twenty minutes or half an hour… I wasn't really watching the time. Then I showered and changed into civilian clothes ready to go ashore at eighteen thirty hours, to meet my boyfriend at the Navy Yard main gates…"

"Was this a pre-arranged date, or a routine thing, that you met him when you were off watch?"

"It was a pre-arranged ate, sir. He's a post-grad at U of Richmond, and neither of us can afford to travel back and forwards between Norfolk and Richmond on a regular basis."

"I see…" McGee made a note, "And the boyfriend's name?"

"Donnie… uh… Donald Edward Stewart, sometimes the other guys call him Des, because of his initials, but his family and I always call him Donnie."

"And his address?"

"He shares a house on Towanda Road, 6074, Richmond, but I don't know the zip code. But it's usually easier to find him at the Department of Electrical and Mechanical Engineering."

"He's an engineering student?" McGee asked.

Farmer nodded, "He's working for his doctorate in prosthetics, working on a less expensive system of connecting micro electric motors direct to the body's nervous system so that an amputee has better control over his or her prosthesis… Oh, I'm sorry, I tend babble a little when I talk about him, but he's so brilliant…"

McGee nodded, a friendly smile on his face, "That's understandable, and these days with so many of our servicemen and women…"

"Yeah," Farmer nodded enthusiastically, "That's what makes it so great!"

"Uh-huh… Now, when you got to the gate, did you have to wait for uh…? Donnie?"

"No, sir. He was there before me. I just crossed the road and straight into the car."

"What sort of car?" McGee asked.

"Don't answer that!" Harm interrupted. "Agent McGee, that's not really relevant. If you must know, you've got the young man's name and address, and I'm sure that somewhere you can find the number of the DMV."

McGee nodded, "Fair enough. Now, Seaman Farmer, when you got into the car where did you and Donnie go?"

Farmer took a breath and then repeated the story she had told Harm and Loren that morning, concluding with, "there was this sort of horrible squelching splash and I screamed… and then the anchor watch came running up, took me below to the sick bay and then I was brought here."

"Okay… that's a pretty comprehensive statement… I just have a couple of questions for you. Why when you came aboard did you go aft on the upper deck, instead of going below and then making your way to women's country?"

"Well it's quicker, you don't have to worry about knee knockers, or squeezing past other people, and the passageways leading aft… well, this is a small; ship and both passageways, port and starboard lead through the men's accommodation spaces, and some of the guys aren't too particular about keeping doors closed, and at that time of night… So most of us girls we tend to go aft on the upper deck and then down the companion way at frame ninety three, it leads to a space right outside the WTD to female country."

"I see… Now did you see Oliver at any stage during your evening ashore with your boyfriend"

"No sir. We had dinner, we sat and talked for a whole, and then we came straight back here. Oliver was hardly the kind of guy who would be at the No Frills Grill. His level was more the strip bars outside the main gates. Loud music, loud mouths cheap beer and loud, cheap women."

McGee registered a greater degree of interest, "You didn't like Oliver, did you?"

"Don't answer that!" Harm interrupted again. "The Seaman doesn't need you trapping her into an admission that had nothing to do with Oliver's assault on her. Don't start trying to blame the victim, Agent McGee!"

"Commander, I give you credit for knowing your job. Now I may not be as experienced as you, and maybe I'm not as experienced as some other agent that you'd like to see handling this case. But I do know what I'm doing. And what I'm trying to do is to establish a possible motive for Oliver's otherwise inexplicable attack on Seaman Oliver. It doesn't make sense. If he had assaulted her, sexually or otherwise, then he must have known that there was a very good chance that the scuffle would attract the attention of the anchor watch, or that Farmer would report him afterwards."

"Unless of course he had the intention of knocking her on the head and dumping her overboard, and through his own clumsiness, or just plain misfortune, ended up being the one going over the side." Harm countered the agent's argument.

"Or he terrorised her with the threat of a repeat performance if she ever opened her mouth about it!" Loren added bitterly. "Oh, don't look so surprised;" she told the three men, "Such things happen all the time!"

"It wouldn't with me ma'am!" Farmer said fiercely.

"Easy, Seaman, stand down," Harm cautioned her. "You don't want to give Agent McGee any grounds to think that you might have been so mad at Oliver that you pushed him overboard on purpose!"

Farmer went white, and looked sick at the idea, "God, no, sir! I couldn't do that to anybody!" For a second it looked like she might be about to say more, and once again Harm stepped in.

"Okay, seaman, you've made your point." He said calmly.

"So… there was a history of bad blood between you and Framer? Former animosity?"

"Don't answer that, either!" Harm said and fixed McGee with a stern look. "Agent McGee, we've heard what Seaman Apprentice Farmer had to say. I reckon she's been totally above-board and honest. She was attacked; the whys and wherefores don't matter at this stage, she defended herself, but regrettably, BM Three Oliver – the attacker, I remind you, and who may have been incapacitated through over indulgence in alcohol, lost his balance, or tripped on a deck fitting, staggered back, and went over the guard rail where he was caught between the ship's hull and the jetty. Sounds to me like a clear case of self-defence... So as far as I... as we're concerned, this interview is over! – Master at Arms!" he raised his voice enough so that the waiting MAA Petty Officer could hear.

"Sir?" he asked as soon as he opened the door.

"Escort Seaman Apprentice Farmer, back to her cell, please!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" he paused a second and looked at Farmer, "Come on then, let's get you safely locked up!"

Farmer got to her feet and smiled shyly at Harm and Loren, "Thank you sir, and you too ma'am!" and the turned and walked towards the door that shut the row of cells off from the MAA's office.

McGee nodded, realising that he wasn't going to get any further forward, and to tell the truth, he had also been impressed by the young woman's frankness and willingness to co-operate. "Fine by me Commander. Just a couple of minor points to clear up… where are Farmer's clothes, the ones she was wearing last night? I understand from the Corpsman Petty Officer that treated her injuries that there was blood on her clothes. They'll have to be gone over by our forensics department. And if the blood is Farmer's then that goes a long way to corroborating her story. If she had been blood-stained when she came aboard, I reckon the OOD or the Bosun's Mate at the head of the gangway would have noticed?"

"Agreed," Harm said, "Lieutenant, hand 'em over!"

Loren leaned down to pick up the sealed evidence bag and handed it to McGee. "Sign here," she indicated the seal, "just to preserve the chain of evidence."

McGee gave her a look that said he knew very well what he was doing.

"The body is where?" Loren then asked.

"In the morgue at Portsmouth Hospital," Sam Jacobs replied.

Harm nodded, understanding immediately where Loren was headed, "Make sure that whoever does the autopsy does a full blood scan, for alcohol and for any other substances that might have been inhaled, injected or ingested!"

Jacobs nodded, "Aye, aye, sir!"

"And get 'em to put a rush on it, and you too Agent McGee, we don't want Farmer to miss out on her OCS spot!"

McGee smiled, "On it, Commander! As soon as I get the results back, I'll submit my report to the convening authority!"

"You do that!" Harm grinned.

"Can you give us any clue as to what your report might say?" Loren smiled at the young agent and had to bite back a grin when he blushed.

"Well ma'am, provided the anchor watch personnel back up her story, well as much as they can, and the forensics come back with the expected results, then I shall recommend that all charges be withdrawn and that Farmer be returned to duty – in plenty of time for her to make it up to Rhode Island! And now if you'll excuse me I have to find a Lieutenant Sung!"

Loren and Harm watched the Agent bustle away up and forward. Loren grinned, "Let's just hope that Lieutenant Sung says the same to McGee as he did to us!"

"Let's hope he says anything!" Harm grinned, referring to the taciturn officer they had spoken to this morning and who, wherever possible had confined his answers to monosyllables.

**lxxxiii-lxxxiii-lxxxiii-lxxxiii-lxxxiii**

"Well?" Commander Atkinson sat back in his chair and looked across his desk at Harm and Loren.

Harm tapped his briefcase, "We've got Farmer's statement and the statements of those members of the anchor watch who arrived at the scene within seconds of hearing her scream. We've got the statements of the Bosun's Mate of the Watch who signed Farmer and Oliver back aboard. The statement of the Corpsman who treated Farmer's injuries. They are all consistent with Farmer being attacked and then defending herself. We are waiting results of the PM on Oliver, and the forensic examination of the clothes she was wearing when she was attacked. In the face of the evidence we have gathered, and waiting for the NCIS Investigation report, my recommendation is that Farmer faces no charges. She was attacked, she defended herself."

"But until then, she stays in the brig?" Atkinson queried.

"You could place her in open arrest," Harm suggested. "Release her from the brig, but confine her aboard until the NCIS report arrives, and you can then drop all charges if that report supports my recommendations."

Atkinson nodded thoughtfully, "Yeah… I might do just that…"

"There's one other thing you might do, sir." Loren said.

Both Harm and Atkinson looked at her in mild surprise.

"Go on, Lieutenant," Atkinson invited her.

"Sir, according to Farmer's statement, the women members of the crew are in the habit of making their way aft on the upper deck to the watertight door at frame ninety-three before going below. I realise that this is a small ship and space is at a premium, so clearing a route forward and aft so that it doesn't pass through the male accommodation spaces is virtually impossible, but while the ship is in port, would it be possible to have a light rigged in the area of that door? It's a bit like closing the stable door after the horse has bolted, but…"

Atkinson took no more than a second to respond, "No I wasn't aware of that. Good point, Lieutenant. Thank you. Although I don't know why somebody aboard this ship hadn't already brought it to my attention!"

"Well, then, sir, by your leave?"

"Yes, of course, thank you Commander, and you too Lieutenant. You'll let me have a copy of your report ASAP?"

"We'll fax it to you within twenty-four hours." Harm promised.

Atkinson stood, "In that case, safe journey!" he said as he offered Harm and then Loren his hand.

**lxxxiii-lxxxiii-lxxxiii-lxxxiii-lxxxiii**

Dressed once again in his service dress, he wasn't about to chance turning up at JAG HQ in peanut butters again; Harm dropped his and Loren's bags in to the cargo space of the Lexus and climbed up behind the wheel. Looking across at Loren also back in blues, he grinned, snapped his seat-belt into place and fired up the engine, "Ready to go home?" he asked.

"Damn straight!" Loren affirmed.

"Well, what are we hanging about for?" Harm asked and knocking the gear lever into drive he rolled the Lexus out of the VOQ parking lot and towards the main gate.

Once checked out at the gate and driving towards the Hampton Roads tunnel, Loren looked at her watch. "Just coming up to fourteen hundred hours. Are we going to make it back before secure?"

"Touch and go, if it looks like no, then I'll just head on home! That'd suit you too, wouldn't it? Straight home to Sasha?"

"You might think so, but I couldn't possibly comment," Loren said somewhat smugly, "Although I wouldn't complain too much if we were to get held up for say… twenty minutes or so on the way."

"No… I didn't think you would!" Harm said dryly.

Loren just smiled, smugly.

**lxxxiii-lxxxiii-lxxxiii-lxxxiii-lxxxiii**

"That's another shirt ruined!" Harm grumped as he climbed back behind the wheel.

"Better your shirt than your service dress jacket," Loren observed, "and I did offer to help," she reminded him.

Some of the frustration disappeared from harm's face, "Yeah, you did," he acknowledged, "and thanks for that. But there was no real reason for the two of us to get cold, wet and dirty," he replied as he fired up the engine and the windscreen wipers came back into play. "But, it was entirely your fault. If you had just thought beautiful thoughts about the journey, instead of bombarding the ether with negative waves about hold-ups, we'd have never picked up that damned flat!" Harm pointed out in tones of great patience.

"Oh, that is so not fair!" Loren protested, "When I talked about a hold up, I meant a tail-back. I had nothing but beautiful thoughts about the tyres – Oddball!"

Harm winced as the slipstream of a passing eighteen wheeler – too close, Harm thought – made the Lexus rock, as he slipped it back into gear, accelerating along the shoulder while he anxiously peered into the rear-view and wing mirrors, trying through the spray and the driving rain to identify a gap in the traffic into which he could ease the SUV.

Loren, recognising the concentration that Harm need to pull off the manoeuvre safely in these weather and visibility conditions stayed silent until with an almost audible sigh of relief Harm edged the car out into the right hand land.

"Okay… now given that we've had our delay, I swear that I shall have nothing but positive thoughts about the rest of the journey. Okay?"

Harm nodded, but said glumly, "But it might be too late. We're on the I-95 in the middle of a rain storm. What's the betting some idiot will be driving too fast for the conditions and have a wreck? And if that happens, with this amount of traffic on the roads, we could well be in for a ten mile tail back while all the rubber-neckers slow down for a good look as they drive past!"

Loren nodded, but then as she turned back toward Harm to answer his gloomy prognosis she was struck by another, far different thought. "Um… Harm… you're not going to like this, but we need to pull off at the next truck stop or roadside diner…"

Harm almost groaned, "Why?"

"Because you're only just getting over a hell of a cold, you're soaking wet and you need to get into warm, dry clothes."

"No, the hell with that, I'll be okay!"

"No you won't! You're already shivering!" and he was, despite the heater blasting hot air into the cab.

"I'll be fine. Look it's nice and warm in here and I'll soon warm up!"

"Well if you won't do it for yourself, do for Jen, for Sasha and for me!"

"Huh?"

"Oh, very eloquent. Look if you catch a cold, you're bound to pass it on to Jen, and she really doesn't need a cold on top of everything else being six months pregnant involves. And if you catch a cold, then you'll either pass it on to Sasha, and even if you don't, I won't be able to leave Sasha with you tomorrow for fear of just that! And if I may remind you, tomorrow's the day that David and I have a date, and if I have to cancel at the last minute, then I will kill you! And finally, if you catch a cold, and I don't do anything to prevent it, then Jen will probably kill me – just before she kills you!" Loren said dolefully, but with a sly sideways glance under her lashes as she tried to gauge just what effect her words were having.

"Oh! Okay! Okay!" Harm gritted out in the tone of a man driven beyond endurance, "But don't think I don't realise what you just did!"

"Me? Why, did I do something?" Loren asked, fighting down the urge to laugh.

"Damn straight you did! And you know it!" Harm said with a reluctant grin.

At that, Loren did laugh.

**lxxxiii-lxxxiii-lxxxiii-lxxxiii-lxxxiii**

It was dusk by the time Harm turned the Lexus into the drive, although with the black clouds scudding overhead it was almost full dark, so Harm almost missed seeing the strange car parked in the drive next to Jen's Sebring. His sudden stop jerked both he and Loren forward against the restraints of their seat belts, bringing a protesting "Harm!" from Loren and a grunt of forcibly exhaled air from Harm.

"Phew, sorry about that!" he apologised, "but I wasn't expecting that! And of course, I couldn't see it past the hedge until I turned in!"

"H'mm… do you recognise it?" Loren asked.

"Nope, Maryland plates… and it's a Chrysler… late model Concorde… H'mm…I'm beginning…No, let's just go in and see, that way all the questions get answered at once."

"Good thinking!" Loren exclaimed, unsnapping her seat belt. "I can't wait to see Sasha again!"

"You go on ahead then; I'll get the bags…" Harm began and then both he and Loren looked around as the front door opened and light spilled put on to the lawn, showing Jen waiting in the doorway.

"No you go on, we can get the bags later," Loren smiled.

"What and get wet again after we've been inside and gotten dried off? Come on, let's both grab our bags and head on in!"

"Okay. Ready?" Loren asked, her hand on the door handle, "One… two… three!"

As quick as they were they were both thoroughly wetted by the time they reached the door. Jen had seen them, laughing as they ran towards the light, and had wisely stepped back until they were safe inside and their bags had been dropped before, heedless of Harm's wet sweat shirt, she stepped forwards and slid her arms around him, and raised her face for his kiss.

When they broke, Loren was still stood there, running her fingers through her hair, trying to comb some of the wet out of it, and with an indulgent smile on her face, "You two…" was all she said as she slowly shook her head, "Couldn't you wait until you were properly indoors?"

A stricken look came over Jen's face, "Harm… Your…"

"Mom and Frank are here. Yeah, I saw the car… fact is, I nearly hit it, and I guessed who it might be! C'mon, let' go in and meet the lions. Loren, where do you think you're going? Unless I pretty much mistake my guess, you're going to need to reclaim Sasha from her grandparents!"

Jen smiled and shook her head, "No, he's not wrong, Loren. C'mon, I could do with some immoral support!"

Harm walked through into the lounge with Jen and Loren close behind him, Frank was sat on the couch a happily gurgling Sasha in his arms, and a gentle smile on his face. A quick glance around showed Harm a familiar blue, white-piped blazer hung on one of the dining chair backs. He recognised it as being part of his mother's favourite travelling outfit, well one of them anyway, but of Trish Burnett there was no other sign.

"Hi, Frank, where's mom? No, don't get up, you and your girlfriend look too cute to disturb!"

Frank smiled at Harm's teasing, "Hi, son. Yeah, she is a cutie isn't she? But the only way I could get any alone time with her was to tell Jennifer to sit down and rest and despatch your mom to the kitchen!"

Harm instinctively turned towards that room just as Trish emerged from it, drying her hands on a towel and dressed in an open necked white shirt and a pair of charcoal grey slacks, most of the latter concealed by the apron she had tied around her waist. "Hello, darling," she said softly,

"Hi Mom," Harm said swiftly closing the gap between them and gathering her into his arms for a hug and a kiss.

"Don't you listen to him, Harm; he's full of it as usual." Trish said when Harm released her, "The only way I could think of to get him out of my hair – you know how I hate anyone being underfoot when I'm cooking – was to distract him with Sasha!"

"You're cooking?" Harm said in mock surprise. "I didn't know you could cook!"

"Just because Anna-Maria does most of the cooking back home, doesn't mean I've forgotten how to boil an egg, young man!" Trish said with awful dignity.

Looking suitably abashed, although his eyes were dancing with laughter, Harm replied with a humble, "No, ma'am… I mean yes, ma'am… Oh Mom… it's great to see you! But why didn't you let us know you were coming?"

"We didn't say we were coming because we wanted our visit to be a surprise of course!" Trish said innocently, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and thinking about it, where his mom was concerned, Harm had to concede that she was right!

Loren and Jen had watched with smiles as Harm and his mom greeted each other, but Loren's attention couldn't be distracted from her daughter for very long, and crossing to the couch she sat beside Frank and held her hands out to Sasha. Sasha seemed to recognise her mother and squirmed excitedly, reaching out her own little arms.

Frank sighed in exaggerated despondency and said, "So much for her fickle little heart…" as he lifted Sasha into Loren's waiting arms.

"No such thing, I'm afraid," Loren grinned. As soon as Sasha was safe in her mommy' arms, she turned her face to Loren's breast and started rooting, "It's just cupboard love! When did you last feed her?" she asked Jen.

"About six hours ago. I was going to give her another hour, and then if you wouldn't have showed up, feed her again. But I'm glad you're back, we've run out of milk and her next feed was going to have to be formula!"

Loren nodded, "Yeah… gonna have to start doing something about that… In the meantime, I'll just take her through to the dining room…"

"No need for that," Harm interjected. "You stay put in comfort, I need to go take a quick shower and change… unless dinner is nearly ready?" he looked at his mom.

"Not yet, the potatoes will take about twenty minutes, and I won't be putting the steaks under the grill until they're half-done… so go, but hurry up!"

"And if you don't mind, Harm, I need to make a couple of telephone calls that need a bit of privacy. Is it okay if I use the den?"

"Sure go on ahead, Frank." He smiled at Jen, you can stay and keep Loren and Mom company; I'll be as quick as I can!"

Jen grinned back at him, "Yes, O Master!" she said cheekily, and Harm winced. He had learned through experience that when Jen used that phrase she had some deviltry in mind for payback. Fortunately she wouldn't do anything too embarrassing in front of his mom and Frank – he hoped.

By the time he returned downstairs, freshly showered, Sasha had been fed and placed in her porta-crib where she was happily dozing while Frank, Loren and Jen were at the kitchen table as Trish finished preparing the meal. Harm had just taken his place when Trish turned around and started handing out the plates, each with a smoking steak on it.

"Mom?" Harm queried as his plate was placed in front of him.

"Swordfish, Darling. We stopped at the market on the way here from the airport," Trish explained, putting his objections to naught, "with a lemon-butter sauce, and new potatoes… with a fresh salad!" Trish finished triumphantly.

"Sounds good to me!" Harm agreed.

"Well it's all right, I suppose," Trish said doubtfully as she picked up her knife and fork, "but it's nothing much really, what Frank and I had in mind was to take you all out to dinner, to somewhere nice…maybe tomorrow?"

"Oh, Trish we can't," Jen said regretfully, "Plans have already been made for tomorrow. Harm and I are baby-sitting Sasha, while Loren gets taken out to dinner at Romano's by her latest beau."

"Latest, beau?" Trish asked with a delicately arched eyebrow, "Oh, do tell…"

"Jennifer Rabb! It's no such thing!" a furiously blushing Loren denied.

"Oh, Loren, how can you sit there, eating Trish's food and tell her such a bare-faced lie?" Jen exclaimed indignantly, while Harm and Frank grinned, and to a slightly lesser degree – her curiosity was almost killing her after all – so did Trish.

"It's not like that at all!" Loren still denied, "And you Jennifer Rabb are so going to pay for this!"

"You can't hit me, I'm pregnant!" Jen protested with a chuckle.

"I'll think of something!" Loren shot back at her, and glared furiously at the rest of the table who were now openly chuckling.

Loren's shoulders drooped, "Oh well if nothing else will do… You remember when Jen and I went up to Belleville and got stranded in that storm?"

Trish and Frank looked at each other and nodded. They would never forget the gut-wrenching fear that they had shared when they had been unable to get through to Jen and Loren on the road or through to Grams at Belleville.

"Well, while we were sheltering in the church, we met another naval officer, who happened to be one of Harm's old squadron buddies from his flying days. Neither Jen nor I recognised him at first, but it turned out he had been at the wedding party, but there were so many guys there that neither of us really caught their names… Anyway, he looked after us overnight and then when he got back to the DC area, Jen, unknown to me, invited him and another couple for dinner. We got to talking and eventually decided we could stand being friends with each other. Then just before he deployed he asked me out on a date, so we went for dinner and dancing. That's it. We've had one date, and one kiss – on the cheek! That hardly qualifies him as a beau!"

"Not unless you discount the five foot high Tuna Bear he sent Sasha, the mail bags full of multi-page handwritten letters – and these from a guy I happen to know hates paperwork. Oh, and also not forgetting the little detail that he arrives on leave tomorrow, and the first thing he does – in advance of his arrival - is arrange to take Loren to dinner at one of DC's top restaurants!" Harm made his contribution to the conversation.

"And not forgetting either that the looking after us that he did at the church was originally labelled 'interfering' by a certain young blonde lieutenant I know, and then when he came to dinner, I had to make sure the food was piping hot to insulate him from the blast of cold air that a certain blonde – the same blonde lieutenant incidentally – was giving off!" Jen finished her indictment.

Frank gave Loren a fleeting look of amused sympathy as she silently seethed, but then he looked across the table at Trish.

"I hate jumping on the band wagon, but even being as impartial as I can be; he certainly sounds like a beau to me!"

Trish nodded, "And quite a devoted one, if he weathered some of your wintry blasts, Loren!"

"But there is one thing I need to finally make up my mind," Frank qualified his judgement.

"And what's that?" Jen asked, her eyes dancing with laughter.

"I have just got to see this five feet high Tuna Bear!" Frank grinned.

Loren looked helplessly around the table at her tormentors, and then burst out laughing, "Oh, I'd forgotten how much fun you all are when you're together!"


	84. Teddy Bears and Picnics

**84  
>Teddy Bears and Picnics<strong>

Her back well supported by an assortment of pillows, Jen sat back in one of Loren's arm chairs, Sasha comfortably cradled in her arms. Harm had already collected all the items necessary for Sasha's comfort and well-being for her overnight stay, and all that remained was for him to return to carry Sasha from the ranch-house to the big house. In the meantime, Jen was more than happy to rock the gurgling infant in her arms while she waited for Loren to finish getting ready for her date with David.

The click of the door latch brought Jen's eyes from the infant in her arms to the door and her mouth dropped open and her eyes grew round, "Oh… wow…" she breathed as she took in the sight of Loren who had just entered the living room from the dog run that connected to the bed and bathroom suite.

"Wow," Jen repeated in admiration, "Poor Tuna doesn't stand a chance! I thought you looked fantastic in your blue dress, but this…"

Loren gave a shy smile, "You like?" she asked in a slightly nervous voice as she did a slow pirouette.

"No… I love… and so will Tuna… and that's a new dress!" Jen finished in an accusatory tone of voice.

"Yeah… well…" Loren's cheeks turned pink, but her eyes were alive with pleasure, "I thought as we were going to Romano's that a new outfit might be called for… and I haven't bought anything for myself since I found out I was pregnant and…"

"Hey! No need to defend yourself!" Jen chuckled, "I wasn't being condemnatory, I was being jealous!"

Loren seemed to relax slightly, "You really think I look okay?"

Jen shook her head, "No you don't look okay… you look fantastic, drop dead gorgeous. You've always had impeccable taste in clothes. Trust me, Loren; you are going to blow his socks off!"

Loren blushed a little more, she had fallen in love with the dark green silk dress the moment she had seen it. Okay, the price meant she'd be living off canned beans for the next six months, but just for this once, she couldn't resist the temptation. Of a shade the sales clerk had called bottle green, the dress was a simple, knee-length sheath, sleeveless with a scooped neckline that only just revealed a hint of cleavage. Loren had a pale green Brussels lace wrap draped over one arm and had tied her hair up in an elegant chignon that exaggerated the length of her neck, which she had left bare except for the gold locket which held a picture of Sasha, and the slender gold chain from which it hung. A pair of tiny diamond studs in gold mounts decorated her ear lobes and she wore simple black dancing pumps on her feet; the overall effect was one of elegant simplicity.

Jen continued to look warmly at Loren, "Yeah, knock 'em dead gorgeous… in fact I think I ought to order you back to your room before Harm comes back for Sasha!"

Loren's slight nervousness dissolved in a laugh, "Oh! That's going too far! Harm won't even notice me! Haven't you got it yet? When you're in the room the only person Harm sees is you!"

Jen's cheeks went slightly pink and she could feel the warmth, but she grinned and said, "That's better! Now that your eyes are laughing, Tuna is definitely a lost soul!"

Loren regarded Jen with mock-severity, "His name is David; he is not remotely like a fish!"

"No? What's the betting that when he sees you, his mouth will just open and close and his eyes will pop out of his head, exactly like a fish!"

"Oh! You're impossible when you get in this mood!" Loren laughed.

"Not just when she's in this mood!" Harm's voice came from the doorway.

"Yeah, but you love me anyway!" Jen said smiling up at him from the depths of her chair, while Loren half turned to smile a welcome at him.

Harm looked down at Jen and what she privately termed his 'sappy' smile, totally different to the reckless flyboy grin, slowly spread across his face, "Yeah, well, you got that right!" he agreed as he crossed the room to stand in front of her, bending at the knees to take Sasha from her.

Once Sasha was comfortably settled in the crook of his arm, he extended his other hand to let Jen pull herself to her feet and once she had risen he slipped his arm around as much of her as he could reach and smiled down into her eyes.

Loren's breath caught in her throat as she looked at what anyone else would have described as the perfect family, mom, dad, baby and a second one on the way. This was what she wanted for Sasha, and yes, for herself too, but more for Sasha, and for a moment she was assailed by doubt, wondering if the sort of happiness she was seeing was ever going to be on the cards for her and her daughter.

Her scrutiny, swift as it had been, hadn't passed unnoticed, and the smile slipped from Harm's face, "Is something wrong, Loren?" he asked gently.

Loren smiled and shook her head, "No… it was just a feeling… a bit like déjà vu, but in reverse…"

Jen forehead wrinkled in a frown, "Huh?" she asked.

"Oh, very eloquent! And very elegant!" Loren giggled, "Everything's fine, it's just that… only for a moment, mind you… that I felt I was looking at you and Harm a couple of years down the road with your own baby in your arms and another one on the way!"

Jen looked aghast at her and then burst into laughter, "Loren Singer! Go wash your mouth out with hot soapy water! Give me a chance to have this one at least before you start seeing me with another one!" she exclaimed over the sound of Sasha's gurgling, as the infant picked up on the amusement around her.

"Hey, I did say it was a couple of years ahead!" Loren chuckled, "And it made a hell of a cute picture!"

"Umm… no more than you do, Loren," Harm interjected, becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the topic of conversation.

Jen looked up at him, almost as surprised at his reaction as she had been at Loren's disclosure, "Harmon Rabb! Is that the best you can do? Loren doesn't look 'cute'! She looks, gorgeous, majestic, regal…"

"Okay, okay I get the picture," Harm grinned, relieved at the change of subject. "And you're right, she looks pretty damn good!"

"See, Jen? What did I tell you?" Loren grinned.

Jen looked critically at the blonde for a few seconds and then up at her husband, "Yeah… I'm beginning to see what you mean!" she smiled.

"What? What?" Harm asked.

Loren smiled smugly, "That, Mister Rabb, is need to know."

"And for the moment," Jen added with a wicked grin, "You don't need to!"

Harm shook his head in wry amusement, "Do you two realise just how much that gets to me?" he complained.

Loren and Jen looked at each other, and an identical naughty-girl grins spread across their faces, "Oh, yeah!" they chorused.

"Dammit! Do you two practice that while I'm not around?"

"Nope," Loren denied the accusation.

"It just comes naturally!" Jen corroborated the blonde's denial.

Harm looked as if he was about to say something when the expected knock at the door came. Loren swiftly crossed the room and opened the door, "Goodbye Jen, Harm!"

Jen twinkled up at Harm, "I can recognise a hint when I'm given one!" she said.

"And I know when I'm being kicked out of a place!" Harm agreed, and then turned to the child in his arms, "Come on Sasha, say 'goodnight' to mommy!"

Loren gave Sasha a kiss on the forehead and with a "Goodnight precious, be good for Harm and Jen, okay?"

Sasha looked up at her mommy and gurgled.

"I'll take that as a 'yes, mommy', shall I?" Loren smiled and stood back.

Harm and Jen smiled their goodnights and stepped through the doorway, Jen smiling a welcome at David, while Harm greeted him, "Hey, Tuna, good to see you!" he grinned at the sight of the bouquet in Tuna's hand.

David Medwick smiled back at the couple, but his attention for the moment was all on Sasha, "Wow… she's grown so much…" he breathed.

"Yeah, she's an absolute, total angel," Jen agreed, "but you'd best get inside and say 'hi' to her mommy, before she gets jealous!"

David nodded and slipped through the door, getting his first look at Loren. If he had been rendered speechless by the sight of her on their first date, he was now thunderstruck and he stood, helplessly staring at her, his expression so similar to the one forecast by Jen that Loren couldn't prevent a giggle escaping, even as she blushed with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure under his amazed and admiring stare.

"Did I… did I do some… something funny?" David stuttered.

Loren shook her head, "No… not really… I was just recalling something Jen said earlier," she smiled and then taking pity on him, she rapidly changed the subject, "Are those for me?" she asked almost coquettishly, arching an eyebrow at the bouquet that David had almost forgotten he was holding.

"Uh… yeah… I wasn't sure what to get… and just roses were a bit too… so I hope you like them?" he added somewhat lamely as he offered the mixed bouquet of freesias, statice and spray chrysanthemums which made a colourful background for the single white rose in the centre of the bouquet.

"They're beautiful," Loren breathed. "Let me just put them in water and I'm ready."

David fidgeted nervously for the two minutes it took Loren to return to the living room, the flowers now safely bestowed in a crystal vase which she placed on the occasional table. "I'll figure out the best place for them later," she assured him with a smile and stooping to pick up her wrap from the arm of the couch, she draped it over her shoulders and picked up her purse, "But for now, Mister Medwick, I'm all yours!"

David said nothing and allowed himself a slight smile, but he thought 'Oh, how I wish that was true!'

**lxxxiv-lxxxiv-lxxxiv-lxxxiv-lxxxiv**

Harm finished erecting the playpen he'd transferred from the ranch house and smoothed out the padded mat that formed its floor before he took Sasha from Jen and gently placed the infant on the mat and then once he was sure that Sasha was comfortable he placed the activity centre so that she could see herself in the mirror and so that the differently textured fish, birds, butterflies and the giraffe were all within reach of her grasping hands.

Grinning as Sasha squirmed on the mat and smiled up at her own reflection, Harm sank onto the couch next to Jen, his arm automatically going around her shoulder as she snuggled into his side. "Not long now, sweetheart."

"Not long?" Jen said in disbelief, "Three damn months still to go!"

"Hey that's not long," Harm objected.

"That's easy for you to say!" Jen retorted, "You're not the one carrying around an extra thirty pounds!"

"True, I'm not… but you're the one who looks absolutely beautiful while you're doing it!"

Jen craned away from Harm a little and gave a crow of laughter, "Oh! Nice recovery, mister! But you're not entirely acquitted!"

"In that case, I shall remove my person from any danger of physical retaliation and make a start on dinner!" Harm answered getting reluctantly to his feet.

"Do you want a hand?" Jen asked.

"No! Uh… no, no thanks, I've got it covered, why don't you just sit there and have a rest? And that way you can keep an eye on Sasha too!" Harm answered, hoping that Jen hadn't picked up on his slightly too emphatic refusal of her assistance.

His hope was in vain, Jen narrowed her eyes and stared at him suspiciously, "Just what are you up to Harmon Rabb?"

"Me? Nothing! Nothing at all!" Harm protested in wide-eyed innocence which spectacularly failed to convince Jen, but his bacon was saved by the sound of a knocking at the front door.

"Perhaps you could get that, sweetheart?" Harm suggested as he ducked back into the kitchen.

"H'mph!" Jen snorted as she hauled herself to her feet and made her stately way across the living room and out into the front hall.

"Trish! Frank! Hi! We weren't expecting you! Were we?"

"Probably not, darling!" Trish admitted as she stepped forward to give Jen a hug and a kiss on the cheek, "But when Frank learned that you were having Sasha to stay over, he couldn't resist coming to see her! You know how much he dotes on her!"

"All lies!" Frank said cheerfully as he stepped through the doorway, "It was entirely Trish's idea!"

"Don't listen to him darling!" Trish gurgled, "Typical man, all wickedness and untruths…. Why don't we head on through to the living room, and get you comfortable again…" she took Jen's elbow in a firm grasp and led her inexorably away, her head craned back over her shoulder to see Frank, who had closed the front door and was crossing the hall with a Cheshire-Cat type grin on his face.

"Harm!" Jen called out, "Your mom and Frank…"

Harm shot out of the kitchen like a Jack-in-the-Box, wiping his hands on a dish-towel and with surprise writ large on his face, "Mom… Frank… What…?"

"They say they've come to visit with Sasha!" Jen explained in a still-not-wholly-satisfied-with-the-explanation-to ne as she allowed herself to be led to the couch by Trish.

Harm dived back into the kitchen to turn off the two burners before he went out into the hall to find Frank, a huge grin of satisfaction on his face, as he said, "Hi, Harm, your Mom's taken Jen into the lounge!"

"Uh… Hi… we… were just about to… uh… have you eaten?"

"Yes, we dined at the hotel… but you and Jen?"

"Umm… no, I was a bit late home tonight and…"

"Well, don't mind us! You and Jen go ahead…" his grin grew broader, "It will give Trish and I more of a chance to play with Sasha!" he finished just as he and Harm entered the lounge.

"What will, darling?" Trish asked from the couch where she had already retrieved Sasha from her playpen and held the lively, squirming baby in her practiced arms.

"It's just that Jen and I haven't eaten yet," Harm said in exasperated tones to his roguishly smiling parent, and then switching his attention to Jen, smiled apologetically, "Change of menu. I'll knock us up a couple of omelettes, and I'll give you a shout!"

"No need!" Jen said holding out a hand for him to help her to her feet, "I'll come with you and shred some salad!"

Once in the kitchen Jen tore the salad leaves with a good deal of energy while Harm beat the eggs and grated the cheese, "Uh… something you want to get off your chest?" he inquired mildly.

Jen paused with a bunch of roquette in her hand, "Harm, please don't take this the wrong way, I love your Mom and Frank, but I don't want them to get onto the habit of making unannounced visits. Okay, there was no real harm done tonight, but what if we'd had plans, what if it had been Saturday and we were having our dinner party? Oh, we would have managed somehow, but…"

Harm frowned, it didn't like to admit it but, "No, you're right. I think it's partly because we live so far apart from each other that they haven't really gotten accustomed to us being a couple, so …"

Jen nodded, "I guess… but even if we lived next door to them, I'd still like some notice of a visit! I mean, they could have told us last night that they were coming over again this evening – or better yet, they could have asked if it was convenient!"

Harm nodded, acknowledging the justice of Jen's complaint, "True again." He heaved a sigh, "Okay… I'll try to find the right moment to have a tactful word with them."

Jen gave him a fulminating glance, "Just make sure it isn't so tactful and obtuse that they don't get the message!"

Harm tipped Jen's omelette onto a plate and put it on the kitchen table, "Here, don't wait for me. Eat up before it gets cold!" and then poured the remainder of the eggs into the pan to cook his own omelette.

By the time she'd eaten her omelette and drank her sparkling cider Jen's sunny nature had begun to reassert itself, so it was with a fair degree of equanimity that she was able to re-join Trish, Frank and Sasha in the lounge, while Harm hastily piled the dishes in the sink and turned his attention to brewing a jug of coffee.

The pouring of the coffee was necessarily delayed while Harm extricated a happily gurgling Sasha from Frank's clutches and gently laid her down on her play-mat, once again making sure that the various pieces of her activity centre were within her grasp.

"She's grown so much!" Trish said admiringly.

"Yeah, Mom, babies do that, I'm told," Harm said dryly.

"And she's so beautiful; takes after her Mommy, I guess," Frank added.

By now Harm's personal radar had picked up on a slight undercurrent of tension flowing from Trish and Frank, "Okay… what's going on? This isn't just a social visit is it?"

"Oh it's a social visit!" Trish protested, her coffee cup halfway to her mouth.

"But you're right" Frank half-contradicted his wife, "It's not just a social visit, and I apologise for the unexpected call, I know it must be inconvenient. I had expected to be in DC for another twenty-four, maybe forty-eight hours. But we wrapped up earlier this afternoon, so we're headed back to the West Coast tomorrow, and the only flight we could get at short notice was for early in the morning – well, early by our standards. We have to be at Dulles for nine o'clock. So we came to say goodbye but also to make plans for the future."

"The future?" Jen asked cautiously.

"Yes, darling," Trish smiled, "Your due date is just before Christmas, isn't it?"

"Uh… yes… around December twenty-first," Jen agreed.

"And you'll be on maternity leave from…?"

"Uh… two weeks before that… so that would be from December seventh…"

Frank dug onto his pocket and brought out his diary, "December seventh… is a Sunday, so would it be fair to say that you would start your leave after the end of the day on Friday, December fifth?"

"I guess…" Jen said after she received a confirmatory nod from Harm.

"Well, then, Frank and I have decided that we won't have our normal Christmas in La Jolla, but we'll come back east for those couple of weeks before Christmas and head back to California for New Year's instead. Well, I will; Frank'll have to stay out west until a couple of days before you're due. That is, if you're okay with the idea. We thought you might appreciate a little help on the run up, and then if Harm gets sent out-of-town…"

"Yes, and from what I hear it will be good for you to have another female around…"

"That's… that's a very kind thought…" Jen began, "but it's not necessary… I have a couple of very good female friends who…"

"Who no doubt will have their own families to concern them over that period!" Trish said firmly, "and I'm pretty sure that you're counting Loren in that number. Loren is a lovely girl, but she'll be facing her first Christmas as a single Mom, and you mark my words, sweetheart, at that time of the year all the usual baby-sitting resources will be booked up weeks in advance, and you won't be in any condition to help out… and I wouldn't mind betting that apart from the child-minder, you are Loren's primary baby-sitter!"

"Well, yes, but…"

"But nothing! When it comes to that time, if Loren needs to go out, she'll have to take Sasha with her, and you know that will make her time away longer than normal, but if I'm here, Loren can make a quick dash to the shops, or even take the time to enjoy a social evening, and don't try to tell me there won't be Christmas Balls, or parties that she'd like to attend!"

"That depends on whether David will be back from deployment. I'd say!" Jen replied, throwing in the towel, "All right, you know you're more than welcome, and I… we'll make the necessary arrangements for you to come out to us about the seventh, okay?"

"Whatever you say, sweetheart," Trish said obediently, drawing a laugh from both Harm and Jen.

"Besides," Frank added, "Did you really think you could keep Trish away when her first grandchild was being born?"

"No… I guess not," Jen conceded.

**lxxxiv-lxxxiv-lxxxiv-lxxxiv-lxxxiv**

Perhaps fortunately for future familial harmony Trish and Frank stayed only long enough for Frank to give Sasha her feed, expressing surprise at the ease with which she took the two spoonfuls of puréed vegetables before he offered her the more familiar bottle, and for Trish to change her. Once Sasha had been made comfortable, Jen put her back in her playpen and the four adults sat talking quietly, Jen explaining "It's a new idea that Loren found somewhere, that if you delay putting a baby down after its last feed, it will sleep better, and gets rid of the idea that it has to be fed before it can sleep. Apparently it's an aid to getting the child to sleep through the night, and that if it does wake up, it won't expect to be fed and will go back to sleep of its own accord…"

"And does it work?" Trish asked sceptically.

Jen grinned and shrugged, "I don't know… this is the first time we've had Sasha overnight since Loren briefed us… but look at her she seems quite happy on her play-mat – that giraffe fascinates her!"

"Not as much as that bear!" Frank chuckled. "She was absolutely mesmerised by it last night when Loren took us down to the ranch-house! And I don't blame her. I've never seen a stuffed toy that big. It certainly didn't come from any Build-a-Bear franchise, and it must have cost David a fortune!"

"Well, I haven't spoken to Tuna about it," Harm confessed, "But I understand he bought the bear in Italy while he was on shore-leave, and I strongly suspect he had help on-board with the flight suit – that's the genuine article that's been tailored to the bear, but the Lord knows where he got a helmet big enough to fit that monstrosity! I will have to ask him though!"

"The thought's just occurred to me," said Trish who had continued to watch Sasha interact with the giraffe, "That both the bear and the giraffe are taller than she is, and the only other taller beings she's had contact with have been people, I think she's wondering why these two don't tickle her and play with her and laugh at her!"

Jen and Harm exchanged a startled glance and each was forced to instantly look away for fear that they'd burst out laughing, but Trish had seen and correctly interpreted their glances and said with pretended indignation, "You may laugh! But smart as you are, you youngsters still have a lot of learning to do!"

"Yes, Mom," Harm managed humbly, while the most Jen could muster up was a nod as she bit her lip to keep her laughter under control.

It wasn't too long though before Sasha started to quieten down and stop wriggling quite so energetically, and a couple of baby-sized yawns later brought Harm to his feet to take the drowsy infant upstairs to her porta crib, while Frank and Trish trooped after him to say goodnight to the infant.

On their return downstairs Trish and Frank made getting ready to leave motions, and after a round of hugs, kisses and handshakes, Jen and Trish saw them to the door and stood, backlit by the hall light, their arms around each other's waist as Frank backed the rental Chrysler out of the drive and turned right to head for central Washington.

Jen and Harm spent very little more time in clearing away the wreckage in the kitchen and making their way up to their own bed, so by the time David Medwick's rental Chevrolet Impala drew to a gentle halt in front of the house, it, together with the rest of the street was shrouded in darkness.

David climbed out of the car, and Loren having learned her lesson from their previous date sat quietly until he had rounded the front of the vehicle, opened here door for her and extended a support hand as she swung her legs primly to the side and stood up. Pressing the fob, David locked the car and slipping his arm around Loren's waist to allow her to rest her head on his shoulder as they walked up the path to the wicket gate at the side of the house and then down the side of the back yard to the door to the ranch-house.

There, Loren slipped her arm from around David's waist and turned to face him, her eyes shining in the glow of the motion sensor activated security light above the door and her lip slightly parted.

"You are spoiling me, David Medwick!" she told him with a deeply appreciative smile, "Dinner and dancing at Romano's, anybody would think we were dating!"

David took a deep breath and then took the plunge, "Well we are!" he said.

Loren's smile faded and her eyes searched his face, "Yes, I know we are… well… we've had two dates… and if you were to ask me again, then I'd probably say yes again. But David… we agreed that we would be friends, and yes, I like you, and I enjoy your company, but don't ask me for anything more, not yet, anyway."

A warm glow sprang to life in David's eyes, and if he felt any disappointment he made a damn good job of hiding it, "No, I have no intention of asking for anything more – yet. But I make no promises about my future conduct!"

"Should I worry?" Loren teased gently, relieved that David had taken her reiteration of the rules so well.

"Not yet. I'll give you fair warning when you need to ramp up your DefCon!" David grinned, "But for the present, you said you'd probably say yes if I asked for another date, so how about a Labour Day picnic, you, me and Sasha?"

Loren smiled back, "Yes, I'd like that… but how about I take you to the JAG picnic, here in Falls Church?"

"Are you sure you're ready for that?" David asked seriously. "You know everybody will assume that we're romantically involved!"

"No… I'm not sure, but let them think what the hell they want!" Loren finished defiantly.

"Okay… then it's a date! What time should I pick you up?"

"Umm… make it midday, and we'll take my car – it's got Sasha's baby-seat fitted and her travelling bag already loaded in the trunk."

"Okay, midday it is!" David stepped back and made to let go of Loren's hands, hands that she hadn't even realised he'd been gently holding, and before he could turn away, she grasped his hands more firmly and raising on tiptoes, she kissed him gently, just once, on the corner of his mouth.

"Good night, David," she breathed before she dropped back on her heels.

"Goodnight, Loren," he smiled, and waiting until she had retreated into her house and closed the door behind her, he wore a broad grin as he walked slowly back up the yard, "You might say you just want to be friends, Loren Rabb, but are you trying to fool yourself? Because you aren't fooling me. Not in the slightest. That kiss just blew a damn great hole in your story!"

**lxxxiv-lxxxiv-lxxxiv-lxxxiv-lxxxiv**

"So… I'm doomed…" Jen said glumly as she cradled her cup of tea.

"I thought you liked your mother in law?" Angela said around a mouthful of jelly doughnut. "M'mm… these are good! Want one?"

"No, no thanks, I'm trying not to put on too much weight, the OB says the more I put on during pregnancy, the harder it is to come off – and my centre of gravity is way off as it is! Yes, I do like Trish, but I wish she wasn't quite so…quite so…"

"Well, your loss is my gain," Angela said as she helped herself to another doughnut, "Pushy?"

"No, not pushy and you should watch your sugar intake!" Jen scolded her friend.

Angela drained her cup of coffee and swallowed the last of her doughnut, "Hey, I'm not the one who needs help getting out of her chair!" she teased Jen.

"Not every time!" Jen denied as she pushed herself to her feet, while Angela, despite her teasing words stood ready with a supporting hand should it be needed.

"Come on super-mom… let's get back to it before Commander Manetti sends a search party out for us!"

"Super-mom?" Jen queried as she made her way with stately dignity down the hall, "You are so going to pay for that, Angela Hartmann!"

"Yeah? You're going to have to catch me first!" Angela quipped as she skipped out of Jen's reach.

"And I will… one day!" Jen puffed.

**lxxxiv-lxxxiv-lxxxiv-lxxxiv-lxxxiv**

Admiral A J Chegwidden glared around the conference table. "Just a reminder – not that you should need it, but this weekend is Labour Day weekend, which means Monday is a holiday, which in turn means that when you turn to on Tuesday, we will be back in winter uniform. So for the first week it will be service dress for all hands, a decision will then be made as to whether the enlisted members stay in service dress or change into the Johnny Cash uniforms. Officers will, of course, remain in service dress. Now… I understand the Lindsey court-martial opens first thing Tuesday morning?"

"Yes, sir!" Babs Saunders replied.

"Good, Commander Baxter, are you all set – finally?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Right, moving on. Commander Rabb… the Farmer case?"

"Just waiting confirmation of the forensics and the autopsy report, sir, but there's very little doubt that Farmer acted in self-defence when BM Three Oliver indecently assaulted and then physically assaulted her and that he fell overboard due to his intoxication, rather than was pushed overboard."

Chegwidden nodded, "Mister Roberts?"

"In court today, sir, the Markham UA and then the Porter DDO. Miss Fairchild defending both!"

Chegwidden gave the newly arrived Lieutenant a sharp look, "Don't let Lieutenant Roberts' bumbling manner fool you Lieutenant, he's sharper than he seems at first sight!"

"No, sir!" Lieutenant Elizabeth Fairchild replied. She had already noted that Bud's somewhat sleepy exterior concealed a sharp legal brain.

"Commander Imes, Lieutenant Rabb?" Chegwidden switched his attention to Carolyn and Loren.

"Still ploughing through the hazing Marines, sir. It was a pretty good day in court yesterday, but there's a lot of evidence still to hear…" Carolyn offered.

"What's your take, Commander?" Chegwidden asked Alan Mattoni.

The defence counsel for the court-martial pulled a face, "It won't finish today, or tomorrow, sir. Most likely it will take another two to three days next week!"

"Very well. Now just a reminder that the JAG picnic and touch football game is on for Monday at twelve thirty hours in Roberts Park, so a reminder about considerate parking in that area is called for. Attendance is not mandatory, but if there is any officer who doesn't wish to attend, I am sure that there are personnel on duty who would be glad to go and more than willing to swap out their assignments for that day! Is there anything else? No? Good! Dismissed!"

The crowd of officers straggled back towards the bull pen and Carolyn took the opportunity to whisper to Loren, "Are you okay? You look a little off?"

Loren smiled, "I'm fine, just a little tired."

"Ah," Carolyn said as she thought she identified the reason, "Is Sasha still not sleeping through the night?"

Loren decided to let Carolyn labour under a misapprehension while she could do so without telling an outright lie, "Mostly, yes, she does these days, but she still has her moments!"

"Ouch!" Carolyn replied.


	85. Wives and Mothers

**Chapter 85  
>Wives and Mothers<strong>

Jen made a determined effort to push her worries into a box, and although she was her normal, efficient self, Commander Tracy Manetti noticed that the imp of laughter, as she termed it, that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her Legalman's face had suddenly gone UA.

Slightly concerned with the change in Jen's demeanour, she took advantage of one of Jen's evermore frequent bathroom breaks to speak with Angela. "Coats doesn't seem quite herself today, Personnelman Two?" she said, the rising inflexion of her voice making a statement into a question.

Angela bit her bottom lip and hesitated slightly before answering "In what way, ma'am?"

"She seems a bit… subdued, maybe?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Any ideas as to the cause, Personnelman Two?"

Angela gave an anxious glance at the door, hoping that Jen's return would save her from having to answer, but no such luck! "I believe it's in-law trouble, ma'am."

Tracy nodded, perversely relieved that Jen's problem wasn't work related, "Long lasting?" she queried.

Angela thought for a moment, "I don't think so, ma'am. You know Coates; she's nothing if not forthright. I reckon that once she's figured out the best way to deal with the problem, she won't hang about."

Tracy smiled as she remembered one or two examples of Jen's forthrightness, "Let's hope you're right, Personnelman Two, it's just not the same around here without Coates' smile!"

Tracy Manetti's observations had a knock-on effect as at lunch-time, Angela hustled Jen into the women's room, and after making sure they were alone turned on the mystified Legalman and hissed, "Jen, you've get to get it together! The commander was asking earlier what was wrong with you! I played dumb for as long as I could, but… and you know what will happen if they think you're losing focus!"

"But I'm not!" Jen protested, "there's nothing wrong with my work!"

"I know, I know, but if they see a change in attitude they'll assume your work's suffering, and your next fitrep will take a nose-dive!"

Jen was silent for a long moment. Then she nodded, "You're right! I'll make an effort to try to get over it – after lunch!"

"Hungry?" Angela grinned, relieved that she had gotten her message across so painlessly.

"Of course! But only for the healthier things in life!"

**lxxxv-lxxxv-lxxxv-lxxxv-lxxxv**

Harm looked up from the file in front of him and across the desk at Loren, "Sorry to take up half your lunch hour, but I think that's the last of it, except for a gross error check, and I guess I can handle that on my own! It was too bad that you got dragged into this whole mess!"

Loren grinned sympathetically, "I wouldn't mind so much, but I get the feeling that we are the only two out of all involved who have had quite so much crap dumped on them!"

Harm grinned sardonically, "Welcome to my world, Loren!"

Loren nodded thoughtfully, "Yeah… I seem to remember hearing some scuttlebutt after Bud was injured and you and Mac both disobeyed orders that it was you that got chewed out the most!" She paused, "Has that been the pattern all the time you've been here?"

Harm thought briefly, "Yeah… I guess it has… well, at least when it comes to me and Mac… But, you've got to remember that the Admiral went out on a limb for Jen and me too…"

Loren nodded, her eyes clouding as she contemplated just what the Admiral could have done, "That's true, he could have made life very difficult for you…"

"Difficult? Loren, you are acquiring the habit of masterly understatement!" Harm grinned.

Loren stood, a smile on her face, as she smoothed her skirt, "Well on that happy note, I must love you and leave you, before Carolyn comes to drag me back to the court room!"

"Yeah, good luck!" Harm wished her.

"You too!" Loren replied with a significant nod at the budget file.

Harm worked on the budget for a further hour and a half before he decided that he could do no more and closing the folder he stood, picked it up and tucked it under his arm before crossing the bull pen towards the Admiral's office.

"Afternoon, Tiner. Could you let the Admiral know that I have the budget proposal for him, please?"

"Yes, sir!" Tiner pressed the intercom unit's call button and waited.

"_Yes, Tiner_?"

"Admiral, Commander Rabb is here, with the budget proposal."

"_Fine. Thank you, take it off him and keep hold of it for me, please_!"

"Yes, sir!"

Harm handed the folder to Tiner and wandered back to his office, suffused with a feeling of relief that the onerous task the admiral had dumped on him was finally complete.

Tiner watched him go, and with a puzzled frown on his face turned to stare at the Admiral's office door and wondered what his chief was up to, the budget proposal had been sent to the finance department of the DoN last week.

**lxxxv-lxxxv-lxxxv-lxxxv-lxxxv**

Jen's effort to change her mood did not go unremarked, but neither was it particularly successful, and at secure Commander Manetti intercepted her Legalman as she and Angela made their slow way along the maze of hallways to the exit, "Walk with me, Legalman One," she invited, with a look at Angela who correctly interpreted it to mean that Tracy wanted privacy.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Jen!" she smiled, and then added, "Goodnight, ma'am!" to Tracy.

"Goodnight, Personnelman Two!"

Tracy adjusted her normally brisk pace to Jen's temporarily slower mode of progress and waited until Angela had forged ahead out of earshot before she spoke, "Is everything all right, Legalman One? You seem a bit… subdued today, maybe not quite up to your usual game… Nothing wrong with the baby, I hope?"

"Oh, no, ma'am, she and I are doing just fine. The physical side of life couldn't be better, just a minor glitch or two on the political side. But I hope to get it sorted out this evening, and I won't let it affect my work again!"

"Don't worry, it hasn't affected your work, this is the voice of concern, not a reaming out!" Tracey smiled, "I just wanted to know you're okay… and maybe help if I could?"

Jen smiled, "Thanks for offering, ma'am, but this is something that Harm and I have to work out…" a dreadful thought crossed her mind and her smile vanished, "You… uh… you haven't mentioned this to him, have you ma'am?"

"Me? No! I had no idea, and I still don't, of what the problem is, and although I like to think of your husband as a friend, you are one of my staff, and whatever we might discuss stays between you and me!"

"Thank you for that, ma'am," Jen said, her smile now reflecting her relief, "You first, ma'am," she offered as they passed through the swing doors that led to the MP manned CP, which effectively put an end to their conversation.

**lxxxv-lxxxv-lxxxv-lxxxv-lxxxv**

Jen's apparent distraction throughout the day was indeed the result of the bombshell Trish had burst. It wasn't that she disliked Trish, quit the contrary, but she did dislike the way Trish seemed to be bulldozing her way into her and Harm's life and home. What made it worse, in a way, was that Jen had decided to talk to Harm about inviting Trish and Frank to stay for a couple of weeks to cover her due date and Christmas, and it was particularly galling that Trish had more or less thrust herself onto them without anything other than a perfunctory 'if it's okay with you', knowing full well that Jen would have been unable to object in front of Harm in Trish's presence.

But mulling over the situation during the course of the day she had come to the conclusion that with only half her attention on her work, that sooner or later she was going to make a mistake, or miss a deadline, and either of those scenarios would be intolerable, almost as intolerable as sitting back and letting events, as planned – or rather ordained – by Trish take their course.

She'd managed to push her concerns firmly to the back of her mind as she drove the Sebring back to Annandale Road; although not as tricky as driving in central DC for example, evening crush hour anywhere within the beltway was not the time nor place to let herself worry about anything other than driving!

Pulling onto the driveway she marked the absence of the Lexus and not for the first time, she wondered, with a half-smile and a baffled shake of her head, how it was, that with both of them working roughly the same office hours, and with Harm having far less distance to travel to and from the office she almost invariably ended up getting home before him. Still, the twenty or so minute start she had on him usually allowed her to jump into the shower and change into something more comfortable than uniform.

'But' she reflected as she almost rolled out of the car, 'tonight I don't want a shower!" Tonight she wanted to soak on warm, scented water – hot water wasn't good for the baby Doctor Robbins had cautioned her, and so it was with a dreamy smile she puffed her way upstairs and stripping out of her uniform she stood, naked for a moment, and wiggled her toes in the softness of her bedside rug, while she gravely contemplated her reflection in the three-quarter length mirror on the inside of her closet door.

Deciding that she didn't look like a beached whale after all, well, not quite and not yet, she snagged Harm's bath robe from the back of the connecting door to the bathroom, and pouring a generous handful of lavender bath salts into the bath she turned on the faucets and cautiously adjusted the flow until the water was at the right temperature, mixing the water vigorously until the bath salts had dissolved. Then with temperature and water level to her satisfaction, she hastily pinned her hair up on the crown of her head and gingerly lowered herself into the water, then placing a three-times-folded towel on the rim of the bath, she laid her head back against it with a sigh of gratification and closed her eyes breathing in the scented steam.

**lxxxv-lxxxv-lxxxv-lxxxv-lxxxv**

Harm pulled the Lexus into its usual parking slot alongside Jen's Sebring, where he and Loren dismounted from the vehicle and he walked around to the rear, opened the hatch and pulled out the first two sacks of groceries before carrying them to the front door, where Loren gently took his keys from between his teeth and opened the door for him before she grinned and flitted off to the ranch-house, with a cheerful "Gotta rush before I get billed for an extra shift!"

"Yeah, see you later?" Harm asked as he backed in through the door.

"Maybe!" Loren called back over her shoulder as she scurried around the corner of the house.

Harm made his way into the kitchen where he gratefully deposited the groceries on the kitchen table before turning around and returning to the Lexus for the other two sacks and it wasn't until he'd started stowing the groceries in their proper places that the realisation grew on him that he hadn't heard any movement from Jen. Forgetting the foodstuffs for a moment he grinned as the thought occurred to him that she might be drowsing on the living room couch, so quietly he left the kitchen and walked through into the living room to find a distinct absence of Jen on the couch, or indeed elsewhere in the room.

A frown puckered his forehead, "Jen?" he called out loud and listened for an answer.

"Up here! Can you come up?"

"Sure…" Harm replied and with a slight shrug he trotted up the stairs.

"In the bathroom!" Jen called out, but her voice sounded slightly strained? Stressed? No… neither of those, Harm thought, but… embarrassed? Yes, incredible as it seemed, Jen sounded embarrassed!

Opening the bathroom door he found Jen lying on her back in the tub, which had been emptied of water, and covered from collar bones to knees by a towel.

"Jen?" he asked incredulously.

"Hi…" Jen gave him a weak grin, "Could… could you give me a hand here?"

"To do what?" Harm queried.

"Um… don't you dare laugh… but I can't get up…"

Harm was torn between a sudden overwhelming urge to laugh, and his concern for Jen's well-being, "How long have you been in there?" he asked as he knelt by the side of the tub.

"What time is it?" Jen countered as she grabbed his offered forearm with both hands.

"About eighteen thirty…"

"In that case, about forty minutes," Jen confessed, "But that's from the time I got into the tub… it was about fifteen, maybe twenty minutes ago that I realised I couldn't get up… I don't know how I could be so dumb!"

"That's not important!" Harm told her, as Jen sat up and he slipped his free arm around her back, "Ready? Just hold tight, and I'll stand up, and bring you up with me! Okay? On the count of three… one… two… threeee!"

Despite the howls of protest from his abused back, Harm steadily rose to his feet, bringing Jen to a position where, with her torso vertical, she could get her feet under her and take her weight off Harm's arms.

"There you go," he grinned as they both stood, and he extended a hand to support her as she climbed out of the tub.

Jen stepped out onto the bath mat, "Thanks, sweetheart," she smiled and reaching up planted a kiss on the corner of his mouth, and then sighed.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I guess I'll have to stick to showers from now on…" she said despondently.

"Yeah… or at least make sure I'm home before you get in the tub!" Harm grinned.

"Hey, I said no laughing!" Jen objected as she drew Harm's bathrobe around her. Her own robe would no longer close around her bump. "And anyway, you can't keep pulling me out of the tub – don't tell me your back didn't feel that!" she warned him.

Harm stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her, giving her a slight hug, "If it comes to worrying about you, or worrying about my back, guess which comes out on top?"

Jen let her head drop back against Harm's broad chest and smiled, "Oh, I know, I know, but I just want my husband in one piece! After all, I have plans for him that don't include him being wheelchair bound by the time he's forty!"

"Plans, huh? Any chance you might want to let me on them?"

"M'mm… maybe, but not just yet!" Jen grinned.

"You're a cruel woman, Jennifer Rabb!" Harm complained.

"I know," Jennifer replied complacently, "but how about you get out of that uniform, and then…."

"And then what?" Harm asked huskily.

Jen broke free of his lightly encircling arms, "And then make a start on a dinner!" she laughed.

"Oh, that_ is_ cruel!" Harm complained.

"Hey, hungry mom to be here!" Jen chuckled, "G'wan, get cracking!"

**lxxxv-lxxxv-lxxxv-lxxxv-lxxxv**

Jen scraped her spoon around the inside of her bowl, determined to scoop up the last vestiges of her rocky road ice cream and then licked the spoon clean, "Of all the things that could have been affected by being pregnant, I am so, so, glad that my taste in ice-cream didn't change!" she said happily.

Looking at the smile of pure pleasure on her face Harm shook his head fondly, "I noticed," he said dryly, "Now… if you're done scraping the pattern off your dish…?" he held out his hand expectantly.

"I was just thinking about whether or not to have another scoop, or two… or three…" Jen demurred.

"Yeah, good luck with that!" Harm retorted.

"You mean that was the last of it? You didn't buy anymore today?" Jen asked in dismay.

"Well, having bought a quart just last week, I hadn't expected that we… no, make that you…. would get through it quite so quickly!" Harm said in his defence.

"Oh, wow… I went through a whole quart in a week?" Jen asked but without the slightest sign of repentance.

"Not quite the whole quart, I did manage to have four scoops, if you include this evening's scrapings!"

"I let you have that much? Damn! I must be slipping!" Jen gurgled.

"Go, woman! Get outta here while I fix the drinks! Raspberry and Rose-hip okay for you?"

"Umm… I'd rather Jasmine, if we've got any?" Jen asked hopefully.

"Yeah, of course… and I think I'll join you!" harm grinned and he deposited the ice cream bowls in the sink.

Five minutes later Harm brought the tray through to the living room and he and Jen settled on the couch, each with their mug of tea. Jen drank about half her tea and then carefully placing the mug on a coaster on the coffee table, she straightened up and disengaging from harm's arm, she twisted slightly on the couch so she could look him more or less straight in the eye.

"Harm, we need to talk," she said quite seriously.

Harm looked at her in astonishment taking in her tone of voice, her expression and her body language, "Wow, where did that come from? Is this about the ice cream?" he asked.

"No, it's nothing to do with the ice cream, it's been building for the last twenty-four hours," Jen admitted.

"So… what's this all about?" Harm asked, as his bow creased in a puzzled frown.

"It's about Trish, I'm afraid," Jen said awkwardly.

"Mom? Why? What's she done?" Harm asked.

"Well, Trish and you. It's partly because you don't seem to see what she's done that I need to get this off my chest." Jen said firmly.

"What's she done that's so bad?" Harm asked defensively.

"It's the way she steam-rollered us last night. Please don't get this wrong, Harm. I love your mom, I really do. I can never forget how kind she's been to me, as well as to Loren and Sasha, but when she breezes in here without warning, the way she did last night, and then calmly announces that she's coming to stay for a couple of weeks, well… she's pushing just a little too hard…"

"Well, why in God's name, didn't you say something last night, while she was here?" Harm asked, honestly baffled, "She did ask if it was okay, and what do you expect me to do about it now it's a done deal?"

"Oh yeah, like I'm going to put you on the spot, by saying , no it wasn't okay, or getting into an argument with your mom right in front of you, or get into an argument with you in front of your mom!" Jen said indignantly.

"I still don't see the problem." Harm objected. "You said that you were going to ask her to come east and stay with us for a couple of weeks around your due date…"

"Exactly! I was going to invite Trish! I didn't expect her to invite herself! And as for telling her that last night? It just couldn't happen. It's like when they knocked on the door without our expecting them, what was I supposed to do? Tell them that they couldn't come in because we weren't expecting them? You'd have been really happy with that, wouldn't you?"

"Well, no of course not, but…"

"But nothing! As it happened, it wasn't too bad timing last night, but it could have been really inconvenient. We could have been heading on out to see a movie, or to Tim and Angela's, or we could have had friends over, or we could have been busy, or we could even have been making love, rolling naked on the rug. Would that have been okay?"

"No, of course not, but you can't want them to have to make an appointment every time they want to visit?"

"Not make an appointment, or ask for permission; of course not, but a phone call to give us a heads up wouldn't hurt!"

Harm shook his head, for the life of him, he couldn't understand why Jen was so upset, "You say you don't want then to ask permission, but you got upset when mom didn't ask permission to come and visit. Jen, you're not making any sense. And besides, we've never asked permission to go and visit them, or visit Grams…"

"Considering we've only been out to La Jolla once, and then they at least knew that you were coming, and we've always called Gramma to let her know we were coming to see her, negates your argument. I know we didn't ask permission, but the difference is, we gave them warning, and asked was it okay to visit… we didn't just turn up on their doorstep…"

"Uh… that's not quite true, Jen. I didn't give them any warning the weekend you and Loren went up to Belleville and I ended up flying to Miramar, I just turned up unannounced – and with an extra guest!"

"Yeah… but that's your parental home. Harm, it's a totally different dynamic. I can see where it didn't matter to you if they just showed up at the loft, but this – here it's different. This is our home, not just yours, and I felt, feel, as if we'd been invaded! Oh, I know that sounds overly dramatic, but I can't help feeling the way I do!"

Harm looked more carefully at Jen. He still couldn't understand why this was such a big deal to her, but he could see that it was. "So, what do you want me to do? Do you want me to call my mom and tell her that she's not welcome to visit with us the last couple of weeks before you're due? Jen, you're going to need someone with you, especially if I have to go out of town! Look at earlier this evening!"

"Of course I don't want you tell Trish that she's not to visit, but I just need you to support me on this and try to explain to her that in future she needs to propose these sorts of plans, rather than just dictate and impose them!"

"Is that how you feel, that she imposed herself on us?"

"No! You still don't get it, do you? I just want her to consult! Half the fun of making plans is making them together!"

"So... you want me to call her and say what?"

"Say that of course she's welcome. I do love her, truly, but a bit of… of… compromise in the future would avoid the necessity for these sorts of talks. Because, Harm, I haven't enjoyed this, not one little bit!"

Harm nodded, he still couldn't see why Jen was so upset, but… "Okay, I'll call her…" he rose from the couch and crossed to the desk at the end of the lounge, and sitting down, he reached for the phone.

**lxxxv-lxxxv-lxxxv-lxxxv-lxxxv**

Trish Burnett put the phone down and turned a troubled expression towards her husband, "I don't believe it… Harm just told me that we need to call ahead before we visit them in future…"

Frank looked up from the report he was reading and said mildly enough, "Oh…and what brought this on?"

Trish shook her head slightly, "I… I'm not sure… I'm still trying to take it in. But it seems that somehow we stepped on Jennifer's toes when we said that we would visit come Christmas..."

"She doesn't want us to visit?" asked Frank in some surprise.

"Oh, no… well, it seems that isn't the case… she wants us to visit, but she…"

"Ah!" Frank's mental light-bulb lit up, "She would prefer to have invited us, rather than just have you announced that we were coming?"

Trish nodded, "Yes, but I don't understand… I asked her if we could visit…"

"Um… no, actually, you didn't. You presented her with your plan, without any consultation, and then added a perfunctory 'if that's okay,' in front of Harm. It was a little pushy, sweetheart, and if you recall, that's not the way we had discussed the idea."

"But she could have said something at the time, instead of going behind our backs and complaining to Harm…"

"Well, no she couldn't. By presenting your plans like that in front of them both, almost like demands, you made it impossible for Jen to say no, and Harm couldn't have objected without completely undermining you, even if he had disagreed."

"Why would he have disagreed? He never has before! I meant it for the best! Jen will need somebody with her once she starts staying at home. It's all very well for her to say that Loren will help her. But Loren will be out of the house just as much as Harm! And what if Harm has to go flying off somewhere…?"

"Why would Harm have disagreed? Well, he isn't in his bachelor's apartment anymore, and I got the feeling that yes, they were surprised when we showed up without any warning last night, and they weren't too happy about it! Remember we did kind of burst in on them just as they were starting to get their dinner ready, and if you recall, Jen pretty soon joined Harm in the kitchen, and I have a suspicion it wasn't just to leave us with some quality time with Sasha. I reckon she had a pretty good vent there and then!"

Trish looked at him for a moment as if he had suddenly grown an extra head. "Oh... so even you think I was wrong?"

"Not wrong, my darling, but a little over eager, and maybe just a little too managing. Don't forget, Jennifer didn't have much of a home life until she married Harm, and they're still adjusting as a couple, so I wouldn't be surprised if she is defensive about her home and family. In fact, given how short a time they've known each other, I'm also a bit worried about what the arrival of this baby might do to their marriage…"

"Harm would never abandon Jen and the baby!" Trish fired up in defence of her son.

"Of course not!" Frank snapped back.

"He's far too much in love with Jen, and he's going to adore their baby!" Trish protested, almost on the point of tears.

"I know, I know…" Frank said reaching out his hand and taking Trish's in his grasp, "But honeymoon babies can lead to extra stress in a marriage! Don't forget that in the eyes of tradition Jen is still a bride! So, it might be worth considering backing off a little, giving them extra space to allow then to get their heads around all their changing circumstances and…"

"Being not quite so pushy?" Trish finished for him.

"Just so," Frank agreed gravely.

"It's going to be hard," Trish said mournfully, "I just want to help, like any mom would!"

Frank smiled sympathetically, even while he considered Trish's pout to be absolutely adorable, "I know that too," he said gently, "but you've got to learn to let go… at least until the baby arrives – and then what's the betting that they'll both grab for all the help they can get!" he finished with abroad grin.

"They can reach for all the help they like, but they won't get it from me!" Trish declared, the light of battle in her eyes.

Frank looked at her, his grin still in place, "Yes, they will. You won't be able to help yourself!"

Trish bristled for a moment and then her shoulders drooped as she relaxed, "Oh… damn you, Frank Burnett! You know me too well!" she complained with a half-smile.

Frank gathered her into his arms, "And love you even more than that!" he murmured into her sweet-smelling hair.

**lxxxv-lxxxv-lxxxv-lxxxv-lxxxv**

Jen sat propped against her pillows and looked at Harm in concern as he towelled his hair dry after his shower. He had been quiet, almost subdued after his phone call to La Jolla. Not curt with her, or with any manifestations of temper, just… quiet.

With a sigh she pulled the covers down until they rested on her legs and reached for the tub of moisturising cream on her nightstand, and pulling her t-shirt – one of the many she had 'liberated' from Harm's closet – up to just below her breasts, she scooped a blob of the cream out of the tub and began to work it gently into the skin of her stomach, conscious of Harm sliding under the covers as the mattress shifted under his weight.

Jen wasn't sure whether she was surprised or not as Harm's large hand came across and resting for a few moments on her stomach gently began to massage the cream into her skin. His massage had become a nightly ritual, but this evening, due to his withdrawal she wasn't sure that he would join in.

She let him rub her bump in silence for a couple of minutes before she asked diffidently, "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

Harm nodded, "Not quite, but I will be…"

"I'm sorry sweetheart, please don't hate me, but I couldn't just let it ride…"

Harm leaned closer and kissed her, "I don't hate you, Jen. I could never hate you; it's me I don't like much right now."

"Why not? You haven't done anything wrong," Jen protested.

"Um... yeah, I have. First off, I should have picked up on your mood when you came into the kitchen last night and tore into those salad leaves, and then I should have spoken up when Mom laid down her plans… And then this evening, when I called her, I could tell I hurt her. And I've hurt her too much in the past, and I swore I would never hurt her again…"

"Oh Harm," Jen took hold of his wrist, arresting the movement of his hand, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to put you into such an awkward position…"

"You have nothing to apologise for, sweetheart. I should have been more alert in the first place, and then maybe we could have avoided all this awkwardness. I just hope it doesn't take too long to mend fences with Mom and Frank!" He began to move his hand in soothing circles over her bump again.

"She'll forgive you soon enough, sweetheart, she's your Mom, it's part of the job description."

"I hope you're right, Jen, I so hope you're right!" Harm said fervently.

'So do I, I wouldn't want to come between Harm and his mom for anything,' Jen thought, but remained silent to let both of them take comfort from the touch of skin on skin.


	86. Deception, Dinner and Diapers

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 86  
>Deception, Dinners and Diapers<strong>

Harm groaned silently as his alarm dragged him from the depths of sleep and reaching backwards with his right arm he hastily stifled it before the sound woke Jen. He could now turn his attention to extricating his left arm from beneath Jen's head without disturbing her as they lay spooned together in bed. Even moving as slowly and as stealthily as he could he wasn't slick enough to avoid a grumble from a half awake Jen as she rolled onto her back, but that did, at last allow him to free his trapped arm and quietly roll out of bed and then pad in his bare feet into the bathroom.

Emerging ten minutes later with a refreshed mouth and clad in tank top, gym shorts and sneakers, he paused by the side of the bed to stoop and place a feather-light kiss on Jen's forehead.

Three parts asleep as she was, Jen smiled sweetly, and turned back onto her side, her arms scooping his pillow into her stomach. With a smile, Harm slipped downstairs and opening the front door used the porch steps as an aid to stretching his calf and thigh muscles.

Five minutes later he was joined by a still bleary-eyed Loren pushing a well-wrapped and unimpressed appearing Sasha in her stroller. Loren, dressed in a t-shirt, shorts and sneakers cast him an unfriendly look as she joined him in his warm-up exercises.

"Why so Goddamned early?" she complained.

"Because I've got a busy day ahead of me… and I need some thinking time before I start taking any action!" Harm retorted.

Loren grunted with effort as she sank so that her bent left knee nearly touched her chin while her extended right protested, but her eyes were concerned as she looked sideways at Harm, "Something wrong?"

"No… nothing drastic… just a little bit of family politics to straighten out!"

"Ouch!" Loren exclaimed, but whether she over extended her hamstring or whether she was commenting on Harm's reply he wasn't entirely sure.

"You ready?" Harm asked Loren.

The blonde nodded, "But remember, I'm not at full fitness yet, this is supposed to get me ready for my PRT, not be the thing itself!"

Harm nodded, "Not to worry, we'll do that three-mile loop I showed you on the map and we'll finish back here, then I'll cut loose and finish my own run, okay?"

"Okay, and Harm… I really appreciate you helping me out. I know how seriously you take your running!" Loren smiled.

"Enough with the thanks already!" Harm grinned, although he warmed at them, "Ready? Let's go!"

Savouring the quiet and the comparative coolness of the start of the new day Harm and Loren – the latter pushing Sasha's stroller – padded down the pavement at what was to Harm little more than a dawdle, but was quite strenuous enough for Loren, who although she had started her physical workout regime a couple of weeks ago, still had a long way to go before she regained her pre-pregnancy fitness levels. Even so it was only twenty-six minutes later that they stopped in front of the house again, Harm breathing easily enough, while Loren, having applied the brakes on the stroller paced to and fro, her hands on her hips and breathing deeply.

"You okay?" Harm asked, receiving an emphatic nod of the head from Loren in answer and so with a cheerful, "See you for coffee!" he lit out for the second half of his morning exercise. Loren watched him go and shook her head; even at her fittest, she could never have hoped to keep up with Harmon Rabb when he started to really run.

"It's all because of those ridiculously long legs of his!" she said in a confidential whisper to Sasha, who in return stared solemnly up at her mother for long seconds, blew a big bubble and promptly closed her eyes again.

"Oh well," Loren laughed, "That's what I get for dragging you out before the birds start singing is it! Okay, then it's a nice warm bath for you, and then breakfast! Any better?"

Sasha's immediate happy gurgle brought a sharp look from her mother, "Sometimes, sweetheart, I get the feeling that you understand every word I say!" Loren shook her head and leaning over the top of the stroller so she could see Sasha's face she continued to talk nonsense to her daughter all the length of the back yard to the ranch house.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

By the time Harm returned from his run, Jen was up showered and dressed and was making a start on breakfast, "Hurry up and get dressed," she smiled as she gave him his good morning kiss, we've got a lot to do today!"

"Well, I've got a lot to do. I do need to get to the store, and then there's dinner to prepare, but what have you got in mind? Are you coming with me?"

Jen shook her head, "No, I'd only slow you down, but this place is a mess! Now, go on, shower and dress! Go!"

"I'm gone; I'm gone… what's for breakfast?"

"Eggs, toast, coffee, OJ! Now go!"

"All right, all right, already!" Harm laughed as he took the stairs three at a time. Reaching the sanctuary of the bedroom, he picked up his cell phone and dialled Loren.

"Hello?"

"Loren, it's Harm. Look I've got a little bit of a problem that I need some help with!"

"Go on," Loren said resignedly.

"Jen's got a bee in her bonnet about the place looking a mess, and I've got a feeling that she intends to start a cleaning blitz the second my back is turned. Can you persuade her that she needs to take a nice, long walk in the park with you and Sasha? I know you generally take her for a stroll on weekends…"

"I'll try…" Loren said doubtfully, "But you know she can be like if she does get an idea fixed in her head."

"I know, I know," Harm agreed, "But you could try?" he pleaded.

"I'll try, but no guarantees!"

"Thanks, Loren, that's all I ask!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Oh my, the time!" Jen gasped as the wall clock caught her eye, "We've spent so much time gossiping and playing with Sasha, that the day's half gone, and I haven't so much as lifted a finger around the house!"

"Why? Was there something you felt needed doing?" Loren asked innocently from where she knelt on the floor 'supervising' Sasha's as her daughter played with her baby-gym.

"Yes… look at this place! I was going to give it the once over before dinner tonight, but then you came over and with arguing you out of going for a walk and then tea and playing with Sasha and talking, I've let the day get away from me, and now Harm will be back from the stores at any moment, and I haven't done a thing, thanks.. to… you…" Jen's voice tailed off as a dreadful suspicion crossed her mind.

"That's what today's been all about, isn't it?" Jen suddenly demanded, "You and that… that… that … husband of mine! You've both conspired, the pair of you, to keep me from doing anything, haven't you? Oooh! I'll… I'll… I'll think of something!"

"Um… I think I'll take the Fifth on that!" Loren grinned unrepentantly as she heard the front door open, "Ah, that'll be Harm, I'll just give him a hand with the groceries! No, you stay there and keep an eye on Sasha, please!" and with a broad grin, Loren whirled away out into the hallway to meet Harm.

"Well?" he asked.

"No walk," Loren shook her head, "but I managed to keep her from doing any work. But she's just twigged on. I reckon we're both in for a lecture!"

Harm pulled a face, "If it keeps her from over exerting herself, then I can live with her tearing me a new one from time to time!"

"I heard that, mister!" Jen's voice floated through the open door.

Harm walked through to the kitchen and dropped the two bags of groceries on the table before he walked back through into the living room, where Jen sat on the couch, well supported by a nest of pillows and where Sasha was in reach if Jen just slid off the couch onto her knees.

Harm dropped onto the couch next to her and snaked an arm around her shoulders, "Hey, I meant what I said. If it means keeping you safe, then I can put up with being in your bad books for a while!"

Jen let him keep his arm around her shoulder, but stayed sitting upright instead of letting her head drop onto his chest as she usually did, "Harm, I know you mean it for the best, but I can't help feeling stifled, like you're wrapping me in absorbent cotton!"

Harm decided that Jen wasn't too annoyed and risked a bad joke, "Well, if you're feeling stifled or confined or suffocated, maybe you should have taken that walk with Loren and Sasha?"

Jen gasped, "I can't believe you just said that!" she accused him.

"Oh, he did, he did! I heard him from clean over here!" a totally unrepentant seeming Loren grinned.

Jen just glared at them both in turn.

"All right, play time over," Harm decided, "Jen, you say the place is a mess. It doesn't look too bad to me! Loren?"

"It looks fine to me too!" Loren agreed as she once again knelt on the floor next to Sasha. "If I thought the place was a mess, do you think I'd let Sasha roll around the floor like this?"

"But it is a mess – just look at it" Jen almost wailed.

"If it's such a mess just what did you have it mind to do?" Harm asked.

"The drapes need washing, the furniture all needs dusting and a coat of wax, the carpet needs vacuuming and…"

"Jen, Jen, they're all fine!" Loren tried to reassure her, "And I know exactly what you're doing! Do you remember when Harriet threw the Admiral's risotto out when she cleaned out the galley fridge, she was nesting! And that's exactly what you're going through! The place is fine! Absolutely fine!"

"You think?" Jen asked doubtfully.

Loren shook her head, "No, I don't think, I know!"

Harm nodded in agreement, "And anyway, if it'll make you feel better, I'm sure Loren will let you supervise her while she whips a rag over the furniture while I'm busy…" He dropped an urgent wink at Loren who looked as if she was just about to burst a blood vessel, but realising that he had an ulterior motive 'And when didn't he?' she indignantly asked herself, she subsided and contented herself with an icy glare which bounced off his innocent expression.

"So if that's sorted out, I've got one or two jobs that I need to finish before this evening!" Harm leaned over and bestowed a loving kiss on Jen's lips as she turned her head to give him a narrow-eyed stare, and then he bounded to his feet and disappeared into the kitchen where the two women could hear him whistling 'Anchors Away,' as he started preparing the dinner

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx **

The time flew by, helped by cups of teas and sandwiches provided by Harm, while Loren brought Jen up to date on all the really important stuff going on at Falls Church. Not the routine legal grit, but the really interesting news, like the progression of the romance between Staff Sergeant Hernandez and Lance Corporal Somers, or the progress of Seaman Maria Jenkins's pregnancy, or the, the pool that was running on when Harriet's due date would be confirmed.

"And I suppose that there's a pool on this the date of this one's arrival?" Jen asked complacently, smoothing her hand over her bump.

"Oh… you'd better believe it!" Loren giggled, "I've got you down for December twenty-fifth. Someone else," She cast a darkling glance in the direction of the kitchen, "Got December twenty-first before I had a chance!"

"So you're betting on me being late?" Jen asked mischievously.

Loren shrugged, "Well, that's always a possibility, especially with first-borns – although Sasha was bang on time – but when you consider who the father of your baby is…" she let her voice fade out suggestively.

"That's true!" Jen agreed, "But, what's this about Raoul Hernandez and Julia?"

"Well… it always seemed to me that she was the one laying down the law in that relationship, and you gotta admit the idea of Julia, who's half his size, dominating Raoul is quite appealing and amusing, but just lately there seems to have been a shift in the dynamic…"

Jen and Loren continued to exchange important snatches of intel until Loren glanced at her watch and gasped, and hastily picking up Sasha said, "It's late! Jen I've got to go, I need to get showered and dressed and get Sasha ready to go down! I'll be back by seven, though, I promise!"

Jen looked at her watch too. "Oh God! Loren, help me up please! We'll never make it! Harm! Look at the time!" she wailed.

There was a stunned silence from the kitchen followed by an explosive, "Crap!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Despite the last-minute scramble, Jen and Harm were dressed and ready to greet their guests by the time Loren strolled across the back yard, Sasha's porta-crib in hand, ready for Jen to take both mother and daughter upstairs to the still as yet unfinished nursery, where play mat and play pen as well as a crib had been rigged for Miss Sasha's comfort.

Quietly transferring the drowsy infant from porta crib to crib Loren held her breath as it seemed for a moment or two that her daughter was about to wake, but instead with a wriggle, and a thumb thrust into her mouth Sash's blue eyes closed and she drifted off back to sleep.

With a sigh of relief Loren hung the baby monitor transmitter on the end of the crib and clipped the receiver to the waistband of her tailored black pants. "Okay…" she breathed to Jen

Harm finished pouring a glass of wine for Loren and turned to his other guests, "Jack?" he asked with a lift of his eyebrow.

Jack grimaced, "Sparkling cider for me, please Harm."

Harm gave him a startled look, "Are you feeling okay?"

"No… not really. I'm back on watch at twenty-three fifty-nine, which is why I'm driving, and which is why we're gonna have to leave by twenty-three hundred at the latest, but I'm pretty sure that Beth will help you out with reducing the amount of beer in the fridge!"

"Yes, please, Harm," Beth said, looking up from the couch where she had ben interrogating Jen on the progress of her pregnancy.

With a bewildered shake of his head, Harm poured Jack a tumbler of the despised sparkling cider and twisted the cap of a beer for Beth. "What's going on?" he demanded almost suspiciously, as if he suspected Jack of perpetrating some kind of joke.

"Simple, I'm on watch tonight, Beth's not!" Jack said taking a mouthful of cider.

"But… but… you're on the same watch, aren't you?" an equally flummoxed Jen asked.

"Not any more, not since Monday!" Beth said bitterly.

"Why, what happened?" Harm asked.

"Some ass… uh… some kind caring person used the IG's sexual misconduct line to report that Beth and I were having an improper relationship. We managed to persuade Sylvia Jackson that it was a platonic relationship, but she had to be seen to take some sort of action, so she transferred Beth to the Charlie Watch… As a result, today, I'm off for the Dog Watches, and Beth is on her three-day stand-down"

"That sucks!" Loren exploded.

"Uh… I hate to be nosy… but you didn't lie about where you are in your… relationship, did you?" Jen asked worriedly, envisaging Jack and Beth having to face charges of making a false official statement.

Beth coloured faintly while both Harm and Jack seemed to find something absorbing in their glasses, but eventually a pink cheeked Beth managed, "No… we haven't gotten to that stage yet…" but then she seemed to make a recovery, "But now we aren't on the same watch anymore…" and she cast a speculative glance at Jack, whose turn it was now to glow red.

Loren, Jen and Beth exchanged a conspiratorial glance and subsided back into their seats, each with an identical smug, self-satisfied grin on their faces.

Jack's blushes were spared by the ringing of the front door bell and although Harm turned towards the door that led into the hall way, Loren jumped to her feet, "I'll get that!" she declared and whisked out of the room.

Some two minutes later a smiling David Medwick and a pink-cheeked Loren, clutching a bouquet of sweet peas and anemones, re-entered a silent room where to Loren's increasing embarrassment she found herself the focus of four pairs of inquisitive eyes.

"You were quite a time out there," Jen observed in a disinterested sort of voice.

"M'mm… door stick, did it?" Harm asked innocently.

Jack and Beth gazed interestedly at them as both David and Loren now blushed, but David managed a grin and stepped forward a tissue wrapped bottle in his hand, "Okay you guys, knock it off! Yeah, Loren and I shared a moment, but so what? We're both free and over twenty-one! Here, Harm, it's not much, just my contribution to the evening…"

"Thanks, Tuna," Harm replied, taking the bottle and turning, placed it among the array already on the sideboard, "Have you met Jack?"

David who had just exchanged a smiling greeting with Beth turned, "Oh, yeah. Don't forget I had those few weeks at Andrews before we deployed. I lost half my damned leave because of that flu bug! How're you doing, sir?" He added the last to Jack.

"We're doing pretty well," Jack stepped forward and laid a casually proprietary hand on Beth's shoulder, just in case David hadn't got the message, which by the sly grin he now wore, he most certainly had, "But as we're both here as Harm's guests, it'd better be Keeter or Jack…"

"This is all very nice," Loren interrupted with shining eyes, "But, David has some interesting news to share with you all, don't you?" she prompted him.

Harm exchanged a startled look with Jen, if Tuna was about to say what Harm thought he was, then both he and Jen would certainly have something to say to Loren after the other guests had gone home!

"Oh… I… uh… I wasn't going to say anything tonight. In fact, I wasn't going to say anything until I got back on board and it was all official… Um… it's…"

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Loren snapped as she cast a despairing glance at Tuna, "What he's trying to tell you, or avoid telling you is that Lieutenant David Medwick's name came up on the aviation community half-yearly list. With effect from September thirtieth, Lieutenant David Medwick becomes Lieutenant Commander David Medwick USN!"

Her eyes glowing with pride, Loren made a half turn and gave David a hug at the same time planting a warm kiss on his cheek, "I won't be on board for the ceremony, so that's your official congratulatory kiss!" she told him sternly.

However, David saw the light in her eyes, and his own reply was a soft-voiced, "Yes, ma'am!"

Which was all he had time for as Beth helped Jen to her feet and they took turns in also giving him a hug while Harm and Jack jostled each other as they stepped up to offer the newly promoted officer a congratulatory hand shake.

While they did so, Jen poured David a glass of wine, and raising her own glass of lemonade, she said cheerfully, "Congratulations once again, David!"

A general chorus of agreement rose under the cover of which David whispered to Loren, "I am so gonna get you for that!"

"For what?" she twinkled back at him innocently.

"For outing me like that!" he grinned.

"Oh… that!" Loren said, and with smile remarkably like that of a cat who had just dined off prime canary took a sip from her drink.

"So…" Jack stepped in, "What do you figure this means for you, Tuna?"

"In what way?" David asked.

"Professionally. Are you going to have to PCS?"

"Uh… I don't know… I hope not… Sharkbait got his step to Commander, so that means that there's a vacancy for the squadron. So if that goes to Minuteman… he's got time in grade, then that opens the XO spot, and I've done squadron maintenance officer, weapons officer and training officer, so I guess I'm kinda hoping for the XO's job…"

Harm nodded, "Makes sense to me…"

"Yeah, but this is the Navy…" Jack added doubtfully.

"Hell!" David laughed, "There's always that!"

"Yeah, 'Chief, the troops look too happy, screw 'em around some more'!" Jen chuckled.

The four naval aviators, past and present, looked at Jen and then at each other before they chorused, "Oh, yeah! There's always that!"

"And there's always food!" Harm commented as he heard the pinging of the kitchen timer, "grab a seat everyone!" and he turned and headed for the kitchen.

"Y'all will allow me to help!" Beth smiled, "It'll make things go a lot quicker!"

"And a lot easier if he just says, 'yes, ma'am'!" Jack added as he took his seat.

"I never thought I'd see the day when Jack Keeter was so thoroughly whipped!" Harm chuckled and then added an indignant "Hey!" as Beth gave him a firm push in the small of his back towards the kitchen.

Harm's homemade salmon and lemon grass fish cakes with rémoulade sauce were enthusiastically greeted, and were followed by Aubergine Parmigiano with Parmentier potatoes and a crunchy salad, and the meal was finished off with a fresh fruit salad served with a Greek style yoghurt.

Jack and David helped Harm with the clearing down and the stacking of the dishes in the kitchen while Loren brewed coffee for them all and Skates kept Jen occupied in the lounge.

Sadly, Keeter and Skates only had time for the one cup of coffee, before she regretfully nudged Jack and gave a pointed look at her watch and with a sigh, he put his cup down on the occasional table and levered himself out of his chair, "If a man's gotta go, he's gotta go!" he announced to the room at large, "No… don't get up Jen, I'll come down to your level!" he smiled as he dropped to one knee, and placed a kiss on her offered cheek. "I'd say thanks for the dinner, but I just know that Harm cooked it! But thanks for inviting us and for putting up with my nonsense! And remember if Harm gets called away, and you need anything, just call me or Beth!" He grunted as he rose back to his full height and turned to the patiently waiting Beth. "Well, what are you standing around for woman? Do you want to make me late?"

"Jack Keeter! You are going to regret that crack!" Beth scolded him as she slipped her hand into his arm.

Harm followed Jack and Beth out to the hall, "Thanks for that offer to Jen," he said as he opened the door for them, "but I'll do my best to make sure I don't get sent out of town too near her due date.

Jack looked at him keenly, "Yeah, but you and I both know that we don't get to call those shots all the time!"

"No," Beth agreed, "Look at what's just happened to me and Jack! But we meant what he said, if Jen needs us while you're away for any reason, she can call us. At least with the change in watches, one of us will be free if she needs us!"

"That's my girl!" Jack grinned, "Always the optimist!"

Harm smiled as he watched the two walk down the path towards Beth's Taurus as her voice floated back to him, "Your girl? Your girl, Jack Keeter? H'mph, we'll see about that!"

It was as if Jack and Beth's departure was a signal for the party to break up and by the time Harm returned to the lounge David, over Jen and Loren's objections was making 'time to go home' noises.

"Harm! Tell him he's got to stay a while!" Jen insisted.

"Yeah, you can't let him go, without him at least having seen Sasha!"

"The girls are right, Tuna!" Harm said sternly, "Besides, how much have you had to drink tonight?"

"Only two glasses of wine!" David protested, "I'm fine…"

"No you are not! I am not letting you drive! So you can just sit down, have another glass of wine, and you can stay over! The spare room's ready and it's about time it got some use!" Loren declared and glared at David as if daring him to contradict her.

David looked at the three determined faces confronting him and threw up his hands in surrender, "Okay, okay, I'll stay – but only because you used unfair tactics!" he added to Loren.

"Unfair tactics?" she demanded, "When?"

"When you brought Sasha into the argument!" David retorted.

"Hey, if it works, it works, right Jen? And it's good enough for me!" Loren smirked.

"Damn straight!" Jen announced firmly, but with a wicked grin of her own.

Harm groaned and shook his head, "Take it from me, pal, if these two have decided to gang up on you, then you might as well just roll over and play dead, there's no help for it!"

"Damn it!" David grinned, echoing Harm's earlier remark to Jack, "Never thought to see the day you were so whipped – and loving it!"

"And he loves it!" Loren smiled, "And so will you – oh!"

Her last exclamation was prompted by the tinny sound of Sasha's awakening cries as transmitted by the baby monitor, "Oh dear, that's her 'I've got a full diaper' cry!" Loren grimaced. "Well you wanted to see Sasha, now's your chance!" she told a broadly grinning David, who was already on his feet in anticipation.

Loren and Tuna made their way upstairs, not quite hand in hand, but close enough as Jen observed with a smile of satisfaction, that their hands brushed against each other as they walked. Her smile didn't pass unnoticed by Harm who following her line of sight asked "Well?"

"Yes, very well, I think!" Jen agreed and raised her glass of lemonade in a silent toast to Loren and David.

Harm nodded and picking up his wine, followed suit.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Loren picked up her crying daughter from the crib and hooking the diaper bag to within reach with an expert foot, laid Sasha down on the changing mat and unbuttoned her onesie, "Oh dear God!" she groaned as her olfactory senses were overcome, "That's disgusting! No more pureed peas for you, young lady!"

Tuna couldn't resist, "Here let me take her and clean her up, and then you can put the fresh diaper on her!"

"You are more than welcome!" Loren agreed stepping back, "I get more than enough practice at this particular black art! But hold on a second…" she bent and opened the cabinet under the changing table, "Ah," she said with satisfaction and took out the plastic bowl which she'd hoped was there. "I'll put some warm water in this, while you put… that… somewhere with a hazmat tag on it!"

Ten minutes later David slipped his arm around Loren's waist as they stood side by side next to the crib, staring down at the once more peacefully sleeping infant. Almost simultaneously they became aware of how they were stood. Loren gasped and stepped back, while David hastily dropped his arm, "Oh, God, Loren I'm so, so sorr…" he started to say as they both turned, red with embarrassment, to face each other.

But then, "No, I'm not… I'm not sorry at all…" Tuna said determinedly and reaching out he went to take hold of Loren's hands, but was himself taken by surprise, as she reached up, took his face in her hands and dragged his mouth down to hers.

When lack of oxygen drove them apart, Loren gasped, "I think we've outstayed our welcome here, don't you?"

"I do indeed," David said raggedly.

Within seconds a protesting Sasha was snugly strapped into her porta crib while the baby changing paraphernalia was stuffed back into her diaper bag, Loren and David almost ran downstairs and with a cheery, "'Night Harm, 'night Jen!" slipped through the kitchen and out of the back door.

Harm looked after the pair in bemusement; "Well…" he began.

Jen merely grinned triumphantly and punched a fist into the air, "Yes! Result!" she exulted.

Back in the ranch-house, Loren finished settling Sasha and then turned to David, and despite her attempt at calmness her voice sounded hoarse in her own ears as she spoke, "They'll never believe we spent the night in separate beds, you know."

"No." David agreed just as hoarsely.

"Well if we're going to get the blame, then we might as well play the game…" Loren said and then dropped her eyes, suddenly overcome by shyness.

"Oh, so very yes!" David agreed fervently, reaching out for her for the second time that evening.


	87. It's All Too Beautiful

**Chapter 87  
>It's All Too Beautiful<strong>

"Harm?" Jen mumbled as she woke to the disturbance as Harm rolled out of bed.

"Sssh, sweetheart; go back to sleep, there's no need for you to get up yet…"

"Wha' time is't?" Jen half said and half yawned.

"Nearly eight thirty – but that doesn't matter. We had a late night of it, and you deserve a lie-in. Go back to sleep!"

Instead Jen propped herself up on her elbows and blinked the sleep out of her eyes, blearily trying to make out what Harm was doing, "Whass up?"

"Going for a run," Harm grinned, just before he bent down to tie his sneaker laces.

"Oh…" for some reason Jen felt reassured by the normality of that scenario, and she plopped back onto her pillows and closing her eyes, snuggled back under the duvet.

Harm straightened up, stood and half turned back towards the bed and having reassured himself he turned and with a fond smile on his face slipped out of the room and headed downstairs.

Once downstairs, he unlocked the front door and after indulging in a smug, knowing grin at the sight of Tuna's rental Impala still parked at the kerbside, he reverted to his usual routine of using the porch steps as an aid to stretching his leg muscles. He had barely started his routine when he was surprised – to say the least – by the appearance of Loren beside him. Like him she was dressed in sneakers, running shorts and a t-shirt, with her hair caught back in a ponytail.

"'Morning Loren, what are… Were you spying on me?"

Loren grinned through gritted teeth as she did alternate leg calf extends, "No… but I need to run – even if you wouldn't call what I do running – especially after too much to eat last night! And bumping into you here is pure…. Coincidence… I thought you'd have been long gone!" she puffed the last as she stood spraddle legged and bent forward from the waist to place the palms of her hands flat on the ground.

Harm nodded, "Normally I would have been, but we overslept this morning," but then his brain finally caught up with his eyes, as he noticed a distinct lack of infant in stroller. "Where's Sasha?" he asked.

"David's looking after her," she smiled, and then caught the grin on Harm's face, "Okay, he stayed the night, so what?" she asked pugnaciously, as a blush crept into her face while she thanked whatever gods there might be that if he called her on it, she could explain her red cheeks as a result of the bending and stretching!

"Yeah, I know he stayed," Harm grinned smugly, nodding towards the Impala, but then his grin faded, "And apart from the fact that if you're happy, then I'm happy, and if you want Tuna to stay over, then it's none of my damned business," he finished earnestly.

Loren looked at Harm in in surprise, verging even on wonder, "You… you really mean that, don't you?"

It was Harm's turn to look surprised, "Why in the world wouldn't I mean it?"

"Well… Sasha… and you've been so much like a big brother to me… well, what I imagine a big brother should be like…"

Harm reached out and with a long, strong, but gentle finger he tipped Loren's chin up so that they could look each other in the eye, "Hey, I told you – months ago – that Tuna was one of the good guys," he said softly, "And if I had changed my mind in the interim, don't you think I would have said something to either you or him? Hell no, Tuna is one of the good guys, and if he makes you happy – in whatever capacity – then I'm happy for you too… and Jen will be absolutely ecstatic!"

Loren sniffled and then rallied, "Yeah… she's been his advocate all along, hasn't she?"

Harm nodded, "Yep, that's one very smart wife I got!" he said smugly.

Loren gave him an exasperated look, "Oh, for… Look, are we gonna run this morning, or just stand around beating our gums?"

"Okay… same three miles?" Harm challenged her.

Loren nodded, "Lead on!"

Harm was slightly surprised at the additional pace Loren achieved without having to push Sasha's stroller as they ran, although even so, Loren was nowhere near hi best speed, and they shaved nearly three minutes off the previous day's time for the same route, even of the result was a red-faced and panting Loren jogging to a stop as they returned to the house.

"Keep moving until you've cooled down!" Harm advised her, jogging on the spot until she acknowledged his instruction with a nod and a raised hand, when he turned and increasing his pace, he set out for the additional seven miles he felt he needed to complete his morning work-out.

**lxxxvii-lxxxvii-lxxxvi-lxxxvii-lxxxvii**

A freshly showered Loren emerged from the bathroom and slipped on a pair of jeans and a sweat shirt before she crossed the dog-run to the main part of the ranch-house, where she found Sasha making a valiant attempt at rolling over onto her stomach while David kept a wary eye on her even while he prepared breakfast.

"Good morning, beautiful," he smiled as Loren entered.

"Good morning," she replied a little more soberly than Tuna liked.

"Is there something wrong? Did I push a little too hard last night? I mean, if you want me to leave…"

Loren shook her head vigorously, "No, no, nothing like that… well… yeah… yeah, something along those lines… but the shoe's on the other foot." She made a helpless gesture in the direction of the bedroom, "Just because we… we… well… just because… you don't have to stay and play nice… I didn't do… I mean I didn't let us make love just to put a rope around your neck… If last night was all you wanted, then I guess, if we're both honest about it, we can say goodbye, without any hard feelings…" Loren's voice trailed off uncertainly.

Tuna was around the table in flash, urgently but gently taking possession of her hands she looked into her eyes, "You are not only, as I said, beautiful, you are probably the world's worst liar! If you think you can fool me into thinking that you wouldn't cry yourself sick if I took you at your word, then you're lying to yourself too! No!" he let go of her hand for a moment and held up a silencing finger, "I am not being egotistical, just reading what your eyes are telling me. And you are not only being unfair to me, but if that's what you think I'm like then you're disrespecting yourself too, for having allowed me into your bed! Loren Rabb, when will you get it into your head, that apart from having to return on board ship, I'm going to stick to you, like a chewed toffee to a blanket!

Loren gave a little hiccup of relief and smiled somewhat nervously, "I was so afraid that you were just going to walk out of the door and that I'd never see you again…"

David smiled and said gently, "Hey… My name's not Sergei!

Loren blushed again, his time in confusion, and dropped her eyes, "No… I know you're not…" she began, almost inaudibly.

Once again David let go of her hand, and much as Harm had done earlier, he tiled her chin up, so that he could see her eyes, "But you're right about being wary, about being uncertain. Loren. Right now I can't 'prove' anything, all I can do is repeat that as far as you're concerned, I intend to be around for a very long time!"

"Oh…"

"Yeah, 'oh'," David smiled, "So… how about you sit down and feed your daughter, while I fix breakfast for us big people?"

"Yeah… I think I'd like that," Loren agreed, with the faint beginnings of a real smile on her face.

"Good!" David's smile, on the other hand was full blown, soft and gentle, and Loren couldn't help but respond to it, and to him, as he leaned in and kissed her softly.

"Good morning, beautiful," he smiled as he raised his head.

"Yeah… it could be a very good morning!" Loren said softly, with shining eyes.

**lxxxvii-lxxxvii-lxxxvi-lxxxvii-lxxxvii**

Jen was up, showered, dressed and had straightened the bedroom by the time Harm got back from his run and smilingly left her tea on the kitchen table as she got up to meet him, "Hi handsome!" she smiled as she grabbed his forearms for balance, and her pregnancy clumsiness made slightly worse by her disreputable Garfield slippers, she rose tentatively on top toes and raised her face for his kiss.

"Morning, sweetheart," he replied as she dropped back onto her heels, "Hey, what's wrong?" he demanded as her face creased in a frown, "Is it the baby?"

"No, nothing like that, in fact, it's you! Go take a shower for heaven's sake, you're not only hot, sticky and sweaty, but you stink like a polecat too!"

"Okay, I get it. But next time you might not want to beat about the bush quite so much, just come right out and say what you think!"

Jens nose wrinkled and she gurgled with laughter as she replied, "Thanks for the tip, Counsellor, I'll do my best to remember it the next time! But now, for the love of God's and the sake of my stomach – go!"

"Okay, okay, I'm a-going, but there had better be a proper kiss waiting for me when I get back," Harm grinned.

"That will depend on just how near to squeaky clean you can get!"

Jen's welcomed his return, now clad in worn but clean jeans and a plaid shirt, from the bathroom with a smile and, "Hey you cleaned up pretty good!" and proceeded to give fairly forthright, if rather brief, physical proof of her satisfaction with his efforts.

"So, now that you're fit to be seen in public, I might just let you join me for breakfast."

Harm, who had been appreciatively sniffing the air agreed with alacrity and hooking his rump onto one of the kitchen stools asked. "So what has Madame concocted for our gastronomic delight this morning?"

Jen grinned and placed two slices of toast on Harm's plate, "Oh, nothing much," she said airily, "just a mushroom omelette, grilled tomato and cottage fries, although the fries came out of the box and I just reheated them in the microwave."

Harm closed his eyes and shook his head sadly, "Cooking by Polaroid, whatever next!"

"Hey! You don't have to eat it!" Jen puffed in pretended indignation.

"No, no, it's fine. I'll eat it, it's a sin to waste food!"

"Yeah right," Jen grinned again and continued to serve each of them half the omelette, accompanied by two half-tomatoes and a spoonful of the despised cottage fries.

By the end of the meal Jen was fighting hard to keep a straight face as she noticed that despite his voiced complaints Harm had left nothing of his breakfast on the plate.

Harm waved Jen back to her seat as she made to stand and he swiftly cleared the detritus from the breakfast counter to the sink and moved to the kettle, which he placed on the burner, "Any particular flavour, this morning?" he asked her.

"Umm… Lemon grass, please," Jen replied. "Camomile's a bit too heavy, and anyway, my stomach feels fine these days."

Harm cocked an eye at the kettle as wisps of vapour gently rose from its spout, "Apart from that, how are you feeling? I know you said you expected to start feeling tired again."

Jen nodded, "No hint of morning sickness coming back…" she mustered a smile but went a little pale at the thought, "It was always a possibility, and I really wasn't looking forward to that, so other than permanent backache, feet that I can barely squeeze into my shoes anymore and that hurt like hell, your daughter playing soccer with my bladder half the day and all night and ankles swollen up like barrage balloons, I'm just peachy!"

Harm grimaced in sympathy, even deciding to let the sniping shot about 'your daughter' pass without comment, "Okay… so why don't you go into the lounge, put a pillow on the coffee table and just sit back, put your feet up and relax while I clean up in here. I'll bring your tea out to you, so go…"

Jen looked around anxiously, "I know you and Loren said the place looks fine, but it looks awful to me, and makes me feel like a total slattern! I couldn't just…"

"Yes, you can. If you really feel that way, then I can shove the drapes into the washing machine, and I'm pretty sure I can figure how to use the vacuum._ You_ are going to take it easy, don't forget, we've got a busy day ahead of us tomorrow!"

"Yeah… tomorrow…" Jen said slowly as she hauled herself upright, "You're not thinking of playing are you?"

"Oh, Jen it's only a scratch game of touch football…" Harm protested, "And I'll be careful!"

"Scratch game? So no helmets, no armour? Nuh-huh! No way mister! You are not going to risk a permanent disabling injury, not when I have plans for you!"

"What sort of plans?" asked a startled Harm.

"Big plans, scheduled for about six weeks after madam here makes her appearance!" Jen grinned in triumph.

"Dammit," Harm groaned as he began to pour the boiling water into the cups – Lemon Grass tea for Jen and instant coffee for himself, "That's low, mean and underhand!"

"But at a guess, I'd say it was effective!" Jen chuckled.

Harm favoured her with a grim stare, "Yes, all right it was effective!" he complained, and then despite himself, grinned.

"That's better!" Jen smiled approvingly as she proceeded at a dignified waddle into the lounge.

**lxxxvii-lxxxvii-lxxxvi-lxxxvii-lxxxvii**

"Any more plans for the day, Loren?" David asked.

Loren looked up from where she was just finishing changing Sasha, "No… Sundays we stay pretty quiet. During the summer, I used to make a packed lunch for myself and take Loren for a walk in one the local parks, but we haven't done that so much lately…" Loren shrugged, "The weather hasn't been so good, and then Jen used to come with me, but she gets tired quickly these days… and I can't blame her, I remember just how she feels…"

A gurgle from her daughter distracted her, "But you were worth every minute of it! Yes, you were!"

David smiled, "Well how about I make up a packed lunch for all three of us, and then I'll drive to whatever park you designate… If we wrap Sasha up, it shouldn't be too cold for her," he argued, looking through the window at what had shaped up to be a pretty mild early fall day.

"The park we go to, David, it's quite small and there's nothing there, apart from some walkways, and grass, it's pretty boring…" Loren protested, but she could feel herself weakening, and just managed to prevent herself from throwing a wistful glance out of the window.

"Then it's just what I need!" David exclaimed. "I've got all the excitement I can handle for one weekend right here! And if it does get too cold for Sasha, well, if the park is that small, then wherever we are in it, we won't be too far from the car!"

Loren gave him a calculating look, "You shared a cabin with Harm on the PH, didn't you?" she challenged him.

"Yeah, why?"

"Just how tight were you two?"

"How do you mean?" David asked a slight frown appearing on his forehead.

"I mean, did you guys hang out together, shoot the breeze, talk to each other a lot?"

"Yeah, of course, we were cabin-mates as well as squadron-mates, why?" David asked again, his frown deepening.

"I think more of Harm rubbed off on you than you realise!" Loren suddenly smiled, transforming her face, "Seems like he taught you to argue like a lawyer!"

"Ouch!" David grabbed at his chest with both hands and staggered a couple of steps backwards, "You really know how to hurt a guy – comparing him to an attorney!" he grinned.

Loren smiled, delighted with her ploy, "Perhaps, Mister Medwick, you've forgotten exactly what it is that I do for a living?"

David started at her in horror for a moment and then the shoe dropped, "You… you set me up for that!" he accused her,

"Yep!" Loren smiled smugly, "But if we're going to the park, you'd better get a move on with those packed lunches!"

"Aye, aye, ma'am!" David gave her a sloppy salute and turned towards the kitchen, but as he did so, he passed Loren and sweeping out an arm he hooked her into his arms and gave her a thorough kiss, "That's just so you don't forget about me, while I'm in the other room!" he grinned and skipped out of range before Loren could retaliate.

**lxxxvii-lxxxvii-lxxxvi-lxxxvii-lxxxvii**

Harm paused and wiped the back of his hand over his forehead and with the other hand switched of the vacuum. He was right, just audible over the noise of the vacuum cleaner he had heard the shrilling of the telephone. "Stay where you are!" he called to Jen at the other end of the room, where she was resting on the couch, a catalogue of infant 'necessities' open on her lap.

Harm crossed to the phone and picked it up on the fourth ring, just before the answer machine cut in, "Rabb!"

"_Hello darling_," Trish's voice travelled smoothly across the three thousand miles separating them.

"Hi mom," Harm replied, just loudly enough to attract Jen's attention. Jen put the catalogue down on her lap and stared at Harm with a mulish expression on her face.

"What can I do for you?" Harm asked as he rolled his eyes at Jen.

"_Actually, darling, nothing, but I would like to speak with Jen if she's available…_"

Harm could plainly hear the pleading note on his mom's voice and he winced once more, but, "Mom, are you sure…?"

"_Yes. I'm sure Harmon. Jen and I need to clear the air between us_!"

An expression of dismay settled on Harm's face, his mother usually only called him by his full name when he was well and truly in the dog-house, or when she was extremely put out about something else that she wished to be able to blame on him. "Okay, mom… I'll ask her…" Harm drew a breath and turned towards the couch, "Jen, it's mom, she wants to talk with you!"

Jen nodded and held out her hand for the phone, but with a set expression on her face. "Yes?" she asked, and waved off an anxiously hovering Harm.

"_Jennifer, good morning, it's Trish. Please don't say anything just yet, and just listen. Harmon made it pretty clear yesterday when we spoke that you were of the opinion that I had somehow overstepped the mark when I invited myself and Frank to come and stay with you when you were due to have your baby. I didn't take that very well and complained to Frank about the accusation. Unfortunately from my point of view and in the frame of mind I was in at the time, he too thought I had been too pushy, and that I had managed to thoroughly upset you, and that the only reason you didn't call me on my behaviour was because you didn't want to force Harm to take sides. It took me a little while to accept that you and Frank were right. I did overstep the mark, and for that I unconditionally and most sincerely apologise… you see… I thought you might like some company on those weeks when you were on leave and practically tied to the house…"_

Jen bit her lip, she might be out of patience with Trish's pushiness, but she was well aware that not only was Trish's heart in the right place, but also that she was a proud woman, and years of managing her own art-gallery had given her what Jen for lack of a better alternative could only call command presence, and for the older woman to make such an unreserved apology must have been very difficult for her. So despite her still simmering irritation, Jen knew that she would have to meet Trish half-way, at least.

"Trish," she began, choosing her words very carefully, "First off, of course I accept your apology! And you are right in thinking that I will appreciate some company during those last couple of weeks, and I was going to ask you to come and stay with us, but this past week, it just felt that you and Frank had erupted into our lives here in Falls Church and had taken over. The night of your first visit was a surprise, a very welcome one, and we were both delighted to see you, and we thoroughly enjoyed the dinner with you, which you both provided and cooked. But even that was edging towards the borderline, you see it is our house, and our kitchen and you just arrived and steamrollered right over us. Then the second night, you turned up unannounced at our door, and although it wasn't a convenient time for us, again we couldn't turn you away, so in a sense it felt like that you had forced our hand for the second time in two days. Then you calmly announced that you were coming to stay for the birth and up to the New Year. That was about the time I had in mind to invite you, but here's the thing, it was for me to invite you, rather than for you to invite yourself. Maybe I should have said something at the time, but I didn't want to start an argument with you in front of Harm, I couldn't ask him to take sides, I couldn't have stood it if he had taken your side, and I would have hated myself if he had taken my side and it caused a rift between you. I know that Harm isn't the best in the world at showing his feelings, but I do know that he loves you very much."

Trish let out a plainly audible sigh, "_I suppose I deserved that lecture, but thank you for being so generous. That's only half the solution isn't it? How do we make sure we don't get ourselves into the same pickle again_?"

"Maybe some ground rules, setting out the boundaries?" Jen hazarded.

"_Yes, that sounds fair enough. But as you have just pointed out, it is your house, and your marriage. So perhaps you should make the rules?_"

"Oh…" for a moment Jen was stumped, "Okay… how about a simple couple of rules. One: we don't take each for granted and just assume that it's okay to turn up on each other's doorstep without making arrangements first?"

"_Yes, okay… That sounds more than reasonable_," Trish agreed.

"And two: If a proposed visit isn't convenient then we say so, and the other doesn't get into a snit over it?"

"_Yes, I can live with that too_!" Trish agreed

"Good… There's just one other thing," Jen said.

"_What is it_?" Trish asked slightly nervously.

"It's just that I'm going to be on maternity leave for six weeks from December fifth, my due date is December twenty-first, and I was wondering… well… it would be a huge help and even a comfort to me if you and maybe Frank too, could come back east and visit with us for that period, and maybe even spend Christmas with us?"

"_Jen, darling, I'd love to come, thank you. But I'll need to check to see what dates Frank can manage_."

"Good… in that case, I'll expect to hear from you soon!"

"_Yes, bye, sweetheart…"_

"Oh, Trish… before you hang up, would you like a word or two with Harm?"

"_Yes… yes, I would, thank you, Jen_!"

Jen held the phone out to Harm who had been almost hovering anxiously over Jen during her conversation with Trish, "Trish wants to speak with you," she said with a smile.

"Hello, mom?"

"_Hello again, darling. I just want to let you know that I think Jen and I have mended fences… You know you have a wonderful girl there, Harm._"

"Ye, mom," he smiled down at Jen, "I'm beginning to figure out for myself just how wonderful she is!""

"_And very loving, very understanding, and very forgiving. So I can only hope that if I caused any strain between the two of you then I am very sorry for that too_!"

"Thanks for that mom, but not needed…" he smiled down at Jen again, who gave him a quizzical smile in return, "We're good!"

"_I'm relieved to hear it_!" Trish answered, and then paused before she said, "_Well, goodbye, son, take care of yourself, and Jen and that baby!_"

"I will, mom. I love you!"

"_I love you too and you two_!" Trish said, and now Harm could hear the smile in her voice, which had the effect of broadening his own smile.

When the line went dead, Harm carefully placed the phone on the coffee table, and gently dropped onto the couch alongside Jen. He looped a long arm around her shoulder and with his other hand, he again used a finger to tilt her face up towards her, before he lowered his head and kissed her long, gently and thoroughly.

"Oh, wow! What was that for?" Jen asked once the kiss had ended, "Not that I'm complaining!" she added hastily.

"That was for being, very loving, very understanding and very forgiving and being a wonderful girl – according to my mom," he teased her gently.

**lxxxvii-lxxxvii-lxxxvi-lxxxvii-lxxxvii**

Loren giggled as she slid out from behind the wheel of her Escort, she and David had decided that it was easier to take her car rather than mess about transferring Sasha's car seat to the Impala and then back again when they returned from the park.

"What's so funny?" David asked as he bent over the back seat to unsnap Sasha's safety harness.

"Oh… it looks like Jen got her way after all," Loren smiled. "She's going through a nesting stage, and yesterday, among other things she wanted to wash the drapes… well, from the condition of the windows, I'd say she got her druthers this morning!"

David took a quick glance at the naked windows and grinned, "Yep, I'd say she did!"

"Well, I hope she enjoyed the experience as much as this one did!" Loren grinned as she hefted her sleeping daughter in her arms while David dig the stroller put of the trunk.

Like a lot of babies, Sasha was quickly lulled to sleep every time she travelled by car, and although it was a blessing ins some ways, it tended to play havoc with her normal sleep pattern, and there was more than one occasion when in the middle of the night a hastily dressed Loren had slipped out of the ranch-house and take Sasha on a few miles drive to get her back to sleep. But today Sasha had appeared to enjoy the fresh air of Bel-Air Park and at one stage seemed to take an interest in a group of young boys kicking a soccer ball around, she had certainly enjoyed her lunch which with the exception of a couple of spoonfuls of pureed carrots mommy had provided while sitting on a secluded bench in a sheltered corner of the park while David stood and blocked the line of sight of anyone venturing down that particular path

Not that Loren hadn't enjoyed the lunch that David had mad up, pastrami on rye bread together with salad greens, tomatoes and mayonnaise had formed the basis of the lunch, but he had also packed a thermos flask of tea and a piece of fruit each.

But much as she had enjoyed the meal, Loren hand enjoyed the walk in David's company even more, and had readily agreed to his plan, prolonging their expedition so that David could go back to his hotel, pick up his traps, as he called them, and check out.

Now, as they walked the length of the back yard, Loren asked, rather wistfully, "How much more leave have you got, David?"

"Until zero eight hundred on Wednesday, when I have to report to the flight line at Andrews to catch the helo shuttle down to Oceana, and then the COD back to the ship."

"Well… tomorrow's pretty well spoken for with the picnic… but do you think we could make another evening, perhaps Tuesday… I'm sure Jen and Harm would be happy to babysit again?"

"Of course!" David agreed, "But my pockets won't run to another evening at Romano's just yet!"

Loren shook her head, "I really don't care where we go, and anyway, I can't wear that same dress again, and I've nothing else that's really fit to be seen in an up-market venue!"

"So… Beltway Burgers?" David asked with a wicked glint in his eye.

Loren sighed, "Their double thick, double chocolate shakes are to die for, but no, I'm supposed to be getting ready for my post-delivery PRT."

"Oh…healthy eating?" David queried and receiving Loren's nod, he asked, "How about a sushi bar?"

"Ew!" Loren wrinkled her nose in disgust and then burst out laughing.

**lxxxvii-lxxxvii-lxxxvi-lxxxvii-lxxxvii**

Lunch for Harm and Jen was a quick sandwich and glass of lemonade as Jen directed his efforts at housekeeping, only cutting him some slack at just gone five o'clock in the afternoon, when Harm pointing out that he needed to make a start on dinner almost mutinied. He had, he pointed out taken the drapes down from all four windows in the lounge and dining room, laundered them, dried them and then the worst part of the day he had ironed the creases out of them before re-hanging them. He had also, he added, enumerating his grievances on his finger, dusted and polished every bit of furniture on the first floor as well as having vacuumed the entire first floor and all the soft furnishings thereon. "So if you want to eat this evening, then it's time for me to hang up my vacuum and put on my chef's apron!" he finished.

"Well… I could make dinner while you carry on with the nursery," Jen said innocently.

Harm gave her a piercing look, "Oh no, I am not falling for that! I have done quite enough today!"

"Even though it's your wonderful, loving, understanding wife that's asking?" Jen said with a mock pout.

"Nope, not a chance! And I'm not falling or those puppy-dog eyes either!" Harm said defiantly, crossing his arms to emphasise his stance.

Jen pouted again, and gently rubbed her bump, "You know, baby, that your daddy is the most marvellous man in the world, but like all men he can be difficult, but every once in a while he gets into a snit, just like he has tonight, and then there's no reasoning with him at all!" she said mournfully.

Deeply appreciative of Jen's performance, Harm demanded. "And just what do you know about every man in the world?" trying to maintain a stern voice over the chuckles bubbling up inside him.

"Not a lot, just extrapolating from your current behaviour, and my memories of the Admiral," Jen said innocently.

"I don't believe this! You're actually comparing me to the Admiral?" Harm asked in a wounded voice.

"Well, you did ask, sweetheart." Jen smiled, "And I do believe you mentioned something about getting dinner ready!"

**lxxxvii-lxxxvii-lxxxvi-lxxxvii-lxxxvii**

Although he would rather have died than admit it, by the time he'd cooked dinner and cleaned up the kitchen, and then surrendered to Jen's pleas for a foot massage, Harm was exhausted, and managed, he thought, with credible excuses to persuade Jen that she too was tired, and with looking forward to a busy day tomorrow, a good night's sleep would benefit them both.

With a slight, but smug smile on her face, Jen had listened with every appearance of attentiveness to his reasons for getting an early night and at the end, she had meekly said "Yes, dear," and allowed Harm to shepherd her upstairs at only a few minutes past ten.

Harm gallantly let Jen take the first turn in the bathroom before he made his own hasty preparations and then clad in fresh boxers and a clean t-shirt, he lifted the duvet an crawled into bed, barley managing a "Goodnight, sweetheart" to Jen before his head hit the pillow and he went out like a light.

Jen half turned on her side, a fond smile on her lips, "Goodnight, sweetheart," she whispered and leaning over kissed him lightly on the cheek.

An answering smile appeared on Harm's sleeping face, and with an indulgent sigh, Jen turned off her bedside light and settled down to get as much sleep as possible until her daughter kicked her out of bed and into the bathroom.


	88. Red Twenty-Four On Three

**Chapter 88  
>Red Twenty-Four on Three<strong>

It was a two-car convoy that departed on the ten minute drive from Annandale Road to Roberts' Park in the middle of Falls Church, just short of midday on Monday, with Jen and Harm in the Lexus and Loren and Tuna in the Escort.

Bearing in mind that the approach road to the park was a residential street and also of course the Admiral's strictures on considerate parking, it took a few minutes to find parking spots for both cars. Loren managed it first, the smaller Ford fitting into a space where the Lexus had no chance, so by the time Harm had parked up and helped Jen down from the passenger seat of the bigger vehicle, Loren and Tuna had extricated Sasha from her car seat and were waiting patiently for Harm and Jen to join them.

With Harm's refusal to let Jen carry anything and Loren fully occupied with pushing Sasha's stroller it was left to Ham and David to carry picnic blankets and the contributions Jen and Loren had made to the meal. Their arrival at the designated spot in the park caused some interest, Harriet supervised the loading of the picnic tables, already it seemed groaning under the weight of the food contributed mostly, it must be said, by the married personnel of JAG, but with some less complicated offerings brought by single staff members, while nearby Mac who, sitting on the grass, looked up from where she was mock rough-housing with A J Roberts, the toddler happily giggling while squirming to get free of the hand pinning him down, "Who's that with the Rabbs?" she said over her shoulder.

Harriet, in the middle of explaining to Jo Pearson that she had added 'a secret family ingredient' to her potato salad, broke off what she was saying and craned her neck to look back over her shoulder, "Oh… that must Tuna… Lieutenant Medwick." A slight frown creased her forehead as she turned more fully to face the oncoming two couples, and Mac, "I'm surprised you don't remember him, ma'am. He was a witness at Lieutenant Hawkes' court-martial a couple of years back… the one you prosecuted…"

Mac nodded as belated recognition dawned, "Yes, of course! He just looks so different out of uniform!" Mac's memory failure was understandable; the only previous time she had seen David Medwick was in his best Service Dress Blue, a far cry from the faded stone-wash jeans and the sweatshirt he wore for the picnic. The fact that he was loaded down with a wicker basket, diaper bag and picnic blanket wasn't exactly an aide-mémoire as far as the Marine officer was concerned.

Of course, Mac wasn't the only member of JAG to notice Loren's escort. Carolyn Imes broke off her conversation with Babs Saunders, and hurried across to greet the new arrivals, "Loren, I am so glad you could make it! And Alexandra!" She dropped to her knee beside the stroller and smiled at Sasha, who regarded her solemnly with bright blue eyes, "You get more beautiful every time I see you!" she told the uncaring infant, and then with a slight shrug, she smiled up at Loren, "And she's so much bigger and in such a short time! It's almost frightening!"

Dusting off the knee of her jeans, she climbed to her feet and extended a hand, "And you must be David! Hi, I'm Carolyn!"

David who had been carefully briefed as to who was who recognised the name and took the offered hand, "Good morning, ma'am!" he answered.

"Oh, no! Not ma'am, not today! And that goes for you too Legalman One!" she added with a twinkle in her eye.

"Oh, if you're going to be Carolyn for the day, then I'd best be Jen," Jen smiled, but then a look of almost comic caution came over her face as she hastily scanned the assemblage, "Unless of course any of the Admirals are around!"

"Even if they were, I don't think any of them would mind!" Carolyn grinned, "You look well. In fact, I'd say that being pregnant suits you!"

Jen just looked at Carolyn for a long few seconds and then said, "I know you mean well, and you think you're saying the right thing! But I can't wait for the next three months to be over and done with!"

Loren grinned at Carolyn's sudden confusion and Jen's exasperation, "She's right you know Carolyn, in some ways it's a huge thrill to know you've got a little person growing inside you, but at the same time, the backache, swollen ankles and all the rest of it!"

"God yes!" Harriet Sims had crossed from the table and although she smiled beatifically, it was plain that she was also recalling some of the less than pleasant moments of her pregnancy, "Does anyone remember," she asked with a grin, "the day my feet hurt so much that the Commander pushed me to the break room in my swivel chair? Or the day the elevator broke down again, and I just couldn't face the stairs… he carried me all the way up to the third floor, and I was like an elephant then!"

A ring of female faces turned towards Harriet and after an exchange of appalled glances, Harm and David edged out of the growing crowd and picked a spot to relive themselves of their burden, and to more or less set up camp, in Harm's case laying claim to one of the picnic table and double bench set-ups, claiming priority on behalf of Jen's figure, which made sitting on the ground out of the question.

The womenfolks hadn't been the only ones to spot the late arrivals Commander Samuel Baxter, talking to Captain Mike Lawson, the OIC Security Detachment, paused in detailing his plans for winning an acquittal for Commander Lindsey, and frowned in the direction of the Rabb party, his eyes taking on a malicious spark as he saw Harm loaded down with the picnic paraphernalia, "Just look at that," he sneered, "Rabb, pussy-whipped to all hell!"

Mike Lawson wasn't a Harmon Rabb fan, to any great extent. He kept himself mostly to himself and did his job of running the security detachment, and let the shiny-assed squid shysters get on with their own work, but even so he frowned, well aware that Baxter had just used disrespectful words towards a brother officer, something that jarred his ramrod stiff spine.

"How do you mean, sir?" he asked with stiff disapproval.

Baxter, who unknown to Lawson, had, in defiance of the signs posted around the park perimeter clearly stating that no alcoholic beverages were allowed, had been taking nips from a bourbon-filled hip-flask and missed the disapproval in the Marine Captain's voice. Nodded in Harm's direction as the latter set out the contents of the picnic basket on the food serving table and arranged his and Jen's gear on the table he had selected under the shelter of one of the park's spreading white oak trees.

"Well, look it! Rabb's doing all the lifting and carrying, setting out the food, setting the table, and all his scrawny little blonde wife is doing is gossiping with the rest of the womenfolks, while Rabb does women's work! Not that I eve expected anything better of him. He always was a pussy!"

Lawson looked at the burly attorney with dawning dislike in his eyes. Apart from being wary of even apparently condoning behaviour that was liable to action under the UCMJ, good manners ought have prevented Baxter from venting his spleen in public, and ordinary caution ought to have prevented him from venting to a junior office, and even if Lawson did keep himself to himself, he was well aware that Commander Rabb's wife was the remarkably pretty brunette, and not the acerbic blonde, who eighteen months ago had shot him down in flames when he had attempted to ask her for a date. Not that he bore a grudge. His philosophy in life was simple, life knocked you down every once in a while, so you got up, dusted yourself off, and started all over again and these days, he silently reflected, the dust had settled nicely, thank you very much, and his current relationship with the Army Nurse Lieutenant from the Walter Reed was progressing very nicely. It was just a shame that she had pulled duty today. A slight shake of his head brought him back to the here and now, and with a curt nod of his head, he said to Baxter, "If it suits him, sir, it doesn't really seem to be any of our never-mind, does it? And if you'll excuse, me I need to go speak with my First Sergeant; now that everyone seems to be here, we need to get this game underway!"

Baxter watched him go and shook his head in a pitying way, it seemed like Rabb had got half the men as well as all the women in Jag licking his shoes. With a disgusted snort, he dipped his hand into his pocket, and retrieving his flask, took another consolatory nip of bourbon.

First Sergeant Danny Kowalski – 'Ski' to his friends started to draw himself up to a brace as he saw his OIC approaching, but Lawson waved him off, and said to the two other Staff NCOs with whom Kowalski was talking, "If you'll excuse us, First Sergeant, walk with me a minute, by your leave, Mrs Kowalski, of course?"

"Of course, Captain Lawson," Janet Kowalski smiled.

Permission granted by his wife, Ski replied, "Aye, aye, sir!" and turning, fell in on his OIC's left flank.

Once they had walked a few yards Lawson turned his head to look at the detachment's First Shirt, "You got the team rosters for the game?"

"Sure do, Sir."

"Commander Baxter playing for the Squids?"

"Yes, sir! Running back on offence and middle linebacker on defence."

"H'mm… and who have we got in our line?"

"Gunny Waters is nose guard and centre, the Hernandez brothers are defensive tackles and offensive guards…"

"Brothers? When did that happen?" Lawson asked in some surprise and with a tinge of annoyance, "How come I didn't know we had a new arrival?"

"Uh, strictly speaking he's not ours, sir! He's a Staff Sergeant up at Eighth and I, but he and our Hernandez both played on the line in high school, and they've played for pretty much every unit they've been posted to. They're used to playing together, and besides, it ain't easy find two guys big enough to line up alongside Gunny Waters!"

"So… he's a ringer?"

"No way, sir! The squids know about him, and are happy for him to play. Besides they've got their own secret weapon. That Commander Baxter you were asking about? He played linebacker for the academy as a middy, and from what I've been able to gather, he was his senior year's MVP against West Point!"

Lawson nodded, although he was keen that the detachment should keep up their winning streak against the JAGs he didn't want accusing fingers pointing at his guys or accusing voices yelling 'cheat!'

"Okay, who are our ends?"

"Sergeant Winters and Corporal Adams, sir."

"Sounds good… but I thought… no… never mind, I probably don't want to know, do I?"

"Probably not, sir!" Ski grinned conspiratorially.

"Ah… well… the point of all these questions is that I don't believe that anyone would take it amiss if Commander Baxter was given a… fairly robust game!" Lawson returned his First Sergeant's grin. "So… let's get this game underway!"

Returning to the centre of the group, Kowalski produced a whistle and blew a shrill blast, followed by his stentorian yell "Attention on deck! Teams, come and get your uniforms!" and threw open a wickerwork hamper. He was almost immediately surrounded by a score or so of men and cries of "Corps!" or "JAG" rose on the air and as the mass boke up, individual players could be seen pulling on red or blue t-shirts, stripping off jogging bottoms and jeans and tucking bright yellow flags into the waistband of their shorts.

Jen, by now sat on the bench next to Harm had glared at him when the whistle blew as if to say 'don't you dare', but then had relaxed as he showed no signs of wanting to join the press but then gasped in surprise, "That's _Tiner_!"

"Yeah, it is," he answered in an unruffled manner.

"Oh, Harm, what's he doing playing, he's going to get himself hurt!"

Harm leaned back and slipped an arm around Jen's shoulder, "You aren't giving Mister Tiner enough credit, Jen. He was a damn' good player in High School, apparently, and for the last two seasons he's been the starting wide receiver for Georgetown. So he's out there today as that and as a corner back for the defence."

Jen's forehead creased in a frown, she wasn't a follower of football at any level, but she had, over the years picked up some basic knowledge of the game, "How can that be? How can he play in two positions?"

"Simple. We don't have enough guys for an offensive and defensive team for either side, so they'll be playing 'Iron Man' football, with the same players on the field all the time, just switching assignments as and when required."

"They're going to get killed!" Jen protested.

Harm shook his head again, "Nope, they're only playing two quarters…"

Jen subsided, the worst of her anxieties banished by her husband's explanation but then bolted upright as a new voice assailed her ears.

"Yes, only two quarters, Jennifer!" A J Chegwidden had approached unseen from the two couple's blind side, "No, no, don't get up!"" he waved off their instinctive reaction. "I only stopped by for a moment to say hello before I get this upscuddle underway." He smiled and then in a change of subject asked, "How are you doing Jennifer? I mean physically? I know you're doing okay in your new assignment; I'm hearing good things about you from the SecNav, and from Commander Manetti."

Jen bit down on her astonishment, she didn't even know that the SecNav knew her name, but she managed a smile, "I'm doing fine, thank you, Admiral. Getting a little impatient, but no ill effects other than the usual."

A J smiled again, "Good, keep us informed, and if I may, I'll take the liberty of visiting with you once the new Rabb is taken on strength. Lieutenants... good to see you all, and of course Miss Rabb too! Enjoy the afternoon everyone!" and with a final nod, he strolled off towards the field looking for his assistant referees en route.

A few minutes later a second whistle blast drew their attention to Admiral Chegwidden, with Admiral Stiles, Colonel Blakely and Captain Sebring flanking him. "Players! Listen up!" he called. "A reminder of the rules…First this is flag football, so no tackling! A successful tackle is made when the flag is pulled from the ball-carrier's waistband and thrown to the ground and a clear shout of 'tag' is made, loud enough for the referees…" he indicated himself and the other judges, "to hear! Blocking may only be done with the forearms, and only above the waist. Normal scoring applies: Six points for a touch-down, one for the point after and three for a field goal. The referees' word is law!" He paused for an appreciative chuckle, "Now get out there and enjoy yourselves!"

The lecture brought a cheer from the Navy players and a corresponding deep-voiced chorus of "Oorah!" from the red-shirted Marines as the two teams jogged onto the pre-marked field that had been booked nearly a year in advance by JAG HQ.

Harm settled back to watch the fun. It was the same every year; despite AJ's strictures concerning tackling and blocking, there was nearly always a fair amount of mayhem, and it wasn't unusual in the days after the game to see the erstwhile players sporting black eyes or other contusions and for some of them to be holding themselves carefully, or even limping as they resumed their duties at JAG. And he admitted, albeit reluctantly, and only to himself, that Jen's worries had been very real.

His thoughts were distracted by a very young, very soft and very shy sounding voice, "Hello Mister Harm…"

Harm looked down, and his face split in a wide grin, "I only know one person who ever called me that, and that was a little girl called, Dar-Lin… but you can't be her… you're so big!"

"I am Dar-Lin, Mister Harm - Honest!" the girl insisted with a serious look on her face, "But I growed!"

"Well if you really are Dar-Lin," Harm returned, "You'd better get up here and give me a hug!"

"Yes, sir! Mister Harm!" the little girl grinned and scrambled up onto his lap and wound her arms around his neck in a fierce hug.

Jen, although she'd heard of Dar-Lin wasn't fully aware of the facts of the case, but smiled as once again she thought of how good a father Harm was going to be, but it was her turn to have her thoughts interrupted, by a further voice, "I hope you don't mind, Harm. But when she saw you here, nothing would do but for her to come over and say hi."

Harm stood, his arms effortlessly bearing the weight of the nine-year-old as she locked her arms around his neck and her jeans-clad legs round his waist for extra support, "Jackie," he smiled with pleasure, "How are you? Long time, no see!"

"Yes, Christmas at the Roberts!" Jackie Mattoni smiled, and then looking down at the still-seated Jen added, "And you must be Harm's bride! It's Jennifer isn't it?"

"Jen, please!" she smiled up at the attractive red-head.

Harm clapped a hand to his forehead, "My manners! I'm sorry, Jackie… You know Loren, I believe?"

"Indeed I do!" Jackie smiled, although the smile seemed to lose a little of its warmth.

"And David Medwick, an old flying buddy of mine from my days on a squadron! Everybody, this is Jackie Mattoni, Alan's wife, and this little charmer," he squeezed the little girl in his arms, "Is their daughter, Dar-Lin!"

"Mister Medwick, a pleasure," Jackie responded, her smile warming up again.

Loren caught the difference and unseen by the red-head exchanged a rolling-eyed glance with Jen, but in her heart of hearts she knew she couldn't blame the older woman, all Jackie Mattoni had ever had to go on was Loren's pre-pregnancy reputation, and that would have been from her notoriously tight-lipped husband. Talking of which…

"Isn't your husband here?" Loren asked, "Surely he's not on an assignment?"

"No, he's here!" Jackie said in an exasperated voice, "The idiot's out there playing ball again, just as if he was still twenty years old and still in college! I swear, if he comes home with so much as a bump on him…" she suddenly broke off with a guilty look at Dar-Lin, who fortunately hadn't picked up on the implicit threat in her adopted mother's voice, and who had witnessed and experienced far too much domestic violence at the hands of her real mother's sadistic boyfriend.

"He's our star quarterback and corner back," Harm explained for Jen and Loren's benefit, and then turned back to Jackie, "If he's abandoned you for the duration, come and join us?" he invited. "There's plenty of room!"

Jackie hesitated for a moment, "Are you sure I won't crowd you?"

"Not at all!" David cut in, "Loren and I like being crowded!"

To her horror, Loren felt the blood rush to her face at his words as David hooked an arm around her waist and drew her closer to him, leaving, as Harm had said, plenty of room for Jackie and Dar-Lin on the bench.

The sound of yet another whistle distracted the attention of the spectators and Loren gave silent thanks that all eyes were drawn to the field before anyone could comment on her red face.

The Marine team had won the toss and elected to receive the ball from the kick off, and now both teams lined up at the Corp's thirty-two yard line for the first down.

Baxter looked ahead, identifying PFC Hamilton as the quarterback, his target if the first down turned out to be a passing play, and the two running backs, one of whom would be his target for a rushing play. Of course to do that he'd have to break through the line of scrimmage, and for a moment the thought of tangling with the massive nose tackle, or his two almost equally as big guards brought a shiver to his spine. But big as the opposition were, this was flag football, so despite the lack of body armour, he was confident that he could brush them aside, after all he would have his own bulk, speed, experience and expertise on his side.

Hamilton lined up in the 'I' position behind the huge centre and called the audible, "Red twenty-four on three – hut! Hut! Hut!"

And the game was in motion, Baxter sprinted forward, his eyes on Hamilton, only to go from full speed to a crashing stop as three hundred plus pounds of red t-shirted wall in the shape of Muddy Waters smashed into his chest. The impact not only stopped him, but sent him flying backwards, with every ounce of wind knocked out of him. For long, agonising seconds he imitated a dying fly as he twitched and strained for breath, eventually sucking enough air into his abused lungs to sit and then roll to his hands and knees and eventually pull himself upright just in time to hear Admiral Chegwidden roar, "Flag on the play! False Start Offense, End! Ten yard penalty. Second and twenty!"

The next play, much to the Navy team's surprise turned out to be a rush, Hamilton handed off to the half-back – Corporal Jethro Baxter, who adroitly avoided the defensive linemen and made a gain of eighteen yards, before Jason Tiner snatched the flag from his belt. This time, Commander Baxter had received a shoulder to shoulder block from Raoul Hernandez that made him feel that it had come perilously near fracturing his collar-bone.

So it went on. The Marines' three inner linesman made it seem that their life's work was to neutralise the self-proclaimed hot-shot Navy footballer. Every play one, or even two, of them took on the self-appointed task of shutting Baxter out of the game. Not only did that frustrate the African-American attorney, but he was beginning to realise that his body, despite his keeping in shape, just couldn't stand the sort of hammering that he once used to laugh off.

The four referees easily saw and understood what was happening, but the Hernandez brothers and Muddy Waters although stretching the spirit of the rules were being very careful not to break the letter of them. A hurried side-line conference between AJ and Colonel Blakely confirmed that for now their biggest worry was the concern that Commander Baxter might lose his temper with the hammering he was getting and retaliate too violently. "If he does, I'll throw him out of the game!" Colonel Blakely declared.

"No, best not," A J demurred, "You had better leave that to me… it would look better if it was another sailor that ejected him!"

Blakely looked mutinous for a moment but then relaxed, "You're right of course, sir."

"Of course I am!" A J confirmed with a wolfish grin, "I'm the JAG!"

The Marines' defensive skills were as impenetrable as their offence and although when the whistle went for half-time the scores were tied at six – six, the Navy's points had come from a pair of field goals, while the Marines celebrated the only touchdown of the game so far.

Harm took advantage of the interval to excuse himself from the table and stroll over to the next table where Bud, Harriet and Mac sat with little AJ and with Babs Saunders and Jo Pearson. Harm took the chance to abduct his godson from Mac's lap and in answer to the preschooler's demands to 'play airplane, Uncle Harm!" swung the laughing child in a wide circle, warning him to 'fly the ball' as he brought him down for a gentle two-point landing at his 'Auntie Mac's' feet.

"So… who are you cheering for today, Mac?" he grinned as plumped down on the bench next to the Mac, who resplendent in a scarlet t-shirt replete with a stencilled USMC and the Eagle, Globe and Anchor, just grinned and said "Oorah!"

"Yeah, I thought you might!" Harm smiled and relaxed back against the table.

Silence reigned for a moment or two until Harriet could no longer retrain her curiosity, "Umm… sir? I'm about to go and hold an impromptu MMA meeting with Jen and Lieutenant Rabb, but I don't want to put my foot in it by asking a dumb question, so…Are Lieutenant Rabb and… and… Lieutenant Medwick…?"

"MMA meeting?" harm queried.

"Um… yeah…" Harriet flashed an almost guilty look at Bud, "The… uh… Mom's Mutual Aid Society… it's just an informal thing that Jen, Loren and I cooked up…" she placed a gentle hand on her stomach as she spoke, and her smile softened until it held a dreamy quality, but then her smile was replaced by a quizzical look, "But you haven't answered my question, sir!" she complained.

Harm grinned, "Nope, and I'm not going to! If you want to know the answer to that question, you're going to have to ask Loren and David!"

Harriet stared at him in disbelief, "Oooh men!" she complained, although with laughing eyes, "You're all impossible!"

"Hey," Harm replied easily, "Why be difficult when with just a little more effort you can be impossible! Ain't that right Bud!"

Bud almost choked, "Oh no! You are not dragging me into agreeing with you on that! Not while I'm sat right next to Harriet" he expostulated.

"Chicken!" Mac grinned.

"Damn straight!" Bud agreed placidly.

Harm gave up, "If you're bound and determined on asking, Harriet, allow me to walk you over!"

In retrospect, Harm realised that bringing Harriet over was a mistake, the instant she arrived and sat down, the four women put their heads together, freezing Harm and David out of the conversation, that carried on just as enthusiastically when the whistle blew for the start of the game.

The pattern of the first half continued with the Marines completely shutting down Commander Baxter, whether he played defence as the middle linebacker, or the offence as a running back. It was noticeable too that he was slower to get back on his feet after each hit, and he was slower getting around the field. So noticeable was the effect of the numerous collisions he'd suffered that Alan Mattoni ended up either handing off rushing plays to Yeoman Second Class Harris, or concentrated on passing plays to his receivers. The latter option proved beneficial as a hook pattern run by Jason Tiner ended with the only Navy touchdown of the afternoon, but that together with their three field goals for a total of fifteen points, was just enough to edge out the Marines twelve points resulting from one touchdown and two field goals. None of the attempted points after having borne fruit.

The two teams, both pretty well tired, and some nursing temporary injuries that had them limping, while others bore bruises and abrasions as evidence of the physical nature of the game straggled off the field to the applause of the audience.

Harm wasn't the only one to note that in the general back-slapping and congratulations shared between the two teams on the conclusion of a hard-fought game Baxter declined to take part, and instead stalked, somewhat stiffly, away to where his outer street clothes lay, strewn across a bench.

A J Chegwidden also observed Baxter's actions, and his eyes narrowed as he thought he saw Baxter take a hip flask from his jacket and take a swallow from it, before he had even stripped off his sweat soaked and muddied t-shirt. That decided him. No matter how brilliant Baxter's courtroom performance might be, he had heard of the man's animosity towards Rabb, and now his lack of self-discipline and his surly attitude towards the other players, even his own team mates, decided the former SEAL that Baxter had no permanent place waiting for him at JAG HQ.

Harriet as the OIC logistics for the day gave the players ten minutes to catch their breath and then, with a whistle snaffled from Gunny Waters, and incidentally saving him from a lecture about his bullying from his wife, she blew a shrill blast to attract everyone's attention and with a grin she called out "Okay, people, hit the chow line!"

Harm and Jen with Loren and David were quite content to sit back for a few minutes and sip their cans of soda or bottles of water while they waited for the line to shrink to more manageable proportions, but eventually the two men got to their feet and returned to the table, David carrying two plates of sliced ham, cold fried chicken, sliced beef, pastrami and similar, while Harm bore two plates groaning under a load of assorted salads, including, as Harm had made sure, ample helpings of Harriet Sims' special potato salad.

Sasha however, certainly didn't like her first taste of mayonnaise and was only too happy to consume three teaspoons of puréed carrots before Jen and David rigged one of the picnic blankets to allow Loren to offer her breast to Sasha. Jen remarking with a mischievous smile, "Ah… Sasha's first picnic!"

Loren looked up startled, but smiled, "Yeah, and thank God by the time the next picnic season come around, she'll be on solids! I swear she's got a tooth coming through already!"

Jen winced, "Ouch!" she exclaimed in sympathy. Her own swollen breasts were now so tender that Harm had to be very careful not to accidentally hurt her, and the very thought of even a baby-tooth biting her nipples was blood curdling.

"Why did Mrs Harm say ouch!?" an innocent Dar Lin asked Jackie.

"Umm… I think she got bitten by a bug!" Jackie floundered slightly and looked across at Alan Mattoni, who had joined them after the game.

"Hey," he answered with a grin, while peering through one swollen eye at his wife and daughter, "Don't get me involved in this! I've had my share of combat for the day!"

"Yeah, it was a pretty brutal game," Harm agreed willingly helping to change the subject in order to spare Loren's blushes, "But what did Baxter do to tick-off the Marines like that? I swear Gunny Waters and his two henchmen had him marked out from the start!"

"Don't know and don't care the arrogant son of a… son of gun's been asking for that sort of treatment from the day he arrived!" Alan declared, adroitly changing his phraseology half-way through his sentence in deference to the presence of the females, whether adult or child at the table.

The quiet buzz of conversation dominated for a while, punctuated occasionally by a crack of laughter as someone told a joke or a funny story, and it was exceptionally quiet at the Rabb table as after being burped, Sasha gave every indication of falling asleep. Gently buckling her in to her stroller, Loren made sure that her daughter was wrapped up snuggly and then quite unselfconsciously made herself equally snug with her back pressed against David's chest and his arms covering hers as they were folded in front of her chest.

For a moment or two they were the picture of romantic peacefulness until Loren scowled and poked her tongue at Jen as a mischievous grin crossed her face and she began to chant softly, "Loren and David sitting 'neath a tree…"

"Gonna get you for that!" Loren promised lazily.

"Yeah, yeah, promises, promises" Jen smiled and waited until Loren had relaxed back against David, her head resting in the hollow of his shoulder, a smile of bliss on her face, and a matching smile on his face. Jen's hand stole stealthily to her pocket and she quietly fished out her point and shoot digital camera and fired off three quick frames before David looked up or Loren opened her eyes.

Quick as she had been, her actions hadn't gone unnoticed by David, who looked up and said, "I'd like a copy of one of those, of it could be done?"

"Of course," Jen told him.

**lxxxviii-lxxxviii-lxxxviii-lxxxviii-lxxxviii**

Harm lay on his back on the bed, his fingers clasped behind his head as he watched a t-shirt clad Jen blow dry her hair and brush it out in long gleaming strands. "I haven't taken you out for a while," he mused, "How would you like to go out to dinner tomorrow?"

"Oh! Isn't that just like a man?" Jen half-laughed and half-scolded as she turned the dryer off for a moment or two. "There is no way I can go out tomorrow night. Firstly it's a school night, secondly I haven't, literally haven't, got anything that I can get into that's fit to be seen anywhere! And thirdly, have you forgotten we're baby-sitting Sasha gain tomorrow night?!"

Harm sat upright, "No, I hadn't forgotten that we were supposed to be baby-sitting Sasha tomorrow night. Because nobody told me we were baby-sitting Sasha tomorrow night!"

"Yes we did!" Jen defended herself, "It was all arranged today at the game. We were all sat at the table and you…" Jen's voice died away and she shot a very guilty look over her shoulder at her grimly smiling husband, "Uh… actually, when we discussed it, you were away talking to Bud and Harriet and the Commander Saunders and that other blonde…" she finished guiltily.

Harm relaxed back against the headboard, "Well it's a good job then that I love Sasha almost as much as I love you, isn't it? So, if you've finished messing with your hair, why don't you come over here and give your very loving and very forgiving husband a kiss?"

"H'mm, Jen smiled, "I knew there was a catch in it!"


	89. All's Fair

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 89  
>All's Fair<strong>

"This is not good!" Harm muttered as he edged the Lexus through the press of bodies that swarmed the JAG parking lot.

Loren looked around at the bright logos on the broadcast vans that crowded the parking lot, snakes of cable meandering from the vehicles to disappear into the throng of people, only to re-appear attached to cameras, lights and microphones, and nodded her head in agreement.

Harm more or less bull-dozed the SUV into his allocated parking spot, gently nudging the obstructing bodies, who showed little inclination to move except under duress, out of his way, until, contrary to his normal practice, he parked nose-in against the wall, rather than backing in as he normally did.

Dismounting from the vehicle, both he and Loren straightened their Service Dress Jackets, this was the first morning that the wearing of winter uniforms resumed, and with a wry grimace at each other, they began to shoulder their way through the crowd of reporters, cameramen and sound recorders, Harm unashamedly using his height and weight to break trail while Loren, somewhat nervously tucked in closed behind him.

The sight of their uniforms seemed to spark of a feeding frenzy, as a battery of microphones was thrust in Harm's face and voices rose in a confusion of yelled questions.

"…CBX News, Commander, are you involved in this…"

"Talia Fox, ABN, Commander Rabb, can you tell us what charges…"

"For ZNN News, Commander Rabb, can you comment on rumours that…"

And so it went on. Harm merely gritted his teeth, concentrated on forcing a path for himself and Loren through the crowd, and merely gritted "No comment!" to each question.

Despite his bulk and determination, Harm was nearly brought to a standstill by the weight of the bodies surrounding him and was relieved to see two of the larger Marines from Gunnery Sergeant Waters' platoon, run down the steps from the building and begin to open a path for him and Loren. Taken by surprise by the pressure from behind, reporters and technicians gave way, leaving a path for Harm and Loren to the steps.

"Good morning, Sir, ma'am!" PFC Donahue, managed with a cheerful grin, and given the circumstances, a creditable salute.

"Good morning, Donahue... and thank you!" Harm grinned in relief as he returned the Marine's salute before he turned to make sure that Loren had made it to the steps in safety.

Harm grinned as the door of the building swung shut behind him and turned to Loren, "Well, that was different!"

Loren nodded, "Yes, sir. And just a little…"

"Scary?" Harm supplied as Loren searched for the right word.

"No! Not scary! Just a little… disconcerting!" she spat, fixing him to the spot with an icy glare, "It would take more than a rabble of reporters to scare me!"

Harm nodded towards the end of the lobby where a door led to the private world of the security detachment, a squad of USMC MPs, stood at ease while Muddy Waters spoke to Sergeant 'Julie' Andrews, who nodded as she listened, the nightstick in her right hand tapping the palm of her free hand in time with her nods.

"Incoming, Gunny!" Donahue called from his vantage point just inside the double doors, and Muddy Waters with a last word to Sergeant Andrews, strode past Harm and Loren with a brusque, "Good morning, sir, ma'am; by your leave!" and joined Donahue at the door.

"Colonel MacKenzie!" he grunted, and settled back on his heels with an expression of fierce satisfaction on his face.

Harm stepped up to the door, anxious for his long-term partner's safety, only to see Mac stop as she was accosted by the first reporter to reach her, and then in front of his disbelieving eyes, the crowd parted, not quite as quickly perhaps as the Red Sea had parted for the Israelites, but certainly swiftly enough so as not to impede her progress from car to building.

Reaching the steps unaided, she trotted up them, calmly returning the salutes of the two marines posted there, and reached for the door handle just as Gunny Waters opened the door for her.

"Good morning, ma'am!" he snapped, offering her a crisp salute.

Mac's glance took in his waist belt, signifying that notionally he was under arms, which explained why he wore his cover indoors, and returned the salute, "Good morning, Gunny, Commander, Lieutenant!" she added as she saw her two colleagues hovering a few feet away.

Harm watched her walk to towards the CP desk. "How in the hell did she do that?" he inquired of no-one in particular.

Gunny Waters chuckled, "The Colonel is a Marine, sir, and has command presence!" the man-mountain rumbled.

Harm stood back to allow Mac and then Loren to sign in noticing that despite the cheerful manner in which Staff Sergeant Hernandez issued them their building passes, all three officers were immediately aware of an atmosphere of tense anticipation occasioned by the presence of the media that pervaded the lobby, much as the bruise, partially covered by a Band-Aid on Hernandez' face marred his cheerful smile, while at the same time he was being studiously ignored by Corporal Somers.

Harm grinned in sympathy, and with the slightest nod at the Corporal's stiff back, said in a conspiratorial manner and only just loud enough to reach the Staff NCO's ear, "The price of defeat, Staff Sergeant?"

Hernandez drew himself up to a brace, half-grinned and responded with a crisp, "Sir! Yessir!"

"And what was all that about?" Loren demanded once she, Mac and Harm were safely in the elevator and heading up to the Ops level.

Harm chuckled, "It looked to me like Somers was giving Hernandez the cold shoulder because of that mouse on his cheek! So I asked, and he confirmed it!"

Loren shook her head in disbelief, "You men and your damned speaking in code! And then you wonder we women have problems understanding you!"

Harm was about to reply but then saw that Mac had also fixed him with a cynical stare and instead of answering, he fell into a dignified but offended silence and pointedly stared straight ahead, only for the back of his neck and his ears to burn as Mac commended, "He's so cute, when he sulks, don't you think, Lieutenant?"

Loren's voice barely restrained a giggle as she replied, "Ma'am, yes, ma'am!"

Amusement and embarrassment alike were banished as soon as they quit the elevator and entered the bull pen. The level of tension was so high that Harm was vaguely surprised that he couldn't see it crackling through the atmosphere. He exchanged a glance with Loren and Mac and said "Coffee?" making the one word a suggestion.

The two women nodded, and Harm added, "In that case, I'll just drop off my things and I'll get the coffees!"

The galley was already occupied by Carolyn Imes and Babs Saunders, the latter smiled as he walked in "Just in time!" she nodded as the coffee maker gave its characteristic gurgle as the last of the water was siphoned from the reservoir into the filter and then into the coffee jug.

"'Morning, Harm. You made it through enemy lines okay, then?" Carolyn grinned as she poured a splash of creamer into her mug.

"Only just! Harm grinned, "If it hadn't been for Loren backing me up, and PFC Donahue, I figure we'd still be under siege out there! But the damndest thing…" he shook his head ruefully as he added sugar and creamer to Mac and Loren's mugs, "Just after we made it through, Mac arrived and just strolled through the crowd like they weren't even there!"

"Ah…" Carolyn nodded wisely, "She is a marine after all, and Marines have…"

"Yeah, I know, command presence!" Harm finished wryly for her.

Babs chuckled and bit her lip, "This is all to do with the Lindsey case, so I feel a little responsible…"

Harm took a sip of his coffee before placing it on one of the plastic trays along with Mac and Loren's mugs, and then shook his head, "What is it about these people, all this fuss about a grubby little trial, about a grubby little man."

"Prurience," Carolyn answered him, "A sex scandal in the Pentagon… It's not big news, perhaps, but it's what these small-minded censorious types love to hear and read about. It either titillates them, or makes them feel superior."

"The thing is Carolyn, it is a big story," Babs contradicted both the other officers, "In the wake of Tailhook, and the rape cover-up scandal at the Air Force Academy this isn't just a grubby little sex scandal in Dead Man's Hollow, where the mayor ran off with the preacher's wife. This is a sex scandal in the Pentagon, and it could have consequences far beyond titillation – oh, I'm not denying that on some levels you are both right, but cases like this give an excuse for anti-military politicians in both houses the chance to stand up, beat their gums about the forces being unworthy of the trust which is placed in them, and then use that as an argument for voting against appropriations for the military. Oh, I'm sorry, maybe I've gotten too close to the case…"

Carolyn and Harm looked at Babs and then exchanged a rueful glance. The other officer was right, and Carolyn and Harm had both been guilty of looking at only the superficial aspects of the case. "No, no you're right, and we weren't paying enough attention to the ramifications…" Carolyn began while Harm nodded his head in agreement.

**lxxxix-lxxxix-lxxxix-lxxxix-lxxxix**

A J Chegwidden finished hearing progress reports and handing out new cases, but instead of rising to his feet and ordering their dismissal, he glared at the officers assembled round the conference table, fixing each of them in turn with a piercing dark-eyed stair, his face set in grim lines.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I take this opportunity to remind you that you are not just attorneys. You are attorneys, Judge Advocates, of the United States Navy, and as such are held to higher standards of behaviour than civilian attorneys, or indeed non-JAG officers of the United States Navy. Now, I don't pretend to know how law is practiced in small-town Illinois, or small town Idaho, or… or… or… small town anywhere, but what I do know is the way law will be practiced in JAG Corps, and throughout the Navy, and that does not include grandstanding for the press on the courthouse steps! Do I make myself clear?"

The murmur of agreement was evidently not what the former Seal want to hear, as his face empurpled and the veins in his neck rose, "I said, do I make myself clear?"

This time the chorus of "Sir, Yessir!" would have gladdened the heart of any Parris Island DI.

Chegwidden glared at assemblage again, and it seemed to Harm that this time around his gaze rested in Commander Baxter a few seconds longer than it did on any of the other officers present, until eventually with a sniff that could have meant anything the Admiral got to his feet, "Dismissed!"

The clatter of chair legs on the hardwood floor greeted his order as his officers surged to their feet and as one waited for their CO and his Yeoman to quit the room before they followed suit. Harm, found himself walking back towards the bull pen with Carolyn on his left and Loren on Carolyn's left.

"What was all that about?" Loren asked.

"What? Oh, the lecture on standards of behaviour?" Carolyn grinned, but then continued before Loren could answer, "It appears that friend Baxter arrived early this morning, and gave an impromptu press conference on the front steps. His main contention was that Teddy Lindsey was a kind-hearted officer, with the best interests of his subordinates at heart, and that he was grossly misunderstood and slash or maligned by a coteries of female officers whom, he hinted, had some sort of hidden feminist agenda."

"Grandstanding, huh?" Harm mused, "Is that his style? Well, the Old Man definitely won't like that!"

"And he'll like it even less, if he hears you refer to him as that!" Mac's voice came from behind them.

"Christ, Mac! Don't do that! You're like to give a body a heart attack!" Harm complained.

"Which is nothing to what the Admiral will give you if he ever hears you call him the 'Old Man'!" Mac replied.

"Okay, okay… point taken!" Harm grinned, "Is there something else you can do for me, Colonel?"

"Why, I do believe there is!" Mac said in a honeyed voice. "How about you and me getting together over a cup of coffee, and discussing the plea bargain for this Gitmo case we've just been handed?"

"What to discuss?" Harm shrugged. "NCIS included the video tape of the incident. It quite clearly shows four of the guards entering the cell, trying to drag the inmate out, and when he resisted they beat him until he died."

Mac frowned, "On the surface, yes. But I've got a feeling that there's more to this than meets the eye… Harm, I really think we do need to discuss this, can we meet later?"

Harm looked at his watch, "Okay… make it eleven hundred hours, that should give me time to clear some of my desk, and it's your turn to make the coffee!"

Mac nodded, turning away as she spoke, "You've got a deal, sailor! Now, if you'll excuse me, I've also got a desk that needs tidying!"

Harm blinked, remembering all too well, the Tower of Pisa like stacks that occupied every available surface in Mac's office, "Yeah, riiight!" he drawled, drawing an over the shoulder withering look from Mac.

Harm returned to his desk and laying the problematical Guantanamo Bay folder to one side, he worked solidly for half an hour, swiftly disposing of the files on which he merely had to sign off, and prioritising the other folders that then remained in his in-try. His concentration was disturbed however by a rap on his door frame and the sight of Yeoman Two Martin clutching a large brown envelope in her hand.

"Yes?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Your pardon, sir, but Tiner gave me this to hand to you. It's addressed to the office, sir, but marked for your attention…" her voice trailed off as she reddened under his scrutiny.

"Thank you Yeoman Two," Harm smiled in an effort to put the edgy young woman at her ease, but then again, practically everyone was on edge this morning, the atmosphere on the bull pen no less tense than it had been when he, Mac and Loren had first arrived this morning.

Martin's blush increased in intensity as she handed the envelope over and with a convulsive effort, she cleared her throat, "By your leave, sir?"

"What? Oh… yes, dismissed!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Martin replied and then fled almost precipitously.

Harm shook his head and then turned his attention to the envelope, his eyebrow lifting once again as he saw that the despatching unit date stamp was that of the forensics department of the Portsmouth Naval Medical Centre. Picking up his letter opener, a four-inch long scale model of an early nineteenth century naval cutlass, Harm slit the flap and drew out the three sheets of paper contained in the envelope.

The first sheet was the Corpsman's report on the injuries sustained by Seaman Apprentice Farmer the evening she was allegedly attacked by BM Three Oliver. The injuries were listed, and together with the photographs taken on the day by Loren, would in themselves go a long, long, way towards authenticating Farmer's claim of self-defence. The second sheet of paper was the forensics lab report on the clothing that Farmer had worn that night. The blood on the shirt collar and the front of the sweater had all been identified by DNA as belonging to Farmer, but the icing on the cake as far as Harm was concerned was the paragraph of the report stating that epithelials scraped from the breast area of the sweater could, after DNA analysis, have only have come from Bosun's Mate Three Oliver.

The third sheet of paper as just a covering letter from the forensics lab, letting him know that the reports had been copied to the Norfolk Office of NCIS.

With a satisfied smile, Harm dialled Loren's internal number, remembering too late that she was also in court this morning, winding up, so she'd hoped, the trial of the hazing Marines from Quantico. With a grin and shake of his head, he cut the connection and after a moment's thought went to his address book and looked up the number of Norfolk NCIS office.

"_NCIS Norfolk, Special Agent Burley_."

"Good morning, this is Commander Harmon Rabb, Navy JAG Corps, at Falls Church. I'd like to speak with Special Agent McGee, please." No mileage lost in being polite, Harm told himself.

"_I'm sorry, Commander, Agent McGee is out of the office, and is likely to be so for a few days_," Burley said apologetically.

"Damn"" Harm swore quietly, "I wanted to speak with him about the Farmer case!"

"_What Farmer case_?" Burley asked, "_If you're referring to Seaman Apprentice Farmer and her involvement with BM Three Oliver's death, then there is no Farmer case, at least as far as we're concerned. We got a copy of her statement, we have Agent McGee's report on her interview and on Friday we received the forensics reports from Portsmouth. As far as NCIS is concerned, Farmer has no case to answer, she acted in self-defence, and we will not be raising charges_!"

Harm breathed a relieved sigh, "Thank you, Agent Burley… that's the conclusion at which I too had arrived. I'll inform the convening authority!"

"_You'll have to hurry, Commander, as far as I am aware the Wallace is getting up steam, ready to sail!_"

"Damn again! Thanks for that, Agent Burley!" Harm hastily rang off, and scrolling down the screen he found the number for the Wallace and dialled it in.

"_USS Wallace, ComCen_."

"Put me through to the Captain, please," Harm requested.

There was a short silence and then a new voice sounded in Harm's ear, "This is Lieutenant Commander Payne, the Captain is conning the ship out of port and cannot answer the phone, unless you have an operational emergency?"

"No, no operational emergency. This is Commander Rabb at JAG Corps, I need to speak with the skipper about the Farmer case, it's non-urgent, but I would appreciate him calling me, or leaving me a message letting me know when he'll be available."

"_Thank you, sir. I'll see that the Captain gets the message_!"

"Thank you, Commander!"

Harm put the phone down and shook his head, why was it, he asked himself, that when it was bad news, the word sped from mouth to mouth, but when it was good news, everyone suddenly became too busy to hear it? He shook his head again in bemusement and glanced at his watch. It was just coming up to ten twenty hours, so he still had forty minutes before he was due to meet with Mac. A moment's thought decided him, and he was on his feet heading for Courtroom Three to look in on the opening day of the Lindsey case.

As he crossed the bull pen he became aware of one or two curious and not altogether unadmiring glances aimed in his direction, as well, he could have sworn as hearing a hastily stifled giggle. Wondering what had suddenly gotten into everyone, he shook his head and continued on down the hall way towards courtroom three, passing as he did so, two female Yeoman Three's both who snatched a hasty glance at him before adverting their eyes, and once again after Harm had passed them he thought he heard what might have been a giggle.

A sharp glance over his shoulder revealed two faces studiously turned away from him and with a sense of unease he surreptitiously checked his flies, finding to his relief that they were properly fastened. With a frown he paused and half turned making up his mind to demand an explanations, but as he did so the courtroom door a few feet away opened to allow someone to leave, and rather than risk disturbing the court unnecessarily, he slipped in through the rapidly closing gap and into a chair in the rearmost row of seats.

Lieutenant (JG) Jo Pearson was on the stand, and Harm could only suppose that Carolyn had finished her direct as Baxter, striking an attitude in front of the panel had already started his cross-examination.

"…isn't it possible, Lieutenant that you did not, in fact, entirely misunderstood Commander Lyndsey's intentions? And that you entered into a quid pro quo arrangement with him?"

"No! I…"

"Just answer the question, Lieutenant!" Baxter cut the young woman off in a bored tone. "Are you quite sure about that Lieutenant? After all, you have done quite well out of your cosy little arrangement haven't you? An early promotion and a plum billet at Pearl Harbour… a station which I'm quite sure that you are well aware is hotly sought after…"

"No! It wasn't like that!"

"Really? Baxter's eyebrows rose as he drawled his comment, "You would have the panel believe that you were a naïve innocent that fell for the wiles of a wicked older man?"

"Yes… uh... no… I mean…"

"Come, come, now, Lieutenant Pearson, which is it? You were either naïve or you weren't.

"Yes… I was… I believed him when…"

"Which is rather more than you can expect us to believe, is it not, Lieutenant?"

"Objection!" Babs was in her feet. "Badgering the witness, Your Honour!"

Rear Admiral (LH) Stiles Morris leaned forward, his elbow on the bench, "Not only are you badgering the witness, Commander, but I'm having trouble seeing where you are taking your line of questioning! Objection sustained!"

"Yes, Your Honour. I intend to show that despite her protestations of innocence and naivety, that the witness is neither, and that her protestations and indeed her accusations should be viewed in a less… ah… credulous manner…"

Judge Morris looked at Baxter in a manner that Harm, as well as anybody else who knew the man, recognised as distaste, "Move it along, quickly then, Commander!"

"Yes, Your Honour," Baxter smirked. He believed he had overcome the biggest hurdle in getting this witness not only thoroughly discredited, but possibly laying her open to charges of conduct unbecoming.

"Lieutenant you graduated from University of Nebraska with a degree in political science, is that not so?"

"Yes, but…"

"Objection! Irrelevant!" Babs Saunders rose to her feet again.

"If your Honour would grant me just a little more time?" Baxter turned to the bench.

Admiral Morris was clearly not happy but he grudgingly agreed, "Move it along then Commander! But make it quick! Overruled!"

"So, Lieutenant," Baxter turned back to the white-faced young woman on the stand who already had a dreadful inkling of where this was going. "You would have us believe that you were naïve and innocent, yet is it not true that while at College, and a member of the NROTC program there, you made a video tape of yourself and an anonymous male engaging in sexual intercourse?"

"No! I didn't!" A now tearful Jo Pearson almost shouted her denial.

"Really?" Baxter's disbelief was patent and he turned to the defence table and picked up what was obviously a video tape cassette. "Are you going to deny that the woman in this video tape is not you?"

"No…" Jo Pearson wept… "But it wasn't…"

"Just answer the question!" Baxter snapped, cutting off anything Pearson might offer by way of mitigation, and then drew a breath before he sneered, "So you admit, after having denied the fact, that it is you? So, Lieutenant Pearson, having been caught lying over this tape, why should the panel believe your spurious accusations against my client?"

"Objection! Argumentative!" Babs called out with a look of intense dislike at the defence attorney.

"Sustained!" Judge Morris snapped.

"My apologies, Your Honour," Baxter said perfunctorily, "No further questions!" and returned to the defence table where he took his seat alongside an obviously smirking Commander Ted Lindsey.

"Redirect, Your Honour?" Babs Saunders asked.

"Carry on, Commander," Judge Morris

Babs approached the stand, "I understand that this painful, Lieutenant, but could you explain to the panel why you made that tape?"

"I didn't," Pearson gulped, "Yes, the girl in the tape is me, I admit that, and it… it… it does show me in a highly compromising position, but I did not willingly make that tape, and I didn't consent even to having sex that night!"

"Are you saying that you were raped that night?" Babs asked compassionately.

"Yes, ma'am. It was early in my sophomore year, a group of us had gone to a party. I remember having a couple of glasses of punch, and the next thing I knew I woke up, undressed, in my own bed. And then… then… the tape began to be shown around the campus…"

"What was your reaction?"

"I was furious, but whoever shot the tape was careful not let his face be seen on camera. I complained to the college authorities, but as there was no clue to the identity of the man, they said there was nothing they could do."

"I see, and did you tell your parents?"

"No! I was too ashamed… You have to understand, ma'am; I come from a small farming town in Michigan, where my family is well known and where everyone gets to know everyone else's business. If my parents' friends and neighbours had ever found out, it would have killed them!"

Babs turned to Admiral Morris, "Your Honour, given the witness' testimony as to the circumstances surrounding the making of this tape, the prosecution submits that the fact of its existence, brought to the panel's attention for the sole purpose of casting doubt on the witness' probity, be disregarded in its entirety, along with any and all testimony pertaining thereto. After all, your Honour, the witness is not supposed to be on trial here!"

Judge Morris considered for a moment; he was personally outraged by Baxter's tactics, but as a judge he had to maintain balance and let the facts speak for themselves. The easiest way out of the situation would be for the panel to see the tape and judge for themselves, but a shrewd glance at the very scared, very young woman in the witness-box persuaded him that a viewing in open court would achieve very little except utterly humiliate her, destroy her career and possibly destroy the young woman herself. He shook his head before he began to speak, and when he did his voice was gentle, "Commander, I cannot grant your motion. That tape may well be able to resolve conclusively one way or another, the witness' reliability." He shifted his attention to Lieutenant Pearson, "I am sorry to have to do this Lieutenant, but I am afraid that the tape needs to be seen by the panel and by me!"

Jo Pearson shook her head, and in a voice choked by tears she gasped, "Oh, no, sir… please… no…"

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant, I have no other choice. Bailiff, clear the court, and have a video monitor brought in. This court is in recess for fifteen minutes!"

Harm left the courtroom with the rest of the spectators, his mind reeling with disgust at Baxter's tactics. If Baxter felt that he had to discredit the witness, surely to God, he thought there was some other way he could have achieved his object, other than the total humiliation of the girl. Thank God that Babs Saunders was on the ball with her re-direct, otherwise Pearson could quite easily have found herself facing a charge of perjury for denying the tape.

He was distracted from his thoughts by an urgent tug at his sleeve and turning found himself facing a disturbed Babs. "Did you hear all that?" she asked jerking her head in the direction of the courtroom.

"I did!" Harm replied, making no pretence at hiding his disgust.

Babs nodded, "It was pretty low if you ask me! Poor Pearson is practically distraught, but she did manage to give me the name of the Dean at Nebraska University to whom she reported the rape. I can't leave her alone right now, so could you perhaps try to call the college and find out whether they have any record of her complaint? Just to corroborate her testimony. I hate to admit but Baxter has managed to at least partially discredit her!"

Harm, forgetting for the moment his arrangement to meet with Mac took the proffered piece of paper, "I'll get on to it right away! Man, what a slime ball!" he exclaimed.

"Thanks, Harm, I owe you one!" Babs smiled gratefully and leaving him, headed back to the attorney's room opposite the courtroom where Jo Pearson waited anxiously for her.

Harm shouldered his way through the chattering throng, most of them expressing excitement at the courtroom theatrics, but at least some of them audibly regretting that they wouldn't be given the opportunity to see the tape, although from a couple of snatches of overheard cell phone conversations it seemed to Harm that at least two of the reporters were urging their network or newspaper research departments to try to unearth any further copies of the tape.

Disgusted at this further proof of the depths to which some segments of the media would descend, he was further confounded by the pointed looks, sly grins and suffocated giggles that marked his return to the bull pen, irritated almost beyond endurance, he swore to himself that he was going to get to the bottom of this puzzle once he had gotten the information he was after from the University of Nebraska!

Ten minutes later, he was still at his desk with phone pressed to his ear as he was passed from functionary to secretary to personal assistant, until at last, and only by threatening prosecution for hampering a federal investigation, he reached the Dean of the university.

During his wait, he had waved Mac to take a seat in his office, vaguely aware that she had a broad grin plastered across her face, and which with a frown of annoyance he did his best to ignore for the moment while he spoke to Dean Andersen of the University of Nebraska. At length, and to Mac's relief, he said, "Fine, thank you very much Dean. I'm sorry this is at such short notice, but you need to be prepared to be subpoenaed to appear before a Navy Court Martial at Falls Church, Virginia, we're just a few miles outside DC, and yes, the Navy will pick up the bill for transportation and accommodation should it be required. No, it is not certain that you will be called, but my advice to you is to be ready. Yes, thank you, Dean, for your help and your willingness to co-operate. Goodbye!"

"Issuing subpoenas to academia?" Mac grinned, "What case is that?"

"Just helping Babs out," Harm replied and gave Mac a very sketchy and very quick brief as to Baxter's words and actions in court that morning.

Mac's face wrinkled in disgust, "I haven't liked that man since the minute he stepped into the bull pen the day he arrived, and his actions subsequent to his arrival have done nothing to make me change my opinion, but this… this is… low!"

"Agreed!" Harm said, rising to his feet, "So if you'll excuse me, Mac, I need to catch Babs before court re-convenes. I'll be back in five!"

Once again Harm ran the gauntlet of amused, but somehow appraising looks, fleeting glances and broad grins, returning to his office even more perplexed than he had been on the previous occasion.

"I don't get it!" he complained as he slumped into his chair, looking helplessly at Mac.

Mac merely raised on disdainful eyebrow, "You're late," she commented, "You said you'd be back in five minutes; you were gone seven minutes and seventeen seconds!"

"Damn! That's another thing I don't get! I wish I knew how you did that!"

"I told you," Mac smiled, "I have great timing!"

"And there's another thing, I don't get, how come practically every female in the place is smirking at me and giggling at me behind my back! I even checked that my zipper was done up" Harm snapped.

Mac's grin widened, "I take it you haven't been to the galley since you brewed that first mug of coffee?"

"No, I haven't, but what's that got to do… Oh, no…" Harm groaned and buried his head in his hands, "What…?" he began.

"You poor thing," Mac said in mock sympathy, "Perhaps I'd better come with you, just to support you through the shock."

Harm stood in front of the Galley fridge staring in total disbelief at the photograph held against the fridge door by a magnet. There he was in his t-shirt and jean clad glory, lying fast asleep on a carpet that he instantly recognised as belonging to his living room, flat on his back, his head resting on one of the squabs from the couch, a dribble of drool running from the corner of his mouth, while a similar dribble made a wet patch on his t-shirt, courtesy of Miss Alexandra Maria Rabb, who also fast asleep, was gently pinned in place by the pressure of a large hand firmly placed on her back.

For long seconds it appeared to Mac that Harm was about to have a total sense of humour failure, but eventually he saw the funny side, and with a chuckle turned to his long-time friend and said, "I am going to get them both for this!"

"Both?" Mac asked.

Harm nodded, "Yeah, it was Jen's camera, but it had to be Loren who pinned this to the fridge!"

"Ah…" Mac bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing out loud.

But Harm merely shook his head gently and carefully removed the photograph, and turning with an assumed casual air, nonchalantly strolled out of the Galley, holding the photograph aloft and mugging and bowing to a now enthusiastically applauding bull pen.

Such was the noise that it brought Admiral Chegwidden frowning from his office. It took him a couple of seconds to identify what was going on and then a grin spread across his face, "I might have known that Rabb was involved!" he said in an aside to Tiner.

"Yes, sir! But it has given them all something to think about. Other than what's happening down the hallway!"

"Good point, Tiner, good point!" the former Seal said and with his grin still in place, he retreated to the sanity of his office.


	90. Rough Justice

**xc-xc-xc-xc-xc**

**Chapter 90  
>Rough Justice<br>**

Harm paid for his lunch and then paused looking around for somewhere to sit, to see Loren waving at him from a table she shared with Carolyn and Babs Saunders. Making his way through the maze of tables and avoiding carelessly positioned chairs, he reached the table and put his tray down. But even before he had sat Babs was grinning broadly at him, "Okay… hand it over!" she demanded.

"Hand what over?" Harm asked looking at her in mild surprise.

"Hand over the evidence – Sleeping Beauty! I could do with a good laugh after this morning!"

Harm grinned in return, took a mouthful of his vegetable soup and a bite of his bread roll, chewed, swallowed and only then, observing the look of keen anticipation on Babs' face, said, "Sorry, that piece of evidence has been classified, 'need to know' and is now securely locked away! Besides…" his attention switched to Carolyn, "you saw it. Right?"

Carolyn, her eyes dancing with laughter nodded.

"Well, there ya go," Harm said expansively to Babs, "Carolyn can tell you all about it! But as for you young lady!" he turned to Loren, who was desperately trying to smother her laughter, he said, ignoring Babs' groan of frustration, "I am going to get my revenge! On you and on Jen!"

"Oh that is so not fair!" Babs said mournfully while Loren and Carolyn nodded in agreement.

"Never saw where life comes with a guarantee of fairness," Harm observed, but then the humour fled his faced as he looked back Babs, "How did it end, this morning?"

Babs too became serious, "Judge Morris, counsel and the panel watched the video. It was obvious from the first few seconds that the poor girl was either drunk or doped. The tape was made, but she had no hand in making it. It was rape, pure and simple. We watched about five minutes of the tape before the Judge ordered it turned off. I've never see a man as angry as he was right then. He ordered that the tape was inadmissible, and any and all reference to it be struck from the record, and instructed the panel that they should disregard the tape and evidence connected to it. Not that I thought he needed to," Babs took a mouthful of water and continued, "The six men on the panel looked green, almost ashamed, but that female Captain and the two female Lieutenant Commanders looked just about as angry as the Judge!"

What did friend Baxter have to say?" Harm asked looking around the cafeteria for the African-American attorney.

"He claimed he was only trying to defend his client to the best of his ability, using whatever tools he could. Judge Morris shot him down, told him to find another way, and added that he would be speaking to Admiral Chegwidden about his almost unethical behaviour."

"That poor kid," Carolyn said, "Knowing that yet more people have seen her total humiliation! Where is she?"

Babs looked troubled, "I tried to comfort her, but she sees me as part of the enemy now. Thank God Harriet Sims stepped in, she's taken her somewhere quiet, I hope!"

**xc-xc-xc-xc-xc**

Harriet had had a wearing half-hour, eventually calming Jo Pearson's wild sobbing, although the younger blonde was still weeping. Now Harriet marched up to Tiner's desk a look of grim determination on her face, "Tiner, I need to see the Admiral!" she stated flatly.

"Uh… he's busy ma'am, he's…" an unmistakable bellow emanated from the Admiral's office, penetrating the door, and although neither Tiner nor Harriet could make out any words the timbre and volume unmistakably belonged to a very angry Flag Officer.

Harriet blanched, "Who' he got in there, Tiner?"

"Uh… Commander Baxter, ma'am."

"Good!" Harriet said fiercely and then considered for a moment before saying, "It's probably best that I don't disturb him then. But please pass on the message to the Admiral and to anyone else who asks, that I am taking a personal day, and I am taking Lieutenant Pearson with me!"

Tiner's eyes grew round, "Is that wise, ma'am?"

"Who cares!" Harriet snapped back, "Wise or not it's necessary!"

Tiner still looked doubtful, "Well… good luck, ma'am!"

Harriet nodded her acknowledgement and turned stopping only at her desk to collect the still pale and trembling Lieutenant (JG), "Come on Jo, let's get you away from this place!"

Tiner stood, walked to his office door and watched the two blonde officers leave the bull pen. Shaking his head and hoping that her act of compassion wouldn't come back to bite Harriet on the ass he returned to his desk, wincing again as the enraged Admiral's bellows once again penetrated the walls of the inner sanctum.

**xc-xc-xc-xc-xc**

"I don't give a flying fuck what you thought, Commander!" A furious Rear Admiral (Upper Half) Chegwidden trumpeted into Commander Baxter's left ear, "The report of your courtroom behaviour this morning has left me feeling sick to my stomach! Though I don't why it should! It's about on a par with the behaviour you've been exhibiting ever since you arrived in this office! Your malicious jibes at a fine, upstanding officer, your sneering comments to and about all and sundry, your lack of self-discipline – yes, you were seen drinking on Monday at the picnic, despite the park being posted with signs prohibiting the consumption of alcohol. I don't know how you did it, but you even managed to piss off the security detachment, or did you imagine that the extra attention they paid to you during the game was due to your outstanding prowess on the football field!"

"For just two cents, if I had anyone available to take over the defence of Commander Lyndsey, I would sever you from this case immediately and ship your sorry ass to Diego Garcia, and ensure that you stayed there explaining the ROEs to sand flies and camel spiders for the remainder of your career!"

Chegwidden took a breath and made a deliberate effort to calm himself down, "I may not be able to sever you from the case, but only because Lyndsey has been kept waiting long enough for his day in court, but I assure you a full report of your conduct will be sent to your Commanding Officer together with a letter expressing just how vast my disappointment will be if your next fitrep grades you anything higher than unsatisfactory as an attorney, as an officer and as a gentleman. Admiral Morris has informed me that he has explained to you that any repetition of the sort of stunt you attempted in court this morning will find you being place in confinement for contempt of court. I have assured Admiral Morris, if that should come to pass, then he will have my full support and backing! Now, is that understood?"

A white lipped and trembling Baxter licked his dry lips, "Sir, yessir!" he responded.

Chegwidden eyed him with contempt. "Good, now get out!"

**xc-xc-xc-xc-xc**

After the courtroom fireworks of this morning and a hurried disclosure of Baxter's interview with the Admiral, an uneasy quiet fell over the bull pen as its denizens – including the attorneys in the surrounding offices - adopted a heads down, butt up attitude and managed to complete more work in a single afternoon than had until now been thought possible.

The only ripple on the calm surface had been mid-afternoon when the Admiral, having benefitted from a copious draught of an ant-acid emerged from his office and looked around the bull pen. He nodded in approval at the sight of such a level industry, only tasking Tiner, in a mild voice, "Pass the word for Lieutenant Sims, Tiner."

Tiner swallowed convulsively, "Lieutenant Sims has taken a personal afternoon sir, I believe she's taking care of… uh… I believe she's taking Lieutenant Pearson for treatment, sir… sir," his voice trailed off into uncertainty.

"She is, huh?" Chegwidden thought for a second or two, "Well, good for her!"

**xc-xc-xc-xc-xc**

"Hey, sweetheart," Harm smiled at the sight of Jen, already changed into a pair of his old jogging bottoms, the waist band up just under her breasts and the cuffs rolled halfway up her calves, and one of his old academy t-shirts worn overt them. She struggled to get up from her place on the couch where she had placed a cushion on the coffee table and was sat with her feet up and an expression of bliss on her face.

"No, don't get up!" Harm smiled, "I'll come down to your level!" He sat next to her, tilted her face towards him and delivered a warm, passionate, yet gentle kiss to her lips. But the instead of letting her go, he kept her face turned towards him and gently pressed a long finger against the tip of her nose, chuckling quietly as Jen went cross-eyed trying to focus on it.

"You, my girl, are in a whole heap of trouble…" he began.

"Oh yeah?" Jen said impudently, and gently rubbed her baby bump, "And just how much more trouble do you think I could be in?" she asked with a wicked grin.

"H'mm… just about as much trouble as you deserve for taking candid photographs of your unsuspecting lord and master and then getting your partner in crime to post them on the galley fridge door!" Harm grinned.

Jen lifted her head from where she'd snuggled against Harm's chest, "She didn't! I never really thought she'd do it."

"Oh, yeah, she did it! And every female in the place was giggling at me and I couldn't figure out why! I even checked my zipper! It wasn't until nearly lunchtime that Mac took pity on me and showed me the photo!"

"Oh… where is it now?" Jen asked with a giggle.

"Securely under lock and key in my desk drawer, and that's where it's going to stay!"

"Umm… you do realise that I took more than one exposure, and that they are all still stored on the camera's SD card?" Jen queried lightly.

"Umm… yeah… but if any more of them come to light, then you are going to miss out on my fantastic foot rubs!"

"Oh… that would be so cruel! But you have actually just reminded me of something, O lord and master," Jen said in a suspiciously innocent tine.

"And what's that?" Harm asked warily.

"Um… It's just that I can't bend down anymore to shave my legs, and they're beginning to snag on my stockings – I can't even wear pantyhose any more – and I really need to you to…"

"No!" Harm exploded, a look of horror on his face, "No, never! There is no way that I am going to shave your legs for you. Nuh-huh! It's not going to happen!"

"Oh… okay," Jen said in a crestfallen voice.

"And it's no good using that voice, and those eyes on me either… Oh, damn it Jen!"

"Does that mean you'll do it, then?" Jen asked hopefully, but still with a puppy dog expression on her face.

"No! Well… look… I'll think about it, okay?"

"Okay," Jen smiled and snuggled back against Harm's chest, a gentle smile of triumph on her lips.

"Nuh-huh," Harm said again, but gently this time, "No time for that right now; we need to get dinner underway, or have you forgotten that we're baby-sitting Sasha again this evening."

"No… I hadn't forgotten" Jen sighed, "But just ten minutes, please?"

Harm determinedly looked away from her, "You're doing that puppy dog thing with your eyes again, aren't you?" he asked in a long-suffering voice.

"Yep," Jen said smugly, "Is it working yet?"

"Damn it! Yes!" Harm grumped settling back and tightening his hug slightly.

**xc-xc-xc-xc-xc**

"So… where are you off to?" Harm asked David as he took delivery of Sasha and her overnight necessaries.

"Not Romano's this time," David grinned, "My bank manager wouldn't appreciate a double hit of that size twice in a month. No, there's an Irish tavern on Broad Street that's supposed to serve good food, just up and across from Applebee's…"

Harm nodded, "Ireland's Four Provinces. It's a good pub, and they serve a good ice cold Guinness, but be careful of that stuff, it's a lot stronger than you might think!"

David nodded, taking Harm's warning seriously, "Don't worry, I intend having one beer with dinner, then it's back on to the sparkling cider. I'm not taking any chances with Loren in the car!"

Harm nodded, "No, I know you won't…" he hesitated for a second before he drew a deep breath and plunged headlong, "David… are you intending to take this thing with Loren much further… If not, it would be kinder to drop it now."

"Hammer, I have every intention of taking this thing with Loren all the way, but not just yet. You might not realise it, and I'm pretty sure she doesn't realise it, but she needs more time to heal after Sergei ran out on her. I don't like it, but I'm prepared to wait until she's ready, although that doesn't mean I'm not gritting my teeth while I'm waiting."

Harm winced at hearing his brother's name linked once more to Loren's plight, but he managed a grin and clapped David on the shoulder, "I didn't really have any doubts," he said sincerely, "I've been telling her that you're one of the good guys!"

"Yeah… thanks for that – I think!" David grinned, "Now, you got her safely?" he queried, nodding at Sasha, who seemed quite content for the moment just to rest in Harm's arms.

"Yeah, no problem. We'll look after baby, you go look after mommy!"

David retreated back across the yard to collect Loren, while Harm gently closed the door with his foot, and diaper bag over one shoulder, and Sasha cradled in his arms he returned to the lounge where she had resumed her earlier feet-up position on the couch. "Mrs Rabb, we have a visitor!" Harm said grandly.

Jen smiled and held up her arms, "Oh, give her to me!"

Harm carefully transferred Sasha to Jen while he set up her activity centre, noticing as he did so that baby's attention was divided between himself and Jen, Sasha's hand reaching for Jen's hair and then her eyes switching direction to observe the progress Harm was making with the baby gym, and it seemed that the second he was finished, Sasha started to squirm on Jen's lap, threatening at one stage to roll onto the floor.

Harm quickly rescued Sasha and carried her across to the play mat and gently placed her on her back. Sasha cooed contentedly, her eyes following Harm as he stood up, and then as he disappeared out of her field of vision she seemed to lose interest in him and turned her attention to the plastic starfish that was suspended from the activity centre frame just out of her reach.

Harm stopped on his way back to the couch and asked Jen, "More tea?"

He had barely reached the kitchen though when Jen's urgent cry of "Harm! Sasha!" made him drop the mug he was holding and with heart pounding dash back into the lounge, where Jen was now sitting bolt upright on the couch an arrested expression clouding her face as she stared at the baby.

"What? What's wrong? Jen. What is it?" Harm yelled.

"Oh… no… nothing's wrong, but look!" Jen pointed across the room at Sasha.

Harm followed her pointing finger, "Yeah, I don't see anything wrong, for God's sake Jen don't scare me like…Oh… oh my! She's on her tummy!"

"Yes! She just seemed to give a heave and rolled over all on her own!"

Harm perched on the arm of the couch, "Wow, I wonder how long she's be doing that! Did Loren mention it to you? Because she hasn't said anything to me!"

Jen shook her head, "No, nothing to me either!"

Harm grinned, "She's going to be so excited…"

A troubled look came over Jen's face, "Harm, we can't tell her…"

Harm frowned, "Why ever not?"

"What if this is the first time she's done it, and Loren's missed it? She'll be so upset…"

"Oh, Jen… but, no, no… good point…"

"She's going to miss so much, being at work all day, so many firsts that are going to happen when she's not there to see them… Oh, Harm… and" the tears were suddenly streaming down Jen's face, "It's going to be the same for us…"

Harm slid off the arm of the couch, landing next to Jen, and putting his arms around his wife he let her bury her head in his chest and cry herself out.

**xc-xc-xc-xc-xc**

David Medwick crept out of Loren's bedroom in his sock feet, carrying his shoes in his hand. He'd packed the last of his civilian clothes last night when he and Loren had returned from Falls Church after reclaiming Sasha from Jen and Harm. The two couples had wished each other a good night and then returning to the ranch-house he and Loren had collaborated in feeding, bathing and changing Sasha and finally put her to bed, before Loren had smiled at him and taking him by the hand had led him quietly and without any fuss to her bed.

They had made slow gentle love and afterwards lay talking softly in the darkness, talking about the week they had just spent, what the future might hold and making nebulous plans for that future, but then at the last David said, "I don't want you getting up when I do, I need to make an early start, and it's going to be far too early for you, and besides, I'd rather have my last image of you lying asleep in bed, with a soft, sweet smile on your face, than standing at the door, sadly waving goodbye."

"You flatter yourself," she had teased him, what makes you think I'd have anything on my face but a relieved smile that I was finally going to get some pace and quiet around here!"

"In that case," he had chuckled, drawing her even closer within the circle of his arm, "I'd definitely prefer to think of you lying in bed with that sexy smile on your face."

"Sexy? I thought it was supposed to be a sweet smile?" Loren murmured wickedly.

"Ah… sexy and sweet!" David murmured as he kissed her on the forehead.

"Sexy and sweet, h'mm? Okay… I can live with that," Loren murmured as she gently drifted off to sleep.

Now as he hastily made a mug of instant coffee, he was startled as a pair of slim arms wrapped themselves around his waist, and a blonde head was laid against his back, while a low voice whispered, "Good morning you."

David disengaged Loren's hands from around his waist and twisted around to face her. "I thought I said you weren't to get up?" he scolded her gently.

"And did you really think I wouldn't?" Loren replied quietly.

David smiled as he placed his hand on her hips and tugged her towards him, "No, I guess not… Good morning Loren," he breathed.

"Good morning David," she replied, her lips brushing against his even as she spoke.

They stood silently for a good five minutes, just holding onto each other until Loren sighed, lifted her head from his chest and said, "You'd better get going sailor, otherwise you're going to be adrift!"

David nodded, released her and sat down on one of the kitchen chairs to put his shoes on. Standing, he picked up his sea bag and paused, "I'm not going to kiss you again, because if I do, I might not make it through the door. So… I'll see you along the flight line sometime, okay?"

Loren nodded, "Okay, just make sure you fly right!"

"I will. You take care of yourself and Sasha."

"I will," Loren promised and stood still as David opened the door and started up the path to the yard gate.

Stopping at the gate, he turned and took a last look back to see Loren, her blonde hair still tousled, her bare legs and feet visible under the edge of the crimson silk kimono he'd bought her, and with that soft and sexy smile on her face that nearly broke his heart. With a last nod he lifted the gate latch and was gone.

Loren waited until the gate had closed behind him, before she stepped back into the kitchen and shut the door. Only then did she lean back against the support of the door and allow her mask to slip and the tears to run down her face.

**xc-xc-xc-xc-xc**

Loren was still and withdrawn when she shared the ride into Falls Church with Harm, and he knowing her as he did was content not to pester her with questions, or attempt to cheer her up. Loren, he knew, would slowly come around in her own time, and whereas she might in her previous incarnation have savaged anyone who got in her way, these days he expected that all that would happen was that she would remain aloof until her heartache eased.

It looked like he was right in his supposition when having signed in and ridden the elevator to the ops level he asked, Coffee?"

Loren considered for a moment and then replied "No… no thanks, Harm… I think I'll just turn to."

Harm nodded his acceptance and watched as she closed her office door behind her, but left the blinds open. With a sympathetic smile for her feelings, he dropped his cover and briefcase off in his own office and strolled through the already filling bull pen to the galley. Somebody had been there before him and he was relieved when he'd poured his coffee to find that there was at least one, maybe two more, cups left in the jug, absolving him of the responsibility to start a fresh pot. So taking an appreciative sip of his drink he strolled out into the bull pen, his eyes easily finding Harriet Sims as she booted up her computer. Making his way across the room to her desk he stopped and smiled, "Good morning, Lieutenant."

Harriet looked up and smiled in return, she had always had a soft spot for the tall naval officer, and she recalled that he had been the subject of one or two of her private – very private – dreams, but this was neither the time nor the place to indulge in those sort of thoughts and memories she scolded herself, instead she smiled brightly and replied, "Good morning, sir. What can I do for you today?"

"Scuttlebutt has it that you took young Lieutenant Pearson under your wing after she was finished in court yesterday?" he made his statement into a question.

Harriet bristled, "Somebody needed to! And I'm sorry if that's offended your sense of what's right and wrong… sir! But that girl needed her mother yesterday, and as her mother wasn't here, and nobody else seemed to care…"

"Whoa! Whoa! Power down Lieutenant," Harm interrupted her, not sure whether to be alarmed or amused by her pugnacity, "I wasn't offended at all! I actually came across to say Bravo Zulu to you, and to ask how she was this morning."

Harriet looked at him with a stricken look on her face, "Oh…" was she could manage and she seemed to deflate. Harm hid a grin, it seemed to him that he could almost see her feathers falling back into place, and with a pat on her shoulder, he left the embarrassed Admin Officer to recover her equilibrium. His route back to his own office took him nowhere near Babs Saunders' cubby hole but he figured he could spare a couple of minutes.

He rapped on the door frame at the far end if the hallway and asked, "Got a few minutes?"

"M'mm," Babs hastily swallowed a mouthful of jelly doughnut and waved him to come in, at the same pushing the bakery box towards him, "Help yourself," she offered, "something to help that awful coffee down!"

Harm looked at the sugar-coated confections and shuddered, "No thanks, I'd rather take my chances with caffeine poisoning than a sugar coma!"

Babs laughed, "You don't know what you're missing!"

"Had you ever considered that if your senses weren't overload with sugar, the coffee wouldn't perhaps taste so bad?" Harm grinned.

Babs pretended to give his proposition some serious thought, but then wrinkled her nose and said, "Nah! But you didn't trek all the way down here to discuss the merits or otherwise of doughnuts, so what does bring you this far off the beaten track?"

"Not quite so idle curiosity," Harm confessed, "I missed you yesterday afternoon, and was wondering how the rest of your day was."

"Not quite so idle?" Babs asked in slight surprise.

"H'mm… Last year Lyndsey was ordered to compile an audit on Jag, but you know that, right?"

Babs nodded.

"Well, compile it he did, but in such a way that he deliberately ignored all our strong points and emphasised all our worst points, putting the worst possible spin that he could on the negatives. But the person he really seemed to have it in for me was me. For some reason he felt it necessary to even drag up the fact that I'd cost the taxpayer eighty million dollars by ditching two Tomcats, despite the fact that both times I was subjected to an Air Accident Investigation Panel, and on both occasions was found not culpable."

"Wow, bitter much!" Babs said, half appalled and half amused at Harm's vehemence.

"Yeah… that's the reason you and Baxter were parachuted in, the Admiral felt we needed to be distanced from the case so that there was no suggestion of bias."

"Well, obviously I didn't just hear you say all that!" Babs said somewhat severely.

"No, and I probably shouldn't have said it," Harm admitted, "But there's something about that man that makes me… Oh… Tell me, from a woman's point of view, how does he sweet talk so many supposedly intelligent women into fall for his bullshit? I mean he's certainly no Adonis."

"No he's not, he's far more dangerous than that. He appears to be so totally harmless, open, frank and friendly that women don't even see him as a danger, let alone a predator, until he suddenly turns and puts the pressure on!"

Harm shook his head, "Still, it's totally beyond me. But how did it go in court yesterday afternoon?"

"Pretty good. Young Jo Pearson was out of it, so I told Judge Morris I had sent her for treatment, but reserved the right to recall her at a later date, and I put Eve Sorenson on the stand instead."

"Sorenson? Who she?"

"One of dearest Teddy's earliest victims, one of them who fell totally for his bag of tricks, I'm afraid, which is why she kept quiet all these years until now. She used to work at the Pentagon as a line officer, until she fell afoul of Lyndsey, but then she applied for, and was accepted at NFO school. She's now a Lieutenant Commander down at Key West and has just transitioned as a WSO on F-18Fs, so she's used to pressure. She was very calm, very cool, gave her answers in clearly and unambiguously… She's got balls though… When Baxter was cross-examining her she tried to give full answers, but he kept cutting her off. So, she turned to Judge Morris and asked whether there was such a charge as suborning perjury. I though the Judge was going to have a heart attack on the spot, but he's pretty game so he just asked her what she meant. She answered that she had taken an oath to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, but that Baxter kept cutting off her answers, preventing her from complying with the whole truth bit of the oath. If she didn't comply then surely she was perjuring herself, and because Baxter was forcing her to do that, then he was guilty of suborning perjury. I don't know how she – or the judge – kept a straight face, I was struggling to stay calm, and I thought Baxter was going to have a cow!"

Harm grinned and shook his head, "What did Admiral Morris say?"

"He said that she raised an interesting point of law, and that he'd have to take it under advisement, but for the present Baxter was acting in accordance with established trial protocol and that nobody would be filing charges of perjury against her for not telling what she saw as the whole truth!"

"Do you think she meant it?"

Babs pondered for a few seconds and then gave a regretful sigh, "No… probably not. I reckon that Baxter had pissed her off, and she was getting back at him the only way she could!"

"Still, I wish I'd been there to see it!" Harm declared.

"Oh, if it's court room fireworks you want, try to get in to this afternoon's session, I'm putting Lieutenant Toranama on the stand this morning, but this afternoon it's going to be the turn of your friend Lieutenant Martinelli, and as I recall from her interview, she's a bit of a firecracker!"

"She is that!" Harm agreed, "I will definitely make it to court this afternoon. She was so mad at Lyndsey and the whole situation when I spoke with her that you might want to have a bailiff standing by in case she gets over excited and tries to kill Lyndsey – or Baxter, if he rubs her up the wrong way!"!

Babs shook her head, "I don't see that happening, but unless she's very careful I can quite easily see Judge Morris writing her up for contempt of court!"

**xc-xc-xc-xc-xc**

"Lieutenant Sims reporting as ordered, sir!" Harriet said standing in a nerve quivering rigid brace.

Admiral Chegwidden peered at her over the top of his reading glasses, and then removed them frowning as he did so. Contrary to his usual practice, especially when dealing the female members of his staff, he did not bid the officer in front of him to stand easy or to take a seat, but instead elected to let her know that she was in the doghouse by keeping her at attention. At least that was his original intention, but as he slowly surveyed her, there was something so significant it seemed about her posture and the way her waist belt was so tightly cinched around her middle that a sudden suspicion took root in his mind.

"Lieutenant Sims, forgive a somewhat personal question, but are you by any chance pregnant again?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" Harriet replied.

The Admiral remembering the tragic outcome of the young officer's last pregnancy suddenly felt unsure and resting his elbows on his desk, he dropped his head into his hands before sweeping them front to back over his scalp and muttered, "Oh hell… Harriet, relax, and take a seat. And when you've done that, perhaps you'd like to explain to me why you suddenly decided to go UA yesterday afternoon and take Lieutenant Pearson with you!"

"Hardly UA, sir! I did try to see you to ask permission, and I did ask Tiner to let you know where I went, and why I was gone, sir!" Harriet protested.

"Harriet! I'm the damned lawyer around here, not you! So, please leave it to me to table the mitigating circumstances!"

Harriet risked a smile, "I can't help it sir. It's being married to Bud… to Lieutenant Roberts, sir!"

A J relaxed and allowed a half smile to appear on his face, "How is Lieutenant Pearson?" he asked.

"Not good, sir," Harriet replied gravely. "She needs to get back to Pearl, away from people who know what happened to her, both at college and here in Falls Church. I know she's made some stupid mistakes, sir. But she's a bright kid, and I reckon she's got potential. It would be a shame to let that potential go to waste, when with just a little care and mentoring, the Navy would be gaining a good, if not outstanding officer."

"Would you willingly have her working for you?" A J asked.

"In a flash, sir! But much as I'd like that, this isn't the place for her. Not at the moment sir. In year or maybe even six months when she's had a chance to get her balance back, to regain her focus, then yes, sir. I'd welcome her back with open arms!"

A J nodded, "I see. Very well, dismissed, Lieutenant!"

Harriet stood, "Aye, aye, sir!" and about faced.

She stopped halfway to the door as Chegwidden called her name again, "Oh… Harriet… congratulations. If you need to take time for medical reasons…" he stumbled to an uncomfortable halt.

Harriet felt the prickle of unbidden tears as she heard the gruff old man try to express sympathy in his clumsy way, without re-opening old wounds. "Thank you, sir," she said quietly and let herself out of his office.


	91. The Wrath of the Lambs

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 91  
>The Wrath of the Lambs<strong>

All thoughts of attending court that afternoon were nearly banished in their entirety from Harm's head as the first person he saw on entering the bull pen was Sturgis Turner. The African-American Commander was in uniform, but leaning heavily on a cane and his face showed that he was in some discomfort.

"Sturgis! Buddy, how the hell are you?" Harm almost ran forward to grasp his academy buddy's hand, "You stupid SOB, you know you scared the crap out of me!"

Sturgis grimaced, "I can assure you," he said in a tight voice, "I scared even more crap out of me, and that was definitely not my intention!"

While he spoke Harm carried out a swift visual inspection of his friend, noting the greyish shade of his complexion, the stress lines at the corner of his mouth and the beads of perspiration on his forehead. "Sit down, amigo, take the weight off. That leg's still hurting, I can tell!"

Sturgis managed a grim smile, "Thanks for the concern, but it's less painful to stand."

"Less painful to stand? I don't believe you!" Harm said in astonishment.

"Well, okay that's not quite accurate, but it is less painful to stay standing than it is to sit down and then stand up again!"

"Then what are you doing here, in uniform? The doc hasn't released you for return to duty, surely?"

"No, he hasn't – and stop calling me Shirley!" Sturgis quipped and both men smiled at the reference, and then Sturgis continued, "No, I'm not released, but sitting at home is driving me mad with boredom. There are only so many books on my bookshelf, and have you ever realised just how bad daytime TV is?" Sturgis shuddered. "No, I've come to see if the Admiral has anything I can take home to work on; simple cases, reports to write, hell even wills to check, or FOI requests to deny because the information wanted is "Classified".

Harm winced. He'd had more than enough of wills, leases and FOI requests in the fallout from the Kozlovsky affair, and he knew that Sturgis, although much happier with the minutiae of regulations and paper shuffling than he was, must still be desperate to even consider volunteering for that sort of purgatory. Then a thought struck him.

"Hey, just hang on there a second, pal! If you're climbing the walls, already, just how long have you been out of hospital?"

To his surprise Sturgis looked embarrassed, "Uh… about ten days … yeah, Friday before last… the week before the holiday."

"Why the hell didn't you let us know?" Harm demanded indignantly. "The last we heard was that you were still too ill to receive visitors!"

"Um… yeah… that wasn't quite true. The Admiral came to see me 'most every day, but I asked him not to mention that I was that much better, or to tell anyone that I'd been released from hospital. I just didn't want to have to make nice, while I was worrying… and anyway, you've got enough to worry about with Jen and the wild child!" Sturgis, realising that he very nearly let slip too much information, flung out the reference to Loren in the hope that Harm would get side-tracked.

"Jen's fine these days and Loren is not as you remember her, but we can talk about that later! What do you mean you were worrying? And what about shopping cleaning and cooking? If you can't get around, don't tell me that you drove to the store and back!""

Sturgis took a deep breath, he really didn't want to get into this just yet, while he was still coming to terms with the possible consequences of his injury, "Uh… if I'd needed you I'd have called, but my downstairs neighbour has been looking after me. She's been very good to me. Done all my shopping, cooked me two meals a day and even done some tidying up around the apartment."

Harm blinked, "And what does Bobbie have to say about all this?" he demanded with the beginnings of a sly grin.

"Um… Bobbie and I aren't seeing each other anymore," Sturgis admitted guiltily.

"Because of your kind downstairs neighbour?" Harm teased his old friend.

Sturgis did crack a grin at that, "No, Bobbie and I split because our politics were too different, we were attracted to each other, sure, but to her, her career was always more important to her than we were, and then when she went on the campaign trail for re-election, I took a good hard look at her policy document, and before I went off to Pearl we had discussed the situation and our relationship and we decided that with one thing and another, we just weren't going to work out." He paused and a meditative glint came into his eyes, "And truth to tell, I think Bobbie was just as relieved as I was!"

"And nothing to do with your ever so obliging neighbour?" Harm persisted

"Stop fishing, Harm! Mrs Barrington is all of seventy five, if a day, a respectable widow, and the mother of three daughters – all happily married, before you say anything else."

"Okay if you say so," Harm gave up on the tease but eyed Sturgis narrowly, "Now, what's this about you worrying?"

"Um… I… Well…" Sturgis cast his eyes about looking for some sort of escape route. He wasn't prepared to get into a discussion of his worries, and certainly not in the middle of the bull pen, now filling up again as people returned from their lunch break. So he could almost have wept with relief when the two officers were interrupted.

"Commander Turner, sir. The Admiral will see you, now!" Tiner had approached from Harm's blind side, so he was till looking at Sturgis when the message was delivered, and he did not miss the look of relief that sprang into his old friend's eyes.

"Excuse me, Harm" Sturgis said, and carefully coordinating cane and legs he waited until Harm stepped back to clear his path and then lurched in the direction of the admiral's office.

Harm watched him go with a puzzled expression on his face, and was still staring in the direction of Tiner's desk when Harriet stopped as she was passing by and spoke, "It's good to see Commander Turner back, isn't it, sir?"

Harm banished the frown and turned a smile on the blonde Lieutenant, "It certainly is, Harriet. But something's bothering him…" he eyed her shrewdly, having the greatest respect for her intel gathering capacity, "I don't suppose you have any idea of just what that might be, do you?"

Harriet gave a half-smile, "Unless it's just the pain, no, sir. I understand that a broken femur hurts like hell… uh… like heck, sir!"

"H'mm… yeah… you could be right," Harm conceded, but Harriet could see that he still harboured doubts and decided on a quick getaway before he thought to press her for more information. "Well, if you'll excuse me, sir, I just want a quick word with Lieutenant Pearson before court resumes, so by your leave?"

"Oh… of course, Harriet. How is your protégée?"

"She's beginning to deal with it, sir. Thanks to the people around her. The other girls have been wonderful! But I really must go… and I thought you wanted to be present in court this afternoon? Or so Commander Saunders was saying at lunch."

"Yes, I do. See you later!" Harm smiled and turning headed for his office to drop off his cover and briefcase before making his way down the hall towards the court room. 'The other girls have been wonderful' he mused as he recalled Harriet's words, 'But I'll bet they just took their lead from a certain Lieutenant Sims!'

**xci-xci-xci-xci-xci**

Harm made it to the courtroom before the afternoon session started and nodded an acknowledgement of her presence to Lieutenant Martinelli, who, with a ferocious scowl on her face, sat on the bench flanked by Commander Mackenzie, her CO, and a tall, slim, solemn-looking Lieutenant Commander who wore NFO wings above her rack of ribbons, and who, he assumed was Eve Sorenson. She was certainly tanned enough to suggest that she lived all year round in a warmer climate than that of Washington.

Quietly entering the court room, Harm slipped into one of the chairs nearest the door so that he could slip out again with the minimum amount of disturbance should he be called away, and with a glance at his watch he breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of both counsel at their tables, Lindsey flanking Baxter, and at the sight of an Asian appearing woman in Lieutenant's uniform sitting composedly in the witness box.

He hadn't been sitting long when the MP Staff Sergeant acting as the court bailiff called the court to order as Admiral Morris entered from his chambers and took his seat on the bench.

"Are counsel ready to proceed?"

Baxter and Sunders glanced at each other and replied in chorus, "Yes, Your Honour."

"Very well. Commander Baxter, you may commence your cross-examination." Admiral Morris paused and turned to the witness, "Lieutenant Toranama, I remind you that you are still under oath. Do you understand?"

"Understood, sir!" Toranama replied in a cultured voice.

Baxter rose to his feet, his whole bearing strongly suggestive that he was in total control of the situation. "Lieutenant Toranama, you have… entertained this court…" he began in a lazy drawl.

"Objection! Argumentative!" Babs Saunders was on her feet, shooting a glare at Baxter and then turning an expressionless face towards Admiral Morris.

"Sustained!" Admiral Morris snapped and then added, "Watch your step, Commander Baxter!"

"Aye, aye, sir." For a second it looked like Baxter was about to attempt to justify himself but then perhaps wisely decided against it. Clearing his throat he began again.

"Lieutenant Toranama, you testified earlier that you did not report Commander Lindsey for his alleged sexual harassment of you, on the grounds that you wished to protect your father."

"That is correct," Toranama replied in a cultured voice.

"I see, and just how would your silence have 'protected' your father?"

"It did protect him, Commander, there is no 'would have' about the situation. My silence as to the sexual harassment to which I was subjected protected my father from serving a life sentence for killing Lindsey!"

"And why would your father have done that?"

"Because in his eyes, Lindsey…"

"Your Honour," Baxter interrupted the Lieutenant, "Please instruct the witness to refer to the accused by his proper designation!"

Admiral Morris nodded, "Lieutenant, much as you may disrespect the man, he still holds the rank of Commander, and that rank must compel you to address him and refer to him respectfully. Failure to do so could lead to you being subjected to disciplinary charges. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir! My apologies to the court."

"Very well." Admiral Morris sat back, "You may continue, Counsel."

"I repeat, Lieutenant why would your father have killed Commander Lindsey?"

"Because in his eyes, the accused had offended our family honour. A dishonouring for which the only atonement would have been death."

Harm stifled a grin of admiration for the Japanese American woman's mental agility, while Baxter bit down on an exclamation of anger. The slant eyed bitch had out-manoeuvred him on the matter of referring to Lindsey. Not that he really cared, and although appearances were important, his objection had been made with the object of throwing her off balance, but she had not only survived but had made launched an effective counter attack. He could not remonstrate against her term of reference; it was one he himself had used only a few seconds previously. But…

Drawing himself up, Baxter let a cynical smile, with just an edge of condescension appear on his face, "Miss Toranama, do you really believe that your father would have attempted to kill Commander Lindsey, just because he propositioned you? After all this is twenty-first century America, not the Shogunate of Medieval Japan!"

An audible gasp of shock at the unmistakable racial slur reverberated throughout the courtroom and Admiral Morris took a second to get his thoughts, in order, "You do not have to answer that Lieutenant! Counsel, approach…"

"Excuse me, sir?" An icily calm Lieutenant Toranama interrupted the judge, "I would like to answer that!"

Morris scowled at Baxter but relaxed enough to say, "Very well, Lieutenant."

"Commander Baxter, my father would have reacted in the manner to which I have referred because he, sir, was a man of honour, which you are evidently not! His honour, courage, loyalty and devotion to this country were amply demonstrated by his service in the Four Hundred Forty Second Regimental Combat Team in nineteen forty-four. My father's name was Eikoku Toranama, Sergeant First Class, United States Infantry," she paused for effect, "A Medal of Honour recipient! Tell me Commander Baxter, in what way are you fit to judge him!?"

A second gasp ran around the courtroom. Emanating mostly from the members of the press, naval discipline keeping the uniformed spectators from reacting too openly.

Baxter opened his mouth to object, but was forestalled by Admiral Morris' grated "Counsel approach the bench!"

Fighting to keep the smile off her face Babs Saunders rose and walked calmly to stand in front of Judge Morris, while Baxter scowled at the calmly smiling Lieutenant Toranama and with some trepidation crossed the floor to flank Babs.

Admiral Morris clamped his hand around the microphone and spoke in a low, tightly controlled voice that nevertheless throbbed with anger "Commander Baxter, I don't know whether you are deliberately trying to cause a mistrial by angering me, and so give your client grounds for an appeal, or whether you are just terminally stupid. I am appalled that you would denigrate any aspect of multi-culture in this country. We are all immigrants here, whether our ancestors came over on the Mayflower or as mine did in the bowels of a slave trader. The only reason I have not declared a mistrial in the wake of your comments, actions and attitude throughout this trial is that I am extremely reluctant to force these unfortunate women from having to repeat their testimony in front of a new panel and a new judge. But also be aware that I am strongly considering drawing up charges against you for service discrediting conduct. The Lieutenant was absolutely correct in the phrasing of her question, on what grounds _do_ you think you are fit to judge her father? I warn you, both of you, that any repetition of the sort of behaviour we have seen today will result in charges being raised against the offender. Commander Saunders," Morris turned his attention solely on Babs, "You need to speak with your witnesses and caution them as to their attitude towards opposing counsel. Now, step back!"

Judge Morris took a deep breath and turned to Lieutenant Toranama, "Lieutenant while I acknowledge that the provocation was great, you cannot address counsel in the terms and in the tone you have used, and I must warn you that any repetition will result in a charge of contempt of court being laid against you."

Toranama turned her head to look at the Admiral, "Sir, I had and have no intention of appearing contemptuous of this court, for which I have nothing but the deepest respect. My contempt is reserved solely for defence counsel."

"Nonetheless, Lieutenant, you will moderate your answers to show respect for the office, if not the man!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Toranama replied stonily.

Judge Morris sighed, he had pushed about as far as he could go without actually holding the Lieutenant in contempt, and he had more than just a tinge of sympathy for her position. He shook his head and turned to the panel, knowing that it was a hopeless task, "The panel will disregard defence counsel's question and the witness' response. Continue with your questions, Mister Baxter!"

Baxter swallowed, "You have just told the court – no uncertain terms why you would not inform your father of Commander Lindsey's advances to you. But why would you not inform your CO?"

"For the same reason. Once word was out, then it would be almost certain that my father would hear it!"

"And just how would that happen?"

"My father, until his final illness, was a staunch supporter of the local post of the VFW at Springfield, which is not all that far from the Pentagon, and once an accusation of sexual misconduct is made, then word travels very far and very quickly. I am quite certain that my father would have heard if I had made such an accusation!"

"You are 'quite certain', Lieutenant? But you have no means of knowing this for a fact?"

"No, but…"

"Thank you Lieutenant. That is all. I have no further questions for this witness, Your Honour."

Judge Morris gave him a baleful look and turned towards Babs Saunders, "Redirect, Counsel?"

"Not at the moment, Your Honour," Babs answered rising from her seat, "But I reserve the right to recall the witness if that should prove necessary!"

"Very well, Lieutenant you may step down, but do not leave the building until dismissed by trial Counsel!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Naomi Toranama gathered her purse and slung it approved fashion from her left shoulder, and with her cover held at the regulation angle under her arm she stepped down from the witness-box and with straight back and her head held high she walked calmly the length of the courtroom to where the Marine MP Sergeant opened the courtroom doors for her.

Admiral Morris waited until the door had closed behind her, "You may call your next witness, Counsel."

"Prosecution calls Lieutenant Lucia Martinelli," Babs said in a voice clear enough to be heard by the MP at the door.

The door opened and Lucia Martinelli almost stalked down the aisle towards the front of the court, where the Staff Sergeant Bailiff indicated that she should take the stand and once she had settled herself, handed her a copy of the Bible and swore her in as a witness.

"Please state your name, rank, and present duty station for the record," Babs asked her.

Martinelli identified herself and added, "I am a crypto analyst and my current duty station is at the Pentagon."

"Thank you. Lieutenant Martinelli," Babs continued smiling at the glowering brunette, "Can you please tell the court what you experienced on the evening of April fifth this year?"

"Yes, it was a Saturday. I had a meeting with another officer. We had arranged to meet for a drink together."

"And do you see that officer in this courtroom today?"

"Yes, he is sitting at that table there. It Is Commander Lindsey."

"Thank you Lieutenant. You are certain that the officer with whom you had a date, is the same officer as the individual whom you have just identified?"

"Yes, I am."

"Was this your first date with Commander Lindsey?"

"No… but it wasn't a date in the romantic sense. We were just two officers meeting socially, we had met five times previously."

"Always for a drink?"

"Once we went to a Chinese restaurant, but other times yes, for a drink."

"And to the same bar each time?"

"No… we went to a different bar each time."

"Why do you think that was?" Babs asked.

"Objection! Calls for speculation on the witness' part!" Baxter almost yelled.

"Commander Saunders?" Admiral Morris asked.

"Lieutenant Martinelli is an analyst, she is trained to draw conclusions from disparate data," Babs offered.

"H'mm… no… that boat won't float! Sustained! Move it along Commander!"

"Yes Your Honour." Babs wasn't too perturbed at the ruling, getting that question through had always been a bit of a stretch. But she merely smiled and turned back towards the witness stand, "Lieutenant, you have just stated that you went to half a dozen meetings with Commander Lindsey. Over what period of time did these meetings take place?"

"From mid-February through early April."

"Pretty much on weekly basis, then?"

"Yes."

"Were you aware at the time that Commander Lindsey was married?"

"Yes. He told me that the first time we had a drink together."

"That didn't bother you?"

Martinelli nearly shrugged but caught herself in time, "No, why should it? We had a platonic friendship – or so I thought. At least I had no intention of having sex with him."

"So you continued to meet with him?"

"Sure, he was well-spoken, quiet, unassumingly earnest, polite, and he had a fun, dry, droll sense of humour. He was good company, and he made me laugh. The job I have can be stressful, so sometimes we need to relax, to unwind, but even when some of us meet off-duty, there's always someone who wants to talk about work. Commander Lindsey worked for another department and knew nothing about my job, so he was a safe companion from that point of view."

"If Commander Lindsey works for another department, how did you meet him? After all, the Pentagon is a big place, and the Navy alone employs thousands of people there, both uniformed and civilians."

"I met him at the Bank of America in the Pentagon. We were standing in line, and the sailor in front of us was taking an age to complete his transaction. Either the Commander said something, or more likely me. I don't have the longest fuse on my temper and I get impatient very quickly, particularly when I'm already feeling stressed. Anyway, I said something about how the guy up front was holding up the line, and we got to talking. After we'd finished at the Bank he offered to buy me a cup of coffee. I still had about twenty minutes left of my lunch break so, sure why not? We got our coffee, had we had a talk, and then he suggested that we meet the next evening for a drink. Like I said, he was pleasant, funny, polite, so again, sure, why not?"

"And what happened the night you met for that first drink?"

"We met straight after duty, and we went to a bar in Alexandria, we talked. He asked me was I always so stressed out like I was the day before. Then we got talking some more, he offered me some advice on how to cope with stress, so said I'd give his advice a try. We had a couple of drinks each, arranged to meet the following weekend and then we left the bar. He got into his car. I got into mine and I went home."

"What happened at your next meeting?"

"He asked me how my stress management was going. It was all pretty low key, we told a few jokes, had a couple of laughs. Then he said he worked directly for the SecNav, and that he liked me, and maybe he could give me a few tips to help my career along, and maybe even bring my name to the SecNav's notice."

"And you didn't see any flags on the play at this stage?" Babs asked, deliberately throwing in the football reference in order to get under Baxter's skin.

"No, none. It was like talking to one of my uncles."

"But it didn't stay like that?"

"No… on our next meeting, he said that he had mentioned my name to the SecNav, and that maybe I wouldn't have to wait too much longer for an assignment that maybe wasn't so stressful. And then at the end of the evening, he kissed me on the cheek when he said goodnight."

"And still no alarm bells?" Babs queried.

This time Martinelli did shrug, "No. Why would it? I'm from an Italian American family who live in an Italian American part of town. Where I come from people kiss each other on the cheek the whole time."

"It didn't strike you as an inappropriate action, coming from a senior officer?"

"No… Like I said he was like one of my uncles."

"Like one of your uncles… But you didn't retain that impression very long did you?"

"No… On April fifth, we went to a bar in the country, off the US-One near Fort Belvoir. And again we had a couple of drinks and a sandwich – we shared a basket of fries, and then we left. When we got to our cars he said he'd taken a room for the night at the Motor Lodge just down the road, and suggested that we both spent the night there."

"And what was your reaction?"

"At first I just stared at him. Here was this guy who I thought of as a friend propositioning me! After a couple of seconds I shook my head and told him no-way, that me spending the night with him was never going to happen."

"What happened then?"

"He grabbed me and tried to kiss me – on the mouth, and he grabbed my breast and squeezed it. He said that I wasn't playing little league no more, but that I was playing with the big boys now, and had to play by their rules!"

"What did you do?""

"I told him to quit, to let me go, and when he didn't I kneed him in the ba… uh… I kneed him in the groin!"

"And then?"

"Then I left him on the ground, told him never to call me or try to see me again, and then I got into my car and drove home!"

"Thank you, Lieutenant Martinelli." Babs turned towards Baxter, "Your witness… Counsellor." She deliberately paused before adding the honorific to her phrase, letting Baxter, Admiral Morris and the panel exactly what she thought of him.

Baxter approached the stand, "So… Lieutenant Martinelli… You have just taken an oath to tell the truth, have you not?"

"Sure," Martinelli replied.

"And you swore the oath on the court Bible, did you not?"

"Yeah."

"But, according to your service record, you are a catholic, a member of the Roman Catholic Church."

"Yeah."

"But you didn't ask for a Catholic Bible?"

"No I…"

"Objection!" Babs was back on her feet, "Relevance, Your Honour!"

"Counsellor?" Morris demanded.

"If Your Honour will allow me a little leeway, I am attempting to establish the witness' probity, or lack thereof."

"Very well, but move it along!" Judge Morris warned him.

"Thank you Your Honour. Now, Lieutenant Martinelli, passing over the question of why you did not ask for a Catholic Bible, would you say that you were a good Catholic?"

"I try to be. I keep my Easter Observances, and I go to Mass when I feel the need, make my confession occasionally and take Communion."

"I see, and as a good Catholic, how do you think the church would feel about you dating a married man?"

"Objection, Your Honour, the witness has already testified that she never considered her meetings with the accused to be what are commonly known as dates!"

"Sustained! Watch your step Counsellor!"

"I'm sorry Your Honour," Baxter gritted out between clenched teeth, and with an obvious effort fought down his rising frustration as he turned back towards the witness box.

"So… you consider yourself to be a good Catholic, Lieutenant?"

"Asked and answered, Your Honour," Babs said wearily.

"It was. Counsellor!" Judge Morris said in a warning tone.

"Yes, Your Honour. Now Lieutenant, does not the Catholic Church prohibit the use of contraception?"

"Yes, but…"

"But nothing, Lieutenant. Just answer the questions I ask!"

Martinelli fell silent but glared at Baxter and Harm found himself recalling the volatile young woman's outburst in his office and silently repeating, 'Don't do it Martinelli, don't do it!' he shot an anxious glance at Commander Mackenzie beside him and saw the same expression on the other officer's face.

Baxter didn't seem to see, or perhaps he did and decided to disregard the warning signs, "And doesn't the Catholic Church also prohibit abortion – in all circumstances?"

Harm heard Mackenzie quietly groan, "Oh no…" as Martinelli went white.

"Yes." She said after a long pause.

"But isn't that precisely what you did? You procured an abortion after a contraceptive failure during your junior year at college, during the course of your affair, with a married man, one of your lecturers?"

Babs was on her feet, her face almost as white as Martinelli's, "Objection, relevance?"

"Indeed," a grim faced Admiral stared at Baxter, "Explain, please Counsellor?"

"Your Honour, this witness has made much of her refusal to entertain the idea of having sex with a married man, she makes much of being as 'Good Catholic', yet by her own admission, she has not only on a previous occasion, over a period of time engaged in an adulterous affair with a married man, her senior in years, as well as senior in his field – much as Commander Lindsey stands in relation to her now. She admits to having used contraception, and then to procuring an abortion, which although legal in that state at that time, is wholly contrary to the tenets of the faith that she claims to hold so dear! By her own words she has demonstrated that not only does she tells lies, but that her whole life is a lie!"

Mackenzie murmured, "Oh, God…"

"Hey _stronzo! _You don't know fu… you don't know nothing about me, about my life! That _brutta figura_ next to you? He don't know how lucky he is! If I tell my uncle Francesco what he tried to do, and my uncle – he's a slaughter man, he'll cut his balls clean off! And he hears what you call me, he'll cut your balls off too!"

By this time the court was in uproar. The press representatives exclaiming loudly, Baxter looked completely taken aback, while Babs Saunders was slumped in her chair, her face buried in her hands, while Admiral Morris pounded his gavel on the bench and repeatedly yelled for order.

Finally peace of a kind fell on the courtroom, and Morris, breathing deeply, turned to Lieutenant Martinelli. "Lieutenant, while I appreciate that the provocation was extreme, there is no excuse for that sort of outburst in a courtroom, especially not in my courtroom. I have borne much today, but you have crossed the line. I am ordering you confined from this moment until court reconvenes tomorrow morning! Counsel, both of you in my chambers in five minutes! Bailiff, conduct Lieutenant Martinelli to the holding cells! This court is adjourned until ten hundred hours tomorrow!"

The Bailiff stood by the witness-box and intoned, "All rise!" as Judge Morris stalked away from the bench through the door that led to his chambers. The Bailiff turned to Lieutenant Martinelli, "Ma'am, if you please?"

Martinelli seemed to have recovered her temper, and perhaps some sort of recognition as to the possible effects of her outburst, but as white-faced and trembling she might be, she managed a composed, "Of course, Staff Sergeant, please lead the way."

"Yes, ma'am."

Babs hurried across, "Lieutenant... Lucia, I can't stop now, but I'll be down to see you as soon as the Judge has finished with us."

"Yes, ma'am, thank you ma'am."

Martinelli and Mackenzie exchanged a pained look as the MP led the unfortunate Lieutenant away, and as she disappeared through the doors the Commander from the Pentagon turned to Harm, "Damn it, Rabb, I warned her and I warned her about keeping a hold of her temper!"

Harm shook his head, "I don't think anything too bad will come of it. She'll cool down overnight, and so will the Admiral, and I reckon all he'll need is a sincere apology to the court in the morning and she'll hear no more about it!"

"You think?"

"Well, she succeeded in really pissing him off, but eighty per cent of that was due to Baxter's shenanigans throughout the afternoon. She might get a letter of reprimand in her SRB, but I can't see the Admiral pressing charges, unless of course she refuses to apologise."

"That's the problem," Mackenzie sighed, "She just may refuse to apologise."

"Well you'll just have to get together with trial counsel and make her realise that she's apologising to the dignity of the court and not to that asshole, Baxter!"

Mackenzie managed a twisted smile, "That may be a whole lot easier said than done!"


	92. P to the Power of Five

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 92  
>P to the Power of Five<br>**

The hall was awash with excited courtroom spectators, and the buzz of animated conversation rang loudly enough to penetrate the double doors leading into the bull pen, distracting at least half of its personnel, Harm estimated, from their duties… most of the other half he realised had their attention focussed on the bank of wall mounted monitors, at least half of which showed different angles of view of Commander Baxter standing in the JAG building parking lot, as he spoke into the battery of microphones thrust into his face.

"…and so a reasonable person can only conclude that the Lieutenant's inability to control her passion in the courtroom is evidence that she is unable to control her passion in the bed… ah…" he allowed a condescending half-smile to fleetingly cross his face "… elsewhere, and such an indication blows holes through her smokescreen of being the virtuous and righteous young woman she claims to be!"

Harm stiffened, "Turn that crap off!" he commanded no-one in particular but the whip-crack quality of his voice produced an immediate effect. The screen went blank and the level of industry in the bull pen returned. Almost immediately, to its normal level.

Shaking his head in disgust, Harm stalked stiff-backed towards his office only to find to his further annoyance that somebody had breached protocol and was sat in one of his visitors' chairs. Frowning, he opened the door to see the intruder was Sturgis Turner. His annoyance evaporating on the instant, he eased into his own chair and asked, "Sturg? What keeps you here? I thought you'd have been long gone by now!"

"I had quite a long talk with the Admiral," Turner replied gravely, "and at the end of it he wouldn't hear of me taking a cab, so he's despatched Legalman Eiriksen to get a pool car and drive me home. I suspect that Eiriksen has been delayed by that circus out front! Harm, what the heck is that reptile Baxter doing here?"

Harm looked at him blankly for a moment and his memory kicked in, "Oh… of course… I was forgetting, Baxter arrived while you were in hospital. The Admiral didn't want any of the Falls Church Staff, or anyone who knew me, or Loren for that matter, to have anything to do with the case, so he trawled for visiting firemen. Baxter was one of the results of that trawl."

"Didn't want anyone connected with you or with Singer?" Sturgis asked pointedly.

"Yes, Jen works with another witness for the prosecution, and Loren _Rabb_ may be called as a witness as well."

The slight emphasis that Harm had placed on Loren's new name was enough to bring a slightly shamefaced expression to his old academy friend's face, "Um… yeah… sorry about that… about the Singer thing… It's just that it happened only just before all this nonsense…" he indicated his injured leg, "and I haven't really had the chance to get accustomed to it."

Harm chuckled, "Yeah, it takes a little getting used to. But Sturgis, the name change is only one aspect of it. Since Sasha's arrival, she really has changed, she's become less… brittle… less driven, less acerbic. I know you had issues with her before she was deployed to the Seahawk, but she really has changed, Sturge, and for the better!"

"Well, if you're right, that's very good news," Sturgis agreed, "But I'm afraid as far as that particular officer is concerned, I might as well be from Missouri!"

Harm nodded, "Fair enough, but just give her an even break, okay?"

Sturgis nodded, "Okay, I think I can do that… but don't ask me to make any sort of allowances for Baxter!"

"Well, I'm not one of his greatest fans, but you really do have something against him?"

Sturgis nodded, "Apart from all the stunts he pulled at Annapolis, I butted heads with him while I was at Pearl. He was parachuted in from China Lake, or maybe Twenty Nine Palms – it doesn't matter which – to prosecute a DoD case I was appointed to defend. I can't prove it, but I'm pretty sure he manipulated evidence and caused at least one witness to alter his testimony, and even produced a witness I was convinced was an imposter, all to make the case against my client stronger."

"Did you win or lose?" Harm asked.

"I won, and my client walked. I reported my suspicions to Captain Hamilton – Admiral Jefferson's predecessor, but Baxter had gone back to California, his witnesses had dispersed. The one we, or rather I, suspected of being an imposter proved to be untraceable within the time and budgetary constraints, and the witness who changed his testimony stuck to his story that as he'd thought about what had happened, his memory functioned better, and he could recall details that had first proved elusive."

"And it was left like that?" Harm asked in amazement.

Sturgis nodded, "I didn't like it, any more than you do now, but I was ordered to drop it, and concentrate on my current case-load. This was just about the time that string of murdered sailors turned up in some of the sleazier neighbourhoods, and we had an outbreak of dungaree justice, revenge attacks against locals. So we were all pretty busy, and by the time the fall-out from that mess had died away the trail had gone hopelessly cold."

"How the hell did he ever make O-Five?" Harm wondered. "We both know what he was like at the academy… but this…"

"Oh yeah, you may think you know what he was like at the academy, Harm, but you missed out on the major issue. Baxter was always ready – too ready – to play the race card and in doing so he made life immeasurably more difficult for the rest of the black midshipmen there. You ever wonder why you attracted his attention? It's simple, you, a white boy, were my friend, and that didn't suit Baxter's agenda."

"Why would he even apply to the academy in that case?" Harm demanded

"Oh, come on Harm, it is one of the best – if not the best – universities in the country, and Uncle Sam picks up the tab for tuition and keep, and even provides all the clothes that you need!"

"But with his attitude how did he manage to stay on without getting kicked out?"

Sturgis said nothing, but merely raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, of course…" Harm said as he made the connection, "Football!"

"Exactly!" Sturgis agreed cynically.

"Damn, that's the sort of thing you expect from some jerkwater college in Smalltown USA, not the US Naval Academy!" Harm grumbled, but then continued, "His prowess didn't do him much good at the picnic on Monday, though," Harm grinned at the memory, "Gunny Waters and the two Hernandez brothers kind of singled him out for some extra TLC."

"Do tell," Sturgis invited Harm and sat back with an anticipatory smile on his face.

**xcii-xcii-xcii-xcii-xcii**

"So… you kept Sturgis amused until his ride turned up?" Jen queried, a forkful of egg fried rice halfway to her mouth.

Harm swallowed and nodded, "Yeah, pretty well, I guess. He said that he regretted now not having gone to the picnic; it would have been worth all the fussing just to see Baxter get dumped on his ass a few times!"

Jen nodded, chewed and swallowed, "Yeah, I thought at the time that it was cruel of the Marines to dump on Baxter the way they did, but having heard about his courtroom antics, maybe they didn't dump on him hard enough."

She paused for a few seconds while they both took another forkful of the vegetable stir-fry Harm had made for dinner before Jen spoke again, "So what happens now?" she asked with elaborate disinterest.

"In what way?" Harm countered.

"Well… that poor Lieutenant, for a start," Jen said.

"Well, she _was_ in contempt, and really Judge Morris didn't have any alternative, not unless he was willing to show that he had lost control of his courtroom – and in a courtroom full of the press, quite a lot of which are pretty hostile to the services. So, you might say that Martinelli forced his hand. He'll speak to her in the morning and ask her if she'll make an apology to the court; if she does he might let her go scot-free, or he might take some NJP action, like put a letter of reprimand on her file."

"And if she won't apologise?" Jen asked somewhat pugnaciously.

Harm looked at her in some surprise, "Well, if it was a civilian judge, he'd lock her up again, give her a chance to think things through, a chance to cool off. As a military judge, I'm pretty sure that he will make an official complaint against her through her chain of command, and she could then end up facing a charge of conduct unbecoming."

"That is so unfair!" Jen exclaimed putting her fork down. "By your own account, Baxter provoked her, he pushed and pushed until she snapped. He did the same thing with that young JG, only she broke down instead of getting in his face, and that other Lieutenant, he pushed and provoked her too! And now this Lieutenant Martinelli gets punished because Baxter's a slime ball! No! It's not fair!"

"Hey, easy, Tiger!" Harm said, "Jen, I know it's a nasty situation, but please, watch yourself, stressing like that isn't good for you, or our baby!"

"Damn! That's a lousy card to play, Harm!" Jen complained.

"Whatever it takes to keep you both safe, sweetheart. And if it's any consolation, you're right, it is a lousy situation, and I'm pretty sure that if Martinelli apologises to the court, and makes it sound like a sincere apology, then Judge Morris will forget all about it, and things will move on."

"Yeah?" Jen suddenly sounded as cynical as any fourteen year old, "As forgiving of a certain attorney who let off a full clip of automatic gunfire in his courtroom?"

"It wasn't a clip, it was half a dozen rounds. And yes, all right, he still hasn't forgiven me, or he hasn't forgotten, maybe. But hell, it was worth it, just to see Mac duck!"

"The way she tells it, she didn't duck," Jen demurred.

"No… that's right she dived under the table and took cover." Harm smirked.

"It's an amusing picture," Jen mused, "And it was a nice try at deflection, but I'm not buying it. I'm still pissed about that poor Lieutenant."

"Jen, I love your sense of justice, but you don't even know Martinelli, or do you? Is that it? You've met her at the Pentagon?"

"No, of course not. She's in procurement, isn't she? And they have very little to do with Navy Legal. If there's a legal problem with procurement it generally goes to the General Counsel, after all, procurement deals with civilian firms."

"No… you're right… but… there's still something going on here. If you're not concerned about Martinelli… Got it! Your friend, Angela, that's it, isn't it?"

Jen mumbled something indistinct.

Harm shook his head gently and smiled, "You want to try that again?" he asked.

Jen glared across the table at him, 'Honestly he is the most provoking man I know! And sometimes he's just too damned smart for his own good! It's a good job that he's mine…' a devilish grin appeared on her faced.

"Well?" Harm asked, "What's going through the devious little mind of yours?"

Jen smiled as if he'd just paid her a compliment, which in a way he had, or so she supposed. "I was just thinking," she said to him an airy voice, "that it's a damn good job I'm your wife!"

"Oh, why's that?" Harm asked, sitting back and preparing to enjoy the joke he knew was coming.

"Because, if I wasn't then you, Mister Harmon David Rabb Junior, would be the last of your line!"

"How do you figure that?" Harm asked momentarily diverted.

"Because I'm damned sure that there isn't another woman in the world that would put up with your crap long enough to have your babies!" Jen said triumphantly, her grin masking the smile of triumph she allowed herself, 'That should have thrown him off the track.'

H'mm… you may have a point," Harm smiled, "but quit dropping chaff! It is Angela you're worried about, isn't it?" he persisted.

Jen's shoulders drooped and she sent a look of loathing across the table, "You are the most difficult man to throw off a trail that I've ever met! I swear you must be half bloodhound – at least!"

"Well, Meg Austin used to call me a horn-dog from time to time when I'd piss… uh when I'd gotten up her nose, but I've never been called a bloodhound before, but you know, I wouldn't be much good as an attorney if I let myself get deflected from the answers I want would I?"

"M'mph!" Jen snorted indignantly.

"Come on, Jen, is it Angela you're worried about?"

"Yes, damn it! It is! She's been warned to report to the court tomorrow! Are you happy now?" Jen demanded.

"Happy? While you're upset? Of course I'm not happy. But Angela should be all right, there are no porno tapes or adulterous affairs in her past, are there?"

Jen gave a shaky laugh, "I shouldn't think so…"

"Good, and she didn't succumb to Lindsey's wiles, did she?"

"No! Of course not!"

"So … as long as she tells the truth she's got nothing to worry about. Or, at least she won't if she keeps her temper. She hasn't got a hot temper, has she?"

Jen looked doubtful for a moment but then her face cleared, "No, I don't think so, from what she says, Tom has got a bit of a temper and she's the peacemaker in the family."

"She'll be fine then!" Harm said confidently.

"Okay… if you say so…" Jen replied, still not convinced.

Harm gave her a shrewd look but decided to let the matter lie and give Jen a chance to calm down a bit. "So... Do you want to give me a hand with the dishes, or are you going to leave it all to me while you go and put your feet up until I bring you your tea?"

Jen pretended to give the alternatives some thought, and then smiled brightly, "Feet up and tea I think! Thank you dear!"

Much later Harm lay propped on one elbow in bed as he participated in the nightly ritual of massaging anti-stretch mark cream into Jen's bump while she lay back against her pillows with a dreamy smile on her face.

Harm looked at her slyly and said in a non-consequential tone, "You know, I've been thinking about what you said earlier…"

"H'mm?" a sleepy Jen responded.

"Yeah, you know, about what you were saying about no other woman sticking around me for long enough to have my babies?"

"Yeah… well… maybe you aren't _quite_ that bad…" Jen said dreamily.

"No, I was thinking the same, because there's Terri Coulter, Beth Maartens, Kate Pike, Meg Austin…"

Jen's eyes flew open as the litany of name rolled of his tongue, "Oh! You!" she exclaimed, "Impossible!"

"Yeah, so it's a good job it's you I love, isn't it?" Harm said with a disarming grin and a light kiss to Jen's navel.

"I'll have to think about that!" Jen fumed, but the laughter in her eyes gave her away.

**xcii-xcii-xcii-xcii-xcii**

Loren's brooding silence during the drive into Headquarters the following morning, together with Jen's worries about Angela having to appear in the witness box caused warning flags to be run to the peak of Harm's personal yard-arm. However, his, "You okay?" Met only with a glare reminiscent of the old Loren Singer and so with a soundless whistle, Harm turned his attention back to the road and respected his friend's silence.

Loren was still quiet throughout the signing in and collection of her building pass, causing Staff Sergeant Raoul Hernandez to raise an eyebrow at Harm while Loren was head down singing the log-book, but the only answer Harm felt able to give was a slight shake of the head before Loren straightened up and it was Harm's turn to sign the log.

Watching the two officers walk across the foyer to the elevator Raoul; turned to Julia Somers, "Hey, MLS, what's gone wrong there?"

Julia glowered up at him from where she sat writing up the silent hours report. If she ever got her hands those two damned fibbies… she'd… she'd do something to earn that blasted nickname, and if her dearly beloved persisted on calling her by it, then he was in for some very uncomfortable nights on the couch!

"I wouldn't know," she said in a poisonously sweet voice. "A long time ago, a Sergeant I used to respect advised me never to speculate about officers."

Raoul grinned, and clapped a hand theatrically to his chest and took a staggered paced backwards, "Ouch! That hurt!"

Julia looked at where he stood, his left hand clamped against the right side of his chest. "Wrong hand, wrong side," she said dryly, and returned her attention to the report.

Raoul grinned, looked down, and muttered "Well, I'll be damned!"

He almost didn't hear the sotto-voce, "Probably!" from behind him as he spun on his heels, a welcoming smile on his face as Commander Saunders approached the desk, "Good morning, ma'am!"

**xcii-xcii-xcii-xcii-xcii**

Harm collected his cup of coffee from the galley and returned to his office, where after an appreciative sip of the brew – he was still restricted to instant coffee at home – he picked up the top file from his in-try, thankfully it no longer overflowed with LSO files. It looked as if the Admiral had finally gotten over his snit. But he wasn't given much chance to enjoy the coffee, or the sense of freedom from oppression as almost instantly a knock on his door jamb had him looking up to see who had dared to interrupt him before his caffeine levels had risen.

"What can I do for you, Mac?" he asked as he indicated that she should come in and take a seat.

"Oh, I won't stay, it looks like you're busy," she smiled, indicating the coffee cup, "But I just had to tell someone they're here!"

"I take it I'm the someone," he answered with an easy grin, "But who, or what are the they, that have just arrived?"

"My orders for LeJeune! I report on December First!"

"So… your monitor came through! Congratulations, Mac! Or…" he eyed her carefully, "Is it?"

Mac finally took advantage of his invitation to sit. "Of course it is! But yes, of course, I have some mixed feelings. I've been here for six years, it's only natural that I'll miss my friends here, and some who aren't even friends. But in some ways, I'm glad to be going. I mean Tiner's heading for OCS, can you really imagine this place, or the Admiral, without Tiner?"

"Good point!" Harm agreed, and then in a slightly more cautious tine, "Uh… you have told Harriet that you were applying for transfer, haven't you?"

"Of course I have, she was one of the first people I spoke to when I first started to think about it! She said that she hoped I really would think hard about it before I put in my application… Oh, my God! Yeah, I did speak to Harriet about the idea of transferring, but I don't think I've mentioned it since! Oh Harm, help!"

The look of dismay on Mac's face was so comical that Harm was hard put not to laugh out loud, instead, he merely grinned and shook his head, "Oh no! You dug yourself into this hole, it's up to you to climb out!" He paused for a second until Mac had opened her mouth to speak and then cut her off, "Don't tell me that a Lieutenant Colonel of Marines is scared of a Lieutenant in the Navy!"

Mac glared at him for a few moments and then her own, albeit reluctant grin spread across her face, "Damn straight I am! Especially if that Lieutenant is Harriet Beauchamp-Sims-Roberts!"

"Another good point! So… should I leave the door open so I can hear your pathetic whimpers over Harriet's screams of rage?"

"You'd better hope she doesn't kill me flyboy, because if she does, it's you I'm coming back to haunt!" Mac threatened, her grin broadening as she stood up, "Oh well, now I know how the Christians felt as they were herded out into the Colosseum!"

"Ave Caesar!" Harm grinned as she left the office, and with a shake of his head he picked up his coffee cup, and as he did so he realised that another visitor was in the doorway, her hand poised to knock.

Hastily swallowing the sip he'd managed to take, he said, "Come on in Loren, and take the weight of your feet. What can I do for you?"

Loren sat, holding a large buff envelope on her lap, "Firstly I want to say sorry for being so uncommunicative this morning, but I had a lot on my mind, and I needed to think things through."

"Court?" Harm asked sympathetically

Loren nodded, "Yeah, and that brings me to this." She tapped the envelope, "But before I hand it over to you, and I know it's a lot to ask, especially with Jen in her last trimester, but I need to know that should anything happen to me to prevent me looking after Sasha, that you and Jen would be willing to look after her until I regain a position where I can."

"Of course we'd look after her! She's family! But nothing's going to happen to you, so this is all redundant!"

"Um… no, it's not redundant, at all Harm. In this envelope is a copy of my will, naming you and Jen as Sasha's guardians, as her nearest next of kin after me and Sergei, and appointing you as her guardians in the event of my death. Face it Harm," she overrode his incipient protest, "I could get killed in a car wreck, or get run over by a bus at any time, and if I get deployed, then who is to say that at some stage I wouldn't end up in a free fire zone. Oh, I know it's unlikely, but look what happened to Bud, at a ground-breaking for a school, damn it! Or like any of us here in the States, if there's another terrorist attack, it could just be that I'm in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Well, yes… in theory any of that could happen… but…"

"But nothing, Harm. I have to think for the future, for Sasha's future more than mine, and make sure that she's provided for. And on that subject, I have taken out life insurance naming you and slash or Jen as beneficiaries, so that there will be funds to help with raising my daughter, and enough in capital to at least start her college fund." She lifted her head and stared him between the eyes, "She will not be a charity case!"

Harm looked at Loren and his heart filled with pride in her, she had never looked so proud, so determined and so defiant in all the time that he had known her, and in the face of that determination, he could only bow and accept defeat as gracefully as he could. "Very well, it shall be as you wish."

The rigidity flowed out of Loren and her posture relaxed. "Thank you," she said, "Now there are only two more items on my agenda, you'll be relieved to know. I am testifying today; I'm next on the witness list, and if things should go wrong, then you may need to look after Sasha until at least tomorrow when I hope Judge Morris will give me a chance to apologise to the court, and not just throw away the key. Secondly, there is a chance that I will have to face charges of conduct unbecoming, arising out of my testimony. If I do, I may have to face some brig time, and I need to know that you and Jen are prepared to step up for Sasha in that case."

"Of course we are!" Harm said instantly, "But let's think this through, Loren. You are an attorney. Unlike Pearson or Martinelli, you know how the game is played, and you know that Baxter's strategy is to undermine the witnesses and try to make their testimony seem unreliable. We all know you have a reputation for having a short temper, and it may be that Baxter is relying on that reputation. But that reputation was earned in the days before you had Sasha. I don't think I've heard you yell at anyone since you came back to work, and the snide comments have totally disappeared. Okay, you've snapped at the odd individual here and there, but we've all done that, and you gave Williams a prize chewing out for being a bully, but you are much calmer than I believe Baxter thinks you are. So, make use of your training as an attorney, keep your calm, and I'm pretty sure you won't end up in contempt of court. As for charges arising out of your testimony… well… I don't think Babs will raise any, and if Baxter tries, I'm pretty sure that the convening authority will turn him down flat. He hasn't won any friends in that quarter! So, all that hard work in putting that envelope together may not be entirely wasted, but I'm pretty sure it's premature!"

Loren managed a smile and asked, "How do you manage to say just the right thing?"

Harm grinned again, "Well I could say it was a natural skill, an inborn talent, but the truth is, Jen's been training me!"

Loren chuckled, "That figures!" she rose to her feet and laid the envelope on his desk. "Keep hold of that, and if anything goes wrong, use the contents however you have to!"

"Okay… but it won't go wrong, Loren!"

Loren took a quick glance at her watch, "It will if you don't shift your butt and get it down to the conference room for staff call!"

**xcii-xcii-xcii-xcii-xcii**

Loren hurried back along the hallway from the conference room, calling out "Make hole there!" to those ahead of her. Staff call had run for about twenty minutes longer than usual for a mid-week morning and now she was in danger of being late for court. Hurrying into her office, she closed and latched the door, pulled the blinds shut and breathlessly changed from summer whites into her dress whites.

Another glance at her watch told her she had four minutes to get upstairs, so slinging her purse strap over her shoulder and grasping her cover, she strode, almost ran in fact, from the office, along the edge of the bull pen towards the double doors.

She had made it about half way when a voice from the middle of the bull pen reached her ears, "Go get him ma'am!"

That one solitary voice it seemed had roused a disjointed chorus as further cries of "Good luck, ma'am", "You show 'em, Lieutenant!" and similar echoed around the room. Loren stopped in sheer amazement and turned to face the crowd in the bull pen, all whom were now on their feet, with smiling, friendly faces turned towards her.

Loren gulped, and managed a creditable, "Thank you, people!" before she was obliged to turn and continue towards the court room.

The disturbance, as brief as it had been, was quite loud enough to bring Admiral Chegwidden to his office outer door. Seeing the bull pen return to normal, he cast his eyes about looking for any possible reason for the disturbance. His frowning glance fell on Harm. Chegwidden grunted, at least here was someone, who if he wasn't responsible for the disturbance, probably knew what the hell had just happened in his headquarters.

"Rabb!"

"Sir?"

"What just happened, here?"

"As far as I can make out, sir, it was a spontaneous demonstration of support for Lieutenant Rabb."

"What? Why?" Chegwidden asked, frankly astonished by Harm's answer.

"The Lieutenant is down to testify in the Lindsey case a little later in the day, sir, and it should seem that the people felt that a display of support and encouragement was in order!"

"They did, did they?" Chegwidden's eyebrows rose halfway to where his hairline should have been, and he shook his head as he turned away. Harm could almost have sworn later that he heard the former Seal mutter, "Well, I'll be damned!"

Harm stared after the Admiral for a second or two, and the recollecting that he had an appointment coming due, he checked his watch. Seeing that he had about ten minutes in hand, he hurried along the hallway to the stairs and taking them two at a time, he quickly reached the next floor. As he had expected Angela Hartmann was sat on the bench outside the courtroom, a space between her and Loren, with an impassive MP standing nearby to ensure that there was no collusion between witnesses.

"Hi Angela, remember me? I'm Jen's husband."

Angela started out of her reverie and tried to stand up, but was prevented by Harm's flat hand gesture. "No stay where you are, I just wanted to let you know that I'll try to be in court for your testimony, so that you won't feel entirely alone. It shouldn't be too bad, a bit nerve-wracking maybe, but that's all. I'm sure Commander Saunders has briefed you, so remember, just tell the truth, but don't volunteer any unnecessary information. Keep your temper, the defence attorney's strategy is based on showing that prosecution witnesses are unreliable, so he's been needling them, each and every one, so don't let him provoke you. He's a bully, so your best weapon will be a serene smile and a calm manner. That will really get under his skin!" Harm spoke deliberately loud enough for Loren to hear his advice as well, and as he turned he gave her a broad wink, to which she responded with a rather pale-faced smile.

As he turned, he saw Lieutenant Martinelli, accompanied by a Marine MP approach the courtroom. Taking advantage of the open door he gave Angela a last encouraging nod and slipped into the courtroom, taking post just inside the door.

Martinelli marched down the centre aisle and halted between the prosecution and defence tables, looking white but calm. Judge Morris peered down at her and said gravely, "I understand that you wish to address the court, Lieutenant Martinelli?"

"Yes, Your Honour." Martinelli paused briefly to lick her suddenly dry lips. "I wish to apologise to the court, the officers of the court and to the panel for my unofficer like outburst of yesterday afternoon. It was unworthy of me as an officer in the United States Navy, and although I intended no disrespect to the court, I am sorry if it appeared I was contemptuous of the dignity and the authority of the court. That was not my intention. I have nothing but the deepest respect for both. I can only say, once again that I am sorry."

"Very well, Lieutenant Martinelli, your apology is acceptable and accepted. And although I will allow that you were grossly provoked, I cannot and will not allow such outbursts in my court, and I will have no hesitation in the case of further outbreaks to visit my most severe displeasure on the guilty parties. Lieutenant Martinelli, you are released from confinement, but as you have not been discharged as a witness, please take your seat in the witness-box! Remember, you are still under oath."

Judge Morris waited until Martinelli was settled, and then, with an expression heavily loaded with disfavour, he looked across at the defence table. "Commander Baxter, do you wish to continue with your cross examination?"

"Yes, Your Honour, thank you!" Baxter stood and approached the witness-box, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

Harm gave a guilty glance at his watch as Baxter stood and quietly opened the door just sufficiently to allow him egress from the court room and hurried back towards his office.


	93. Attention to Orders?

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 93  
>Attention to Orders?<strong>

Although she knew it was less than forty minutes, it seemed to Loren that she had been parked on the hard wooden bench for ever and a day, but at last the door from the court room opened and Lieutenant Martinelli walked out, unescorted this time Loren noted, and made her way a little down the hall to take a seat on another of the hallway benches. The next few minutes ticked away in silence as Loren and the Petty Officer to whom Harm had briefly spoken surreptitiously glanced at each other, wondering which of the was going to be the first to be called.

They didn't have to wait very long before the courtroom door opened again and Staff Sergeant Heaney, the MP on Courtroom Duty gravely intoned, "Lieutenant Loren Rabb!"

Loren stood and gathered her purse and cover. Making sure the one was correctly slung over her shoulder and the other tucked properly beneath her arm, she nodded at Heaney, who to her surprise, dropped her a subtle wink and a quietly whispered, "Go get him, ma'am!"

Loren just managed to fight down a surprised smile and squaring her shoulders she paced down the central aisle of the courtroom, halting in front of the witness box and turning to face Staff Sergeant Ortega, today's Bailiff.

Ortega handed her the Bible and commanded her to raise her right hand in the air. Loren smiled briefly acknowledging that although she knew the oath and could recite it backwards if need be, that the Marine had his part to play, as she considered, not for the first time, that a court-martial was not wholly divorced from the theatre.

The oath taking finished, Staff Sergeant Ortega said, "Please take your seat in the witness-box, ma'am."

Loren took her seat, placing her purse neatly on her lap, and the cover on top of the front wall of the witness-box. That done, she took a deep breath and looked up to see that Commander Saunders was already on her feet, and with an encouraging smile on her face, the same smile she saw to her gratified surprise was on the face of Legalman One Robbins, the Judge's Legalman and today's court recorder.

Loren had hoped that Harm might be able to be present for her testimony, but although disappointed, she was well aware that he had his own duties to attend to.

Now, as Babs Saunders approached, Loren took another deep breath and mentally squared her shoulders.

"Please state your rank, name and current duty station for the record." Babs asked.

"Lieutenant Loren Maria Rabb, Judge Advocate General's Corps HQ, Falls Church," Loren stated confidently.

"Thank you. Are you acquainted with the accused, Commander Theodore Lindsey?"

"I am."

"Can you tell the court please, how you first became acquainted with the accused?"

"Objection, relevance!" Commander Baxter rose to his feet and addressed the judge.

"Commander Saunders?" Judge Morris asked.

"Establishing that there was an acquaintanceship Your Honour, the witness' motives for maintaining that acquaintanceship, and the severing of that acquaintanceship."

"To what end?" the Judge asked.

"Goes to prior established patterns of behaviour on the part of the accused, Your Honour."

Admiral Morris thought for a moment, "Very well, I'll allow it, but move it on Commander! Objection overruled!"

"Thank you, Your Honour," Babs replied and turned back to Loren, "Would you please describe for the court, the circumstances of your first meeting with the accused…"

"Yes, it was at the JAG Christmas Eve service in Two Thousand One…" Loren began her narrative, gently guided through it by Babs, and ended in Loren's description of Lindsey's attempted sexual assault, Loren's defence and her subsequent warning that if he ever approached her again, she would speak to his wife."

"And what effect did that have on the accused's conduct towards you?" Bas asked.

"He stopped trying to contact me," Loren said.

"But you didn't report him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"My own actions at the start of our acquaintanceship don't show me in a particularly good light, and their disclosure would have run counter to what I saw as my best professional interests at that time."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Bas smiled and turned back towards the prosecution table, throwing a casual, "Your witness," over her shoulder.

Baxter got to his feet and with what Loren recognised as false a smile as any she had ever used, approached the wines-box.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," he greeted her affably.

"Good morning, sir," Loren replied in a non-committal voice, but with a flare of suspicion in her eyes.

"Lieutenant, you have just testified that you sought the accused's company because you were unhappy with the way your personal and professional life were going. You gave a reasonable account of what was wrong with your personal life. What was wrong professionally?"

"I made some mistakes," Loren admitted.

"And what sort of mistakes?"

"I got fixated in my ambitions, and I stopped seeing people as people. Instead I saw them as either obstacles in my path to be removed, or tools to be used to further my ambitions. As a result I had made myself, deservedly, thoroughly unpopular, and that unpopularity isolated me and that made me miserable, which made me even less sympathetic to my co-workers, and so even more unpopular. A vicious circle of my own making."

"Ah… yes… your ambitions. We'll return to those shortly. The court has just heard you testify that you didn't report the sexual assault that you allege Commander Lindsey committed against you, because you… ah… thought it would run counter to what you then saw as your best professional interests."

Before Loren could formulate an answer, Babs Saunders was on her feet, "Your Honour, is there a question there?"

"I didn't hear one," Admiral Morris replied and glared at Baxter, "Move it along, Counsel!"

"Yes, Your Honour. I was just about to ask the witness, what did you consider to be your best professional interests at the time of the alleged assault?"

"Silence." Loren replied.

"Silence. How would silence best serve you?"

"By preventing any breath of scandal from attaching itself to my name."

"I see… and what sort of scandal could possibly see arising out of an assault on you?"

"The sort of scandal that could put paid to my ambitions."

"Ah… your ambitions… again! Which were?"

"At the time I was focussed on becoming the first female Judge Advocate General of the Navy," Loren said her head up as she stared her challenge at Baxter to laugh.

Baxter didn't laugh, but he did have an irritatingly condescending smirk on his face, "A laudable ambition, but a trifle…shall we say elevated for a mere Lieutenant, don't you think?"

"No." Loren said flatly.

"But it would have been a massive scandal wouldn't it, and would have brought all sorts of skeletons to light, skeletons that you have taken very good care to keep locked away in the darkest of closets, would it not?"

Loren frowned, it sounded as if Baxter had discovered the unsavoury secrets of her past, well that wouldn't matter. She wasn't the first teenage girl in history to have fallen pregnant, and she very much doubted that she would be the last. However…"

"I'm not quite sure to what it is you are referring." She said.

"Well… a series of assignations that could be interpreted as being of a romantic nature would hardly have gone down well with your husband, would it?"

Loren looked at him in astonishment, "My what?"

"Your husband. You can't deny that you were married at the time you allege my client assaulted you, surely. After all you were a Lieutenant by that time, and you were, I believe, a Petty Officer when you married him, so you must have been married at the time you tried to take advantage of Commander Lyndsey's good nature?"

Babs Saunders rose to her feet again, so taken aback by Baxter's last question that she was lost for words trying to formulate an objection. Even Judge Morris was staring at Baxter with blank astonishment on his face.

Loren shook her head, "I am not, and I have never been married!" she told Baxter.

"Oh, come on Lieutenant, it's a matter of public record, you are married to Commander Harmon Rabb, the father of your child!"

Loren looked at Baxter in total disbelief. "I don't know where you got your information from, Commander, but you are way off base!"

"Lieutenant, may I remind you that you are under oath, and that under the UCMJ the penalties for perjury are severe! Now I will ask you once again, were you not Legalman Second Class Jennifer Coates prior to your marriage to Commander Harmon Rabb – and that raises a pretty question of fraternisation, right there, as does the fact that you have been permitted to serve in the same command as your husband – and that your husband is the father of your child, Alexandra Maria Rabb?"

"Your Honour!" Babs started to object, but Judge Morris was staring at Baxter with an expression of horrified fascination, and hesitated for a second, long enough to enable Loren to answer.

"Commander Baxter, there is no need for you to remind me that I am under oath! But you have got your facts hopelessly muddled! I have never been known as Jennifer Coates. Prior to my legal change of name I was Loren Maria Singer. I have never been married, least of all to Commander Rabb!"

Baxter blinked, but attempted a recovery, "But you don't deny that Commander Rabb is the father of your child – and if you are not married, then your illegitimate child!"

"Of course I deny it!"

"But… but…" Baxter floundered, "if Commander Rabb isn't the father of your child, then who is?"

"Objection! Irrelevant! Your Honour, this whole line of questioning is irrelevant!"

"I agree, Counsellor. Commander Baxter, what are you playing at?"

"Your honour, this witness has close links to Commander Rabb. Last year my client was tasked with auditing recent activities within JAG, and Commander Rabb featured prominently in some of the more discreditable episodes investigated by my client. There is much more to this case than is superficially apparent, and I intend to demonstrate that this witness' testimony is a pack of lies, concocted for the sole purpose of obtaining revenge on my client for the report that he compiled into the activities of JAG HQ!"

"Commander, you are barking up the wrong tree!" Admiral Morris warned him. Stiles Morris wished he could explain that he was personally acquainted with the circumstances surrounding the marriage of Jen and Harm, and he knew too the truth about Alexandra's parentage, but of course, he could not divulge any of that knowledge for fear of appearing biased against the defence.

"Nevertheless, Your Honour, I respectfully submit that there is more to the relationship between this witness, Commander Rabb, and my client than is readily apparent. I am merely trying to solve a mystery here! If the Commander is not the father of the witness' child, why was the child's birth registered in the name of Rabb? I have here a copy of the statutory Certificate of Live Birth from the Bob Wilson Naval Medical Centre, San Diego, plainly showing that the child's name as Rabb and the father's name as…" Baxter's voice faded as he stared in horror at the certificate, then he gulped and whispered, "Zhukov… and the mother's name as Singer… but I don't understand…" and for the first time he turned to look at his client, who had his elbows braced on the table and his face buried in his hands.

"I… I don't understand…" he repeated in a whimpering whisper and then made a determined recovery, "If the father's name was Zhukov, why did you register the child's name as Rabb? And why did you change your name to Rabb?"

Loren looked at the Judge. She knew that Baxter was on the verge of opening, in open court, a whole can of worms that could have far-reaching diplomatic and international consequences. "Your Honour," she said urgently, "Counsel is treading on dangerous ground. This is a matter that could well affect national security!"

Judge Morris looked startled. "Is this some sort of ploy, Lieutenant?" he asked sternly.

"I'm still under oath, Your Honour, so no, it is not a ploy!"

Admiral Morris stared at her for long moments, trying to judge her honesty and then gave a concise nod. "This court is adjourned until thirteen hundred. Counsel, and this witness, in my chambers in five minutes!"

"All rise!" Staff Sergeant Ortega boomed as the Judge rose from his seat and made for the side door.

Five minutes later Legalman One Robbins ushered Babs, Loren and Baxter into the judge's chambers, and then with another encouraging smile at Loren, she closed the door behind them.

Judge Morris stared at the three, "All right Lieutenant, what's all this about national security?"

"Sir, my baby's father is Sergei Zhukov. He is Commander Rabb's half-brother…"

"Convenient!" Baxter sneered. The five minute respite had gone some way to restoring his mental equilibrium, "We are suddenly presented with a previously unknown half-brother, emerging no doubt from the closet as in the finest Restoration Comedies!"

"Commander!" Admiral Morris said warningly.

"Not from a closet, sir. But from the Siberian forests." Loren hurried to explain, "I think everyone billeted here at Falls Church knows that Commander Rabb's father was MIA in Vietnam. What isn't generally known that after his capture by the North Vietnamese he was, together with other POWs, handed over to the Soviet Union for interrogation. The Soviet Union then, and now the Russian Federation have always denied that they received any prisoners from the North Vietnamese. It is possible that some of these prisoners are still alive in Russia, and if word gets out that the USA has proof of the existence of one of these prisoners, then the lives of those survivors could well be put at risk. And with the press in court, there is no doubt that however many gagging orders might be issued, one news outlet or another would think it a worthwhile risk to take in publishing that information. There is also of course the potential for a diplomatic incident on a huge scale as Russia continues to deny the existence of these prisoners on the one hand and on the other hand the families of those still MIA demand to know whether their loved ones ended up incarcerated in a gulag!"

"I can accept that, sir," Baxter conceded, "but I still fail to see how it connects to this case!"

"Because, sir, you can't see the forest for all the trees in the way!" Loren said in exasperation. "The proof we have of at least one of those POWs having been in Russia is Sergei Zhukov, whose life may also be endangered if this gets out into the public domain. Commander Rabb's father eventually escaped from the prison camp in which he was being held, but without papers was unable to get out of the country. He was taken in by a farming family, and eventually developed a relationship with the farmer's sister. The posthumous fruit of that relationship was Sergei Zhukov. I met him while he was over here on a visit. My daughter is the result of a short-term relationship I had with Sergei Zhukov, the illegitimate son of Lieutenant Harmon Rabb, Senior, and the half-brother of Commander Harmon Rabb, Junior."

"Embarrassing for you," Baxter commented.

"Yes, it is," Loren agreed, "but my embarrassment is small scale compared to the tremendous damage this sort of news could do to current Russian-American relations!"

Judge Morris nodded, his mind had been frantically racing, even as he listened to what Loren had to say. "Very well. Commander Baxter, if you are prepared to accept that Sergei Zhukov is related to Commander Rabb and the rest of his family, I will allow that much into evidence. However I agree with Lieutenant Rabb, to expose fully the nature of that connection would do grave harm to international relations and may, if there are any MIAs surviving, be as good as signing a death warrant for them. We simply cannot take that chance!"

"Agreed, sir!" Baxter replied crisply.

Judge Morris nodded, "Good, Commander Baxter stand fast; Commander Saunders, Lieutenant Rabb dismissed."

Admiral Morris waited until the two women had left his office before he fixed Baxter with a steely eyed stare. "Just what was that pitiful performance out there Commander? I have never seen such an inept display of disconnected, extraneous, irrelevant and totally wrong so-called facts! Where in hell did you get the idea that Loren Rabb was married at all? Let alone to Commander Rabb? And what were you trying to do, bringing his name, and his wife's into a trial that had nothing to do with either of them? I'll tell you what it sounded like to me; it sounded like you were attempting to have Commander Rabb's name and that of his wife brought into the record so that a case could be made for raising fraternisation charges against them. Well let me tell you, that won't fly. They were granted a waiver after counselling and they then lost no time in marrying. So all was legal and above board. Similarly you appeared to threaten Lieutenant Rabb with perjury because her answers to your questions didn't tally with your preconceptions."

Admiral Morris shook his head, "Never in all my years as an attorney or as a judge have I ever seen such a display of arrogant incompetence. You only had to turn around for second to see the frantic head shakes your own client was giving. I sincerely hope that you didn't carry out your own research, and even if you didn't you should have checked the accuracy of your information, because a few simple questions asked in and around JAG HQ would have been sufficient to inform you that Lieutenant Rabb was not married to Commander Rabb, and that Legalman One Rabb is now employed in the SecNav's office. If I were you, Commander Baxter, I would give serious consideration to resigning my commission before either your client cites you for providing an ineffective defence, or the officer with court martial authority over you decides to charge you with conduct unbecoming an officer and dereliction of duty. You may also be assured that your conduct throughout this entire trial will be included in my judge's notes and comments so that in future years your behaviour and demeanour can be held up as an object lesson in how not to conduct a criminal defence. That is all Commander, you may go!"

**xciii-xciii-xciii-xciii-xciii**

Harm stretched and looked at his watch and decided that it was late enough that he could justify taking his lunch break and that court had probably already adjourned for lunch. Not that he reckoned he would have enough time to get anything other than a sandwich and a bottle of water from the vending machine, he had too much that he needed to do. He was anxious to find out from Loren how her testimony had gone, he had promised Angela that he would be there for her, and more importantly he had promised Jen that he would keep a friendly eye on her friend, and last but not least, he wanted to check with Mac, to find out how Harriet had reacted to her news.

Neither Mac nor Harriet were to be seen in the bull pen or in Mac's office, and with a mental shrug, Ham grabbed his cover and sauntered to the elevator where after the usual interminable-seeming wait the antique piece of machinery groaned its arrival on the Ops level and its door slid open. Harm punched the button for the first floor and rode down to that level where on quittting the elevator he turned away from the CP and walked towards the doors to the commissary.

Pausing inside the double swing doors he looked around. Loren, occupying a seat at a corner table was deep in conversation with Babs Saunders and Harm thought it probable they were discussing the trial and Loren's evidence and was a pretty good indication that Loren had not yet finished testifying.

A further look around brought him into eye to eye contact with Mac who sent a beseeching look in his direction from where she shared a table with Bud and Harriet. Reluctantly, but even now unable callously to abandon his partner, he gave another mental shrug and weaved his way across the room to their table.

"Mac, Bud, Harriet, may I?" he greeted them, indicating the only unoccupied chair at the table.

"Please!" Mac said with heartfelt relief.

Harm sat down and with a fair assumption of ignorance, he looked at Mac's pained expression, Bud's exasperated expression and the near to tears look on Harriet's face. "Okay… what's going on? Harriet you look like someone just ran over your kitten!"

"It's the Colonel, sir! She's leaving!" Harriet accompanied her words with an accusatory glare at Mac, who winced as if it wasn't the first time she'd heard them.

Harm debated for a second as to how he was going to play this and then decided, "I know, Harriet. But you know too, that's the way it is in the military. What is it that they say? 'Don't get too comfortable with a billet or the people there'. You know this could happen to any of us, at any time!"

"But she asked to go!" Harriet burst out.

"Yeah, I know. But Harriet think about it. All of us at this table have been exceptionally lucky in that we've been able to stay where we are for as long as we have. Of the four of us, you've been here the least amount of time, and you've been here how long now?"

"Since ninety seven, sir," Harriet answered unwillingly.

"There you are: six years and more… Mac has a year on you, and I've got even more than that. So, like I said, we've been lucky, all of us. And you and Bud have been doubly lucky. There aren't many married couples who get a waiver allowing them to serve together, no matter what fictional TADs are concocted."

"But the Colonel asked for this transfer!" Harriet persisted.

"Yes, she did, Sweetie, and we've both tried to explain to you that if the Colonel wants any further promotion, then she has to hold a command appointment or the Corps won't give her a second look!" Bud explained, for what to Harm's ears was not the first time.

"It's a good fit, Harriet, and it's only down at LeJeune. It gives Mac a chance to be in command, and as the CO of the MP battalion down there, I'll bet she could get a helo ride back to Andrews at any time if she needed to be here urgently."

"And I will be back – regularly!" Mac promised. "I'm not giving up my Georgetown apartment, and I'm not giving up my friends, or my Godson! I will be here for birthdays and Christmas! Harriet I wouldn't miss Christmas Eve at your place, and then Chaplain Turner's Christmas message, not for all the coffee in Columbia!"

"See Harriet, it's not that bad, and besides, you wouldn't begrudge the Mac the opportunity to advance her career, would you?" Harm asked, shelving for the forty-eleventh time his private doubts that Mac would ever get her eagles. He hoped he was wrong, but to his mind she just had too many dings in her record.

"When you put it like that, no, of course I don't begrudge it! But I still think it stinks!" Harriet declared, standing up, "And now, if you don't mind, I'd like a little time on my own to try to come to come to terms with this betrayal!"

Bud watched his wife stalk away, the picture of offended dignity and winced, "Don't take it too personally, ma'am," he said to Mac in a concerned tone of voice. "She doesn't really mean that, and once she's had time to think things through, she'll come round. It's just that you didn't give her any warning, any time to get used to the idea before you told her that your orders had been cut."

"I know, Bud… but I couldn't tell her anything other than I was thinking of asking for a transfer, not until things were more definite, and I didn't hear a word from my monitor after I submitted my application until my orders arrived this morning!"

Bud nodded his acknowledgement of Mac's explanation, "If you'll forgive me, ma'am, that excuse doesn't really hold water. Harriet would have appreciated a word to the effect that you had submitted your application." He shrugged helplessly and offered a tentative half-smile to try and soften the impact of his words, "I mean, from her perspective, no matter how you might regard it, this has come like a bolt from the blue!"

"I realise that now Bud, but…"

She was interrupted by Bud standing up and gathering up the debris from his and Harriet's meals, "By your leave, ma'am, sir," he nodded at Mac and Harm in turn, "I'm going to try and speak with my wife."

Mac watched him go, a look of profound dismay on her face, "Oh, crap, I really screwed the pooch on that one, didn't I, Harm?"

"I'd say so, yes," Harm agreed.

"You don't have to be quite so quick to agree with me this time around!" Mac said ruefully.

"What? You'd rather I lied?" Harm challenged her.

Mac subsided, "No, of course not, but…"

"Yeah, there's always a but." Harm fell silent waiting for Mac to say something else and when she didn't he asked, "You going to be all right?"

Mac shrugged and managed a weak grin, "Hell, yeah. Bud's right, Harriet will get over it, eventually. Until then… well… I'm a Marine, we can take everything life throws at us!"

Harm looked at her and shook his head in mock sorrow, "Damn Jarhead," he said softly.

"Aw, gee, thanks, Squid!" Mac returned but with a glimmer of her usual fire showing through.

Harm looked up at the clock on the commissary wall and said, "Look, I've got to go. I promised Jen I'd keep an eye on her friend…"

"Yeah, so go. I'll be fine!" Mac replied and watched with a heavy heart as Harm stood, turned and walked away. At one time, not so long ago, she told herself, he would have waited with her and coaxed her back into a better mood. But things had changed so much… since… since… since he'd got married.

It didn't take Harm long to track down his quarry. He'd decided to grab his sandwich and a bottle of mineral water from the vending machine on the second floor to find that Angela was there before him.

"Hi Angela, how's it going?"

Angela turned away from the machine, a can of soda in her hand, as she heard his voice and then looked up at Harm, 'No wonder that Jen feels so safe with him around,' she thought. She'd met him only once before at the dinner party Jen had thrown not long after the disastrous trip to Belleville, but Harm had been at home then, relaxed and in a casual shirt and pants. Today in the full panoply of a Naval Commander with his gold wings above his rack of ribbons he was a far more imposing figure beyond even the impression cast by his height and size.

Realising that he had an inquiring eyebrow cocked on amusement at her rather obvious visual inspection she grinned rather sheepishly, "Sorry," she muttered.

"As long as you liked what you saw, I won't worry," Harm said and chuckled as a counterpoint to her nervous giggle.

"Any word on when you'll be going in?" Harm asked as their laughter died away.

Angela shook her head, "No, sir. The blonde officer… the one who was at your dinner party?" Harm nodded in recognition of whom she meant, "She was still in there when the judge adjourned for lunch. But court reconvenes at thirteen hundred."

"It's not far off that, now," Harm remarked, "So let me walk you up?"

Angela gave him a look filled with gratitude, "It's not necessary, I can find my own way, sir. But… thank you!"

"My pleasure!" Harm assured her.

**xciii-xciii-xciii-xciii-xciii**

Having conducted Angela upstairs and along to the witness bench, Harm took a minute to assure her that all she had to do was to tell the truth and keep calm. Adding that he would be back shortly, if he could, to keep her company and then to add his moral support while she was in the witness-box.

Making his temporary excuses, Harm dashed back to his own office to carry out a hurried check on his e-mails, and to see if any new messages had landed in his in-tray. The two that had come in during his absence were minor in nature and non-time critical, so with a sigh of relief he was about to rush back to the courtroom when his cell phone buzzed.

Snatching it out of his pocket, he recognised the calling number as being Jen's desk phone, "Hi sweetheart. Is this urgent? It's not a good time. I promised Angela that I'd be there for her during her testimony."

"Okay," Jen's voice was incisive, "I'll make this quick. I know you don't like me getting involved in cases, but there's been something niggling at the back of my mind ever since we found the connection between Lindsey and Vukovic. So I did some digging in BUPERS records…"

"Jen!" Harm protested.

"I know, I know, but just pin your ears back and listen!"

"Go on!" Harm said resignedly.

"Lieutenant Pearson's orders for her PCS to Pearl were signed by Vice Admiral Wyatt he's with BUPERS here at the Pentagon."

"So?"

"So, he's also the Admiral that signed Vukovic's orders for Pearl, and he's the Admiral that signed off on Lindsey last year, recommending that Lindsey should face no consequences in the wake of his JAG audit, citing that an inquiry revealed that Lindsey acted out of an excess of zeal, rather than out of malice!"

"That's bullshit!" Harm exclaimed.

"Of course it is!" Jen agreed, "But I don't know how useful that information us, or whether you can use it all!"

"Oh, I think Babs Saunders can use it! But what put you on to it?"

"I remember seeing Admiral Wyatt's name on Vukovic's SRB and wondered why a Line Admiral should be signing orders for a JAG, and then as I dug deeper…"

"Okay, I've got it! But listen, young lady, you and I are going to have a long, serious conversation about this when I get home this evening!"

"Yeah, fine, whatever, but get this too, Wyatt's name also appears on Baxter's SRB, recommending him for his last two promotions!"

"What?" Harm yelled, nearly dropping his phone in surprise.

"Yeah, I thought that was odd too, again a Line Admiral strongly recommending a JAG for promotion!"

"That's not necessarily suspect, if Baxter was working as a Fleet Jag or an SJA, then his recommendations would come from whoever was running the ship. But yeah, his name is suddenly coming up too often. So well done. I'll drop a hint to Babs Saunders, but this doesn't mean you're out of the dog-house! We are still going to have that conversation!"

"Aw… does that mean you don't love me anymore?" Jen asked with a mischievous chuckle.


	94. Playing Hardball

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 94  
>Playing Hardball<strong>

Harm almost slammed the 'phone down on Jen in his haste to get back to the courtroom before court reconvened, but on his arrival found that Admiral Morris had already take his seat on the judge's bench, and so Harm was forced to slip silently into the court-room and watch as Loren was recalled to complete giving her evidence.

Loren calmly re-took her seat in the witness-box and dutifully acknowledged Admiral Morris' reminder that she was still under oath.

"Very well," Admiral Morris replied and then looked across to the defence table, "I believe you wish to continue your cross-examination, counsellor, but before you do, I believe you also wish to say something?"

Baxter rose to his feet, "Yes, thank you, Your Honour. The defence stipulates to the fact that Commander Harmon Rabb is not married to the witness, and is not the father of her child. The father being one Sergei Zhukov, a… a familial connection to the Rabb family."

Harm sat in thunderstruck silence, his mouth half open. What the hell had he missed? He definitely needed to speak with Loren and with Babs Saunders and find out just how much of his dirty linen had just been washed in public' By whom, and to how large a public were also burning questions. He hated what Sergei had done o Loren, but he still had no desire to see his brother fall foul of the Russian FSB, the successor organisation to the KGB. He gave himself a mental shake and pushed those concerns to one side for a moment as the Judge said, "Thank you, Counsellor, you may proceed."

"Yes, Your Honour. Lieutenant, as I said earlier, the accused compiled a report, an audit if you will on the activities of JAG Corps Headquarters. An audit, which it must be said was highly critical of that organisation. There has been a degree of speculation as to how the accused acquired his knowledge of certain circumstances…"

"Objection, Your Honour!" Babs said, almost wearily, as she climbed to her feet. "Relevance?"

"I'm tempted to agree. Commander Baxter, where are you going with this?"

"Your Honour, I will show that Lieutenant Sing… uh… I beg pardon… that Lieutenant Rabb was the prime source of Commander Lindsey's information on the inner workings of JAG HQ at the period in question, and that her testimony today is an act of revenge for what she believes is the accused's failure to… uh… uphold his end of the bargain which she believed had been struck!"

Judge Morris sat back and thought. Baxter had just successfully planted the idea that Rabb's evidence was untrustworthy. Morris could only blame himself for that. He had opened the door to what amounted to testimony from Baxter, but he now couldn't instruct Baxter to move on nor, for fear of appearing based in the defence's favour, could he instruct the panel to disregard counsel's last remarks.

With an almost apologetic glance at Babs Saunders he said "Objection overruled. Continue please, Counsel, but make it fast!"

"Thank you, Your Honour. Lieutenant Rabb, you testified earlier that you were in the habit of… ah… venting… I believe you said, your frustrations with the situation at JAG, and with the people with whom you worked."

Loren flushed and shifted a little uncomfortably, but she held Baxter's gaze with her own, "Yes, that is correct."

"And one, just one of these frustrations, was that the senior attorneys at JAG were conspiring against you, so that you only handled minor cases?"

"Yes."

"Then on a subsequent occasion, did you not complain that when an opportunity for career advancement arose, you were overlooked, and the appointment was handed to another, junior, attorney whom you classified at that time as a 'duffer'?"

"Yes."

"And on yet a further occasion during one of rants against the injustices of JAG Headquarters…"

"Objection! Facts not in evidence!" Babs interrupted.

"Sustained!" Judge Morris rapped. "There is no evidence that injustices were perpetrated by any of the personnel at JAG Headquarters, nor that injustice was endemic to that Headquarters! Watch it counsellor!"

"My apologies Your Honour. Lieutenant, let me re-phrase, did you not complain to the accused on a further occasion that you had been, unjustly you felt, held under suspicion of depositing a file in the car belonging to Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie? A file which she as the prosecutor in a court-martial was forbidden from seeing? And that you were accused of depositing that file with the sole intention of inflicting damage on the Colonel's career?"

"Yes and yes," Loren replied calmly, while inwardly she wondered where the hell Baxter was going with this line of questioning.

"And isn't it also true, Lieutenant, that since that time, you have grown very close to Commander Rabb?"

"Yes."

"But at the time you were 'venting' to the accused, you were not so friendly?"

"That is true."

"So why the sudden volte-face?"

"Because no matter how I had acted in the past, once the Commander found that I bore the child of… his familial connection, he and his family accepted me unhesitatingly, in full knowledge of my prior character, and my prior acts."

"Very commendable on the part of the Commander, and his family, I'm sure," Baxter commented with a sneer.

"Yes, it was," Loren said quietly.

"So… you now feel a sense of obligation to Commander Rabb, and his family?"

"Obligation?" Loren queried, her head tilted slightly to one side as she considered the question, "Obligation? No. Affection? Yes."

"But no… ah… affection or sense of obligation to Commander Lindsey?"

"No."

"And would that be because after you had given him all this ammunition against JAG, which he used in his report, he failed to make good on the bargain you thought you had made with him?"

"No."

"No? Yet you testified that Christmas Two Thousand One, you deliberately approached Commander Lindsey, knowing that he worked directly with the Secretary of the Navy, with the object of cultivating his friendship in return for him helping your career?"

"Yes. I did," Loren agreed.

"But when this report, this audit was published, you find that it is Commander Rabb, and his activities that bear the main load of the accused's criticism of JAG and its dealings. The same Commander Rabb for whom you now feel such affection?"

"That was the thrust of that discredited report," Loren agreed, "But Commander Lindsey and I had come to the parting of the ways long before that report was published, and much longer before I discovered I was pregnant, and subsequently accepted by the Commander and his family."

"But is it not true that even the so-admirable Commander Rabb suspected that you might be pregnant with the accused's child?"

Loren kept up her mask of calmness, "I couldn't answer for what the Commander may or may not have thought on that, or any other subject."

"But did he not confront you with that very suspicion?"

"No."

Loren's blunt negative seemed to throw Baxter off his stride but after a moment or two almost visibly struggling with her unexpected answer he rallied and carried on, "And on a further occasion when you met with the accused, were you not sporting a black eye, the result of an altercation, a physical altercation, with another, female officer, in fact the wife of the very officer you accused of being a duffer?"

"Yes." Loren admitted reluctantly.

"So… despite all this ammunition you passed to Commander Lindsey, he failed to do anything questionable, in fact anything at all, to 'help' your career, and then to make matters worse, when he published his report the main target for his justifiable criticism was the same Commander Rabb for whom you suddenly felt so much affection?"

"Objection!" Babs said wearily, "Asked and answered!"

"Indeed!" Judge Morris agreed, "Sustained. You've had your answer to that question already Commander Baxter. Now move it on!"

"Your Honour, I'm done with this… witness."

"Redirect, Your Honour?"

"Go ahead, Counsellor," Judge Morris told Babs.

"Lieutenant, you never reported that you had been assaulted by another officer, did you?"

"No."

"Why not? An assault is an assault."

"I brought it on myself, ma'am, by my own actions. The resultant minor injury was, I felt even at the time, more in the nature of a self-inflicted wound."

"So… there were no residual hard feelings between yourself and this other officer?"

"For a short while, yes ma'am, there was. At least on my part."

"But no longer?"

"No. In fact we have become very good friends, and together with one other, we have formed a Mothers' Mutual Aid Society that Commander Rabb has referred to as a formidable alliance and an unholy trinity."

"I see. Thank you Lieutenant," Babs smiled. "Now you have just described Commander Lindsey's JAG HQ audit as discredited. Why would you say that?"

"Commander Lindsey submitted the report to the SecNav, who passed it to his legal advisor for verification. She went through the report item by item and refuted over ninety per cent of the claims made by Commander Lindsey."

"Objection!" Commander Baxter almost sprang to his feet, "Relevance?"

"Your Honour, Defence Counsel introduced this report as if it were Holy Writ. I am merely trying to put it in context."

"You did open that door, Counsel," Admiral Morris said to Baxter, and then bent down to hear what Lindsey was urgently whispering. He nodded, and with a faint grin straightened up, "Also hearsay, Your Honour! The SecNav has never published his findings as to that report's accuracy."

"Counsel?" Judge Morris asked Babs.

"I can only stipulate to that for the moment, Your Honour, until I can call Commander Manetti to testify."

Once again Lindsey tugged at Baxter's sleeve and the tall attorney bent down again to hear his whisper of, "For Chrissakes, don't let her call Manetti!" before straightening up.

"May we approach, Your Honour?" he asked.

"Step up," Admiral Morris replied.

"Your Honour, Commander Manetti is not on the prosecution's list of witnesses, and she can shed no light on the specifications of the charges against my client."

Babs gave him a withering look. "She's not on the witness list, Your Honour, because the prosecution had no idea that Counsel was intending to resurrect a report that has long since been dead and buried."

"I don't know if this is some sort of elaborate charade being put on for my benefit," Admiral Morris almost snarled, "But my patience is wearing thin. Commander Saunders, I am going to disallow Lieutenant Rabb's last answer and your last question. Commander Baxter, I am not going to permit Commander Saunders to introduce a new witness at this stage unless you refer again to the Lindsey report. But one more mention of that damned report, and all bets are off! Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" came in a clear if whispered response.

"Now… step back!"

The two attorneys stepped back to their respective tables and Judge Morris looked at the panel. "The objection of hearsay is sustained. The panel will disregard prosecution's last question and the witness' corresponding answer. Now, counsellor, anything else?

Babs looked up at Admiral Morris, "I have no further questions for this witness."

Admiral Morris nodded, "Thank you, Lieutenant, you may step down!"

Harm had taken the opportunity of Babs' redirect to scribble a hasty note on a page from his notebook, and handed it to Staff Sergeant Heaney, "Make sure that Commander Saunders gets this before she calls her next witness!" he hissed.

Heaney took the note and calmly replied, "Aye, aye, sir," and then stood back to open the doors to allow the approaching Loren Rabb to exit the court room.

Harm rose and slipped out after her, and taking her elbow in a light grip he guided her towards the bench and waited until she had sat down.

No sooner had she done so than Heaney opened the door again, "Petty Officer Personnelman Second Class, Angela Hartmann.

Angela stood and with a weak grin said to Harm, "Here goes nothing," but with head held high and shoulders back she walked through the doors and down the centre aisle towards the witness stand.

Harm hurriedly said to Loren, "Damn, I promised her I'd be in court for her testimony. You're finished here, right?"

Loren nodded.

"Okay then, I'll see you downstairs as soon as Angela's finished her testimony."

Loren nodded weakly, "I'll be fine, Harm. You go on and do what you promised!"

"I will, and I promise you we'll talk later – that is if you want to!"

"Thanks!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Babs took the opportunity of reading Harm's scrawled note while Angela was being sworn in, and by the time she had finished her eyebrows had crawled half-way up her forehead. She waited until Angela had been sworn in but then instead of opening her questions she stood and asked, "Sidebar, Your Honour?"

Judge Morris blinked, "Very well, both counsels step up. Well Commander?"

"You Honour… and counsel… Notification has just come to me of the existence of fresh evidence in this case. I need to subpoena SRBs of three officers so that they may be brought into the record."

"This is highly irregular," Baxter objected.

"My court, Commander, I'll say whether it's irregular!" Admiral Morris admonished him. "Which three officers?"

Babs shot a look at Baxter, "Vice Admiral Bernard Wyatt, Captain Matthew Ridgely, and… Commander Samuel Baxter, Your Honour!"

"To what end?" Morris asked while Baxter stood struck silent.

"Your Honour, Captain Ridgely was both Commander Sorenson's and Lieutenant Pearson's CO at the Pentagon, and to whom they both initially complained about Commander Lindsey's conduct. Both of whom then were suddenly promoted and were assigned 'plum' appointments; one to NFO school, the other to Pearl Harbour. Vice Admiral Wyatt signed off on both of those appointments, in itself slightly unusual that a Vice Admiral should interest himself in a Lieutenant and an Ensign, but what is even more interesting is that he apparently carried out an investigation into Commander Lindsey's report and exonerated him of wrong-doing in its compilation, and furthermore that it was Vice Admiral Wyatt who also signed off on Commander Baxter's last two promotions. This may all be pure coincidence, Your Honour, but…"

"Yes. But…" Admiral Morris agreed.

"This… this… Your Honour…" Baxter stuttered

"I can see why you would be perturbed, Counsel," Judge Morris turned a cold eye towards Baxter, but the implications of this go far beyond mere consideration of Commander Lindsey's complicity in these matters. Get the paperwork to me by the end of day, Commander Saunders, and you'll have your subpoenas first thing in the morning! Commander Baxter, I would, if I were you, now give some very serious consideration to recusing yourself from this case!"

"Your Honour… May I… may I request a recess so that I can confer with my client!"

"How long?" Morris demanded.

"Thirty minutes?" Baxter asked.

"Very well. Step back!"

Both attorneys returned to their tables and Admiral Morris picked up his gavel, "This court is in recess for thirty minutes!"

As the judge left the courtroom there was an excited buzz of conversation amongst the onlookers. Baxter and Lindsey sat at the defence table, their heads close together, while a smiling Babs Saunders approached a totally confused Angela Hartmann in the witness-box.

"What's happening ma'am?" she asked.

"Relax, Hartmann. This little flutter in their dovecote…" she indicated Baxter and Lindsey, "Has nothing to do with you yet. So relax, go and grab a coffee or a soda, or even a breath of fresh air. Just be sure to be back here in twenty-five minutes, okay?"

Angela smiled gratefully, "Yes, ma'am. Thank you."

She stepped down from the witness-box and walked through the crowds to the courtroom door, and stopped, her heart suddenly in her mouth, "Tom! What are you doing here?" she asked in quick anxiety.

"I got permission to secure early, so I came out here for your testimony. What's happening?"

"Beats me," Angela admitted, "But Tom, you shouldn't have come here, sweetheart. From what I've heard things could get ugly in there, and I don't want you losing your temper. So, please, I appreciate your being here for me, but please Tom, go home."

"Hell, no! What sort of husband would I be if I didn't support my wife at a time like this?" Tom said heatedly. "I promise I won't lose my temper, or hit anyone, but you have to allow me to be here for you, sweetheart!"

Harm had seen the encounter between husband and wife and as he had approached he'd heard enough of the conversation to be able to say, "Good afternoon, Chief Hartmann."

Tom looked around in surprise at being addressed by name and his brows furrowed for a moment as he tried to place the tall Commander who had spoken, and then as memory returned his face cleared. "Good afternoon, Commander!" he replied.

"It's all right Personnelman Two, I'll look after him for you, and if he looks like getting too het up, I'll sit on him until he calms down!"

Angela looked at him, "You'd do that too, wouldn't you, sir?"

"Damn' straight," Harm grinned, "Can't let the husband of my wife's friend get himself into trouble, now can I? Jen would never let me hear the end of it!"

"No, sir," Angela smiled.

"Good, so you can stop giving him a hard time, and just say thank you Tom, for coming to support me!"

"Is that an order, sir?" Angel smiled.

"I can make it so, if you want," Harm replied.

"Oh, well in that case… 'Thank you, Tom, for coming to support me'!"

Tom looked in bemusement from Angela to Harm and back again before his own slow grin dawned, "Well… in that case, you're welcome, darling," he told his wife.

"Good… now that's settled, you still just got time for a coffee… if you hurry! Can you find your way back to the machine downstairs?" he queried.

"Yes, sir! I certainly can!" Angela grinned, and turning to Tom said in a mischievous voice, "On my six, sailor!"

"Since when did you start to speak pilot-talk?" Tom asked as Angela led him away.

Angela's laughing reply drifted back to Harm, bringing a smile to his face, "Since I started working with Jen!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Although the buzz of conversation had died away with Admiral Morris reappearance on the bench, the unusual proceeding just prior to the recess had given birth to a sense of nervous anticipation amongst the onlookers as the principal actors in the drama took their places.

Judge Morris turned to Babs, "You may proceed, Counsellor!"

"Thank you, Your Honour," Babs said but before she could turn to address Angela, Baxter was on his feet, "If it please the court?"

"Yes, Counsellor, what is it?" Admiral Morris asked wearily.

"Your Honour, in light of prosecution's evidence and witness testimony submitted so far, my client wishes to change his plea to one of guilty on all counts."

For an instant there was a stunned silence in the court, and then it seemed to Harm as if Bedlam had suddenly opened its gates. Never could he recall such an uproar in court, not even when he had inadvertently loosed a burst of automatic small arms fire through this very courtroom's ceiling. Judge Morris repeatedly hammered his gavel on its pad and yelled for order, until at last his repeated shouts of "Order!" were heard above the uproar and it gradually faded away.

Admiral Morris' eyes swept the courtroom with a mixture of contempt and anger.

"Never have I heard such an outbreak on any courtroom, ever! If there is any recurrence of such behaviour I will clear the court in an instant! Now… as much to give me time to recover from this insult, as for anything else, this court stands adjourned until ten hundred hours tomorrow morning. At which time, counsellor, I will hear the allocution for your client. This court is adjourned!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Babs Saunders crossed to the witness-box, "Stand down now Hartmann, until ten hundred tomorrow. I don't think we'll be needing your testimony now, but you'll have to be here, just in case." She smiled as she saw Chief Hartmann shoulder his way through the crowd a concerned expression on his face, "Your husband?" she queried and on receiving Angela's nod of agreement, she continued, "Let him take you home and make a fuss of you if he wants, and I'll see you tomorrow morning at zero nine thirty, okay?"

Angela smiled in return, "Yes, ma'am, and thank you!"

"For what? I haven't done anything," Babs answered, "But I must go, I really need to find the answers to some burning questions!" and she turned away, determined to track down one Harmon Rabb, whose note had prompted her to ask for the subpoenas and which in turn seemed to have sparked off Lindsey's abrupt change of mind.

She tracked Harm down to the Ops Galley where he was engaged in pouring two mugs of coffee. On Bab's entry he held the jug up in silent invitation.

"Uh… no… or, yes… yes, thank you! Harm, we need to talk!"

"About?"

"That message you sent me. No sooner had I asked for a subpoena for the SRB's for those officers, then Baxter asked for a recess, and then Lindsey changed his plea, all in about thirty seconds flat!"

"Or twenty minutes, if you take into account the recess and the time taken to re-seat the court," Harm said gently.

Babs made an impatient gesture with her hand, "That's neither here nor there, Harm, and you know it! Now, there's obviously something to be found in the connections between Wyatt, Ridgely and Lindsey in those SRBs that has Lindsey running scared, and Baxter looked grey when I mentioned them. What gives?"

"I can't tell you that, Babs, because I don't know what lies behind the connections. All I know is that they exist, and they stink like last week's fish! I have drawn them to your attention, and that's all I can do."

"That won't wash, Harm. Baxter has consistently dragged your name, and your wife's into the proceedings, and has very strongly hinted that Lieutenant Rabb's testimony is perjured because she's using it to get at Lindsey in return for his attacks on you in his so-called audit! Now if I introduce evidence based on something you've told me, it's going to look as if you are trying to get some sort of payback. Add in that it is obvious that there is a history of bad blood between you and Baxter, then no matter what it says in these SRBs, it's going to look like fruit of the poisoned tree. I have to submit a written request to Judge Morris requesting a subpoena for those SRBs, what can I tell him about my source?"

"You can tell him that it came to the notice of a Legalman, who is also an authorised notary, and as such a minor officer of the court, who is duty bound to bring such connections to the notice of the court. The case is such a high profile case that the Legalman in question was motivated by curiosity, as to how such a junior officer as Lieutenant Pearson came to be noticed in the rarefied atmosphere of the Pentagon to such a degree that she was promoted, almost the first in her year, and posted to Pearl well before she had completed her projected tour at the Pentagon. She, the Legalman, in question was then moved to check SRBs of other officers involved in the case, to find that four of them seem to be inextricably linked."

Babs had been listening in growing dismay to Harm's explanation and as he finished she asked, "Please, tell me the Legalman in question isn't your wife?"

Harm shook his head, "Sorry Babs, can't do that."

"Oh… crap," Babs said miserably. "Oh, well, let's just hope that Admiral Morris doesn't ask me for my sources!"

"Obfuscate," Harm replied, "But tell him the truth, the recurrences of names are apparent on the publicly accessed portions of those SRBs, available on the intranet to anyone with the permitted level of authorisation."

Babs looked at him doubtfully, "I'll try… but if he doesn't believe me, and pushes for an answer I'll have to tell him it was your wife, and he may then turn me down flat."

"He might do… but try this for size, bearing in mind that I know Lindsey… He's switched his plea to guilty precisely because he doesn't want those connections aired in public. Now, doesn't that suggest to you that not only are the grounds for those connections extremely murky, but that they are also extremely valuable to Lindsey? Come on, they must be if he's going to put his hands up. He's facing at least ten years, plus dismissal, plus loss of all pension and veteran's rights. And what's more, I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't find Baxter on your office doorstep, looking for a plea bargain."

"You think?" Babs asked, sounding slightly more hopeful than she had since she first stepped into the galley.

"Yeah, I do… And even if Lindsey weasels out of having those connections exposed in court, I wouldn't mind betting that the IG's office would be interested…"

Babs shook her head and gave Harm a re-appraising look, "You know, most people looking at you would think you were a nice guy. But when it come to playing hardball you really are a merciless sonofabitch!"

"If Baxter complains, just remind him of his crack about washed out jet-jockeys and third rate TV programmes, and then gently remind him that payback's a bitch!" Harm said coolly.

"No… no I can't do that, and you know it, but it will serve me as a reminder not to get on your wrong side!"

"Oh… you could never do that, Babs!" Harm let her have the benefit of a full scale grin, before he drained his mug, flipped her a casual half-salute and turned to go, throwing a casual "You're much too nice a gal for me to take against!" over his shoulder as he went.

Bas watched him leave the galley as she leaned back against the work top, breathing an "Oh, my…" only once he was out of earshot.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm made his way across the bull-pen towards Loren's office, noticing approvingly as he did that Lieutenant Pearson was back at Harriet Sims's side, and the two of them appeared to be working intensely, and once again he detoured to pass Harriet's desk, murmuring a further "Bravo Zulu, Lieutenant," as he did so."

Harriet caught the comment and looked up with a smile even as she blushed pink, but Harm's detour brought him to Mac's line of sight.

"Commander Rabb, do you have a moment, please?"

Harm raised an eyebrow and swerved towards Mac's office, "Sure, what's up?"

"Close the door please, Harm," Mas asked and then once he had done so, she asked with a sigh, "Harm, where the hell were you? The Admiral's been screaming for you for the last half an hour?"

Harm winced, "Ouch! I was afraid that I might be missed! I was in court for Loren's testimony, and then I got caught up with Babs…"

"Well, I covered for you this time, I said that you were with a witness, and luckily eh didn't ask which case! But, Harm, you need to step back from this one." Mac's eyes as well as her voice showed her concern.

Harm held up his hands in an 'I surrender' gesture, "I know, I know… and thanks for the assist Mac, I really do appreciate it! But the good news is that Lindsey has just changed his plea to guilty. So if Judge Morris accepts that after allocution tomorrow, then this case is done! Stick a fork in it!"

"Oh, thank God for that!" Mac said feelingly, "This whole mess has gone on far too long!"

"Yeah," Harm agreed, "But it still ain't over. There's still Vukovic's trial on all sorts of charges to come, as well as that seaman he blackmailed into doing his dirty work. Plus…" Harm hesitated.

"Go on," Mac said in long-suffering tones, "I can take it."

"We may just have stumbled across the web of cover up, bribery, corruption and deceit at the Pentagon. And Mac… it goes all the way up to a three-star!"

Mac stared at him blankly for a few long seconds before she shook her despairingly and said, "I was wrong, I can't take it! I think you may just have put me off my dinner!"

"You? Off your food? Mac, I don't believe that for a second!"

"Go ahead laugh! But this has got the makings of the biggest scandal to hit the Navy since… since…"

"Tailhook?" Harm suggested. "Oh, I know… but if Lindsey's plea of guilty goes through then Babs is going to push the investigation up to the IG's office and let them deal with it in their inimitable, glacial fashion. And by the time they get their act together, you'll be long gone to you Police Battalion… in fact come to think of it, you and I may both be retired and Lindsey will eligible for his parole!"

"That's an appealing thought and an intriguing, even an amusing conceit," Mac agreed, "But even if the IG's office is slow, they are thorough, and it won't take them that long, although yes, it will be a long process, just not that long. In fact, I'd be willing to bet that it would take just long enough for me to finish my tour at LeJeune and get PCS'd back to JAG just in time for the whole nauseating mess to land in my lap!"

Harm grinned, "Semper Fi, do die! Suck it up Marine!"

Mac faked throwing her stapler at him, "G'wan, get outta here, Squid!" she laughed.

"I'm gone, I'm gone!" Harm yelped ion mock alarm and laughingly made his exit, this time definitely heading for Loren's office.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

A quick tap on her door jamb had Loren hastily opening her eyes, "Hey, Harm," she said quietly, plastering a weak smile on her visibly pale face.

"Hey yourself; may I?" he indicated her visitors' chairs.

"Sure, go ahead."

"I heard the second half of your testimony, you did good!" Harm said as he sat and then watched in approval as some colour returned to Loren's cheeks.

"You think?"

"Yeah, you kept your cool. You answered the questions and you didn't give Baxter any ammunition."

Loren almost visibly basked in the warmth of Harm's encomium, "Thanks, I was so worried when he brought up all that stuff about that damned audit, it could really have been bad for you…"

"Yeah, what was that stipulation after the recess, all about Sergei and a 'familial connection'?"

"Oh Harm… you'd have had to have been there for the first part of his cross. He accused me of being married to you, and that Sasha was your daughter, and the accused me of perjury when I said I wasn't. I don't know where he got his information from but it was so far out that Admiral Morris warned him about it. Anyway, to get back to Sergei, Baxter finally named him, from a copy of the Live Birth Certificate but then started asking questions as to why Sasha was called Rabb. I managed to get the judge to speak with Baxter, Commander Saunders and I in chambers, and I had to tell them about Sergei being your half-brother, and your dad's imprisonment in Russia. Fortunately the Admiral agreed with me that speaking out on that matter in public court could lead to all sorts of diplomatic problems with Russia, and could prove dangerous to any other MIAs that still survived, as well as to Sergei personally. So he kept that part of my testimony in camera, and had Baxter stipulate to the bare facts in court, just for the panel's benefit!"

Harm listened in growing dismay to Loren's potted version of the story and shook his head, "It wasn't your fault, and well done for quick thinking to keep it out of court, but I hate to think that Baxter knows that sort of thing about my family. He's a vindictive son of a bitch, and that's given him far too much leverage!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry Harm, but I couldn't not tell the truth as I know it!" Loren protested.

Harm looked at her suddenly suspiciously moist eyes, and when he spoke his voice had lost its edge, "No, of course not! And I never meant to imply that you should have perjured yourself! No, it's better the truth comes out than have that happen! No, I say again, you did extremely well on the stand, and even better in keeping our family's dirty linen from being aired in public! So thank you for that!"

"It's my dirty laundry too, don't forget!" Loren replied and then paused before adding, "So… what happens, now?"

Harm glanced up at the clock on the office all, "What happens next I drive you home, and after you've said hello to your daughter and done whatever you have to do, you come up to our place, while I cook us all dinner, and Jen teases you about Tuna!"

Despite herself Loren was forced into a chuckle, "Damn, she'll do that too, won't she!"

"Damn' straight!" Harm agreed with a smile.


	95. Some You Win, Some You Lose

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 95  
>Some You Win, Some You Lose<strong>

"Good morning, people!" Admiral Chegwidden greeted his attorneys as they retook their seats at the conference room table.

The return chorus of "Good morning, sir," wasn't quite synchronised enough to impress a Marine Corps DI, or even the director of a Broadway musical, but it seemed that it was sufficient for Rear Admiral A J Chegwidden this morning.

"Right," he grunted, "Before we get down to the day's business, I understand that Commander Lindsey suddenly changed his plea to guilty on all counts yesterday afternoon?" he switched his glare from Baxter to Saunders and back.

Babs Saunders left it to Baxter to answer that one, after all he was Lindsey's defence counsel.

"That is so, sir," Baxter said smoothly.

Much as she disliked the man, Babs had to give him credit for having a massive ego. No matter what had gone wrong for him in court yesterday – and almost everything had – his overnight powers of recovery were remarkable.

Chegwidden however didn't seem to be quite so impressed, "And was this change of plea his idea, or yours, Commander?"

"Entirely my client's idea, sir. I tried to dissuade him, I'm still not sure that this is his best chance, but as his attorney, I have to abide by my client's instructions."

Chegwidden was burning to know why Lindsey had changed his mind on his plea, but Baxter had just subtly reminded him, and everyone else at the table, of the privilege that existed between an attorney and his client.

Chegwidden paused trying to hide his dislike of the other man before he took a breath and continued, "Very well, Commander. Now… moving swiftly on… Commander Rabb?"

"Yes, sir?" Harm straightened a little in his chair, he hadn't expected to be called on this morning for anything other than perhaps being handed a new case or two, or a cursory question about his current case load.

"Your orders for your next set of Carrier Deck Landing Qualifications have arrived. They're to take place on the _Harry S Truman_, Captain Henshaw, in two weeks' time… that's the week commencing October 6th. You can collect a copy of those orders from Tiner at your earliest convenience."

"Aye, aye, sir!" Harm sat back and brooded. He still, despite his discussion with Jen wasn't sure he wanted to keep up his DLQs, not now, not with the baby so near. And what would he be missing? The word was out that the F-14 would be withdrawn from the fleet next year, and totally phased out by two thousand six, and he really couldn't see the Navy allowing him to re-train on the Super Hornet.

"Mister Roberts!"

"Yes, sir!"

"You're headed for Iraq. A Corpsman Three, La Porte went MIA during GW One. She has recently been found by our forces. In fact she was apprehended whilst trying to steal medical supplies which she states were for 'her people'. The circumstances of her going MIA and her activities since need to be investigated with a view to charging her with desertion if that should be merited. You leave tomorrow, first thing. Get your orders from Tiner. Hand over anything you've got outstanding to Lieutenant Rabb. You have a problem with that Miss Rabb?"

"Uh… no, sir!" Loren replied, although she had looked up sharply as her name was mentioned, and now she frantically tried to recall with what Bud Roberts was dealing.

"Good! Commander Turner. Sergeant Christian A Ambrose has been charged with Dereliction of Duty after going missing in a sandstorm in Iraq. Colonel MacKenzie, you'll defend!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" This time the chorus of two was perfectly in synchronisation.

"And last but not least, Mister Barlow, welcome back! Good work on that lifting gear mishap investigation! I've received your recommendations and I shall forward them to the convening officer. You might want to look case precedent on this one. I have a feeling that it will go to an article 32 at the very least, and if it does then you will prosecute!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" a very much gratified Lieutenant Barlow responded enthusiastically and then coloured as he released that the other attorneys at the table were now staring at him in thinly veiled amusement.

The Admiral continued, addressing each officer in turn, receiving updates on current cases and handing out new ones as he thought appropriate, until at last he sat back and removed his reading glasses, "Alright people, anyone got anything for me? No? Good. Dismissed!"

Amidst the usual clatter of chair legs the assembled officers rose to their feet and waited until the Admiral quit the room before they followed, proceeding in their usual untidy gaggle back to their offices, in some cases, via the galley for a much needed cup of coffee.

Harm, just for once, was not one of the latter with a guilt-laden conscience over having achieved so little during this week, he headed straight for his office, and buried himself in some last minute paperwork. 'Mind,' he reflected grimly, as he reached for what seemed to be at least the forty eleventh file from his in-tray, 'it's only last minute because I've been dragging my heels over getting it done!'

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"And in the end, because Lindsey pleaded guilty, Angela didn't have to testify at all. I've rarely seen anyone look so relieved!" Harm said.

Jen nodded, "It was so good of Tom to take time to come and support her though."

"Of course he would, she is his wife!" Harm said, slightly surprised.

"Yes, I know, sweetheart, but these things aren't always as easy for the enlisted, even for Chiefs, as they are for officers!"

"H'mm, no… I don't suppose they are…" Harm said thoughtfully, as he considered yet one more difference between the treatment handed out to officers and that doled out to sailors.

Jen's brow puckered. She recognised the signs, Harm was drifting off the subject.

"So… what happened then?" Jen asked, a trifle impatiently, but still round-eyed with curiosity as she curled up in the corner of the couch, her half-forgotten mug of tea rapidly cooling on the occasional table.

"Well, as I was saying, Babs had let us know that the allocution had gone well and Admiral Morris accepted Lindsey' guilty plea and that sentencing would be carried out at fourteen hundred. Well the word got around – as you'd expect – and we were all waiting for the court to be called to order. I don't think I've ever seen it quite so packed. I think every officer that could manage it was there. I was sat next to Lieutenant Commander Charlton from LSO, downstairs, and I was lucky to get there early enough to grab a seat. Not that he stayed where he was for very long!"

"Why? What happened?"

"Well just before Admiral Morris came in, Charlton suddenly leaped to his feet and stood back and the next thing I knew, the Admiral – Chegwidden – had sat next me... He had his arms folded and that tight-lipped his expression of his on his face… You know the one I mean?"

"Oh, Lord, yes! But did he say anything?"

"M'mm…" Harm took a sip of his tea and nodded towards Jen's mug still on the table, "Don't let yours go cold," he recommended her.

"Ooh! Never mind the damned tea!" Jen exploded. "Did the Admiral say anything to you?"

"The Admiral? Say anything?" Harm repeated innocently. Too innocently for Jen's liking.

"Careful buster!" she warned him.

Harm took note of the glint in her eye and decided that maybe he wouldn't tease her any more… well… not for the next five minutes or so. "Well… yeah, he did say something… he said, 'Another witness interview, Mister Rabb?'"

Jen's eyes crinkled in amusement, "And your reply"

Harm shrugged, "What could I say? So, just 'Yes, sir!'"

"And he let you get away with that?" Jen asked in surprise.

"He didn't have much choice at the time, the Bailiff called the court to order, and Admiral Morris entered and took his seat. But I'm expecting an uncomfortable few minutes tomorrow,"

"Okay, but never mind that for now! So… what next?" Jen asked almost breathlessly.

"Admiral Morris said he had taken into consideration that Lindsey's change of plea had not only saved the court time and the Navy money, but that he acknowledged it as a belated sign that Lindsey was finally accepting responsibility for his actions, but it would have been more convincing had Lindsey entered the pleas when first asked how he pleaded. So, he read out the charge sheet: ten counts of disobeying an order or regulation contrary to Article Ninety Two, ten counts of Conduct Unbecoming an Office and a Gentleman contrary to Article One Three Three, and five counts of fraternisation contrary to Article One Three Four."

"What about him trying to bribe or blackmail women into his bed?" Jen demanded hotly.

"Those were the counts of Conduct Unbecoming," Harm explained.

"So no mention of what he actually did?" Jen asked indignantly.

"Of course there was! Those were the specifications of the charges," Harm explained.

Jen flushed with embarrassment, "Oh… of course they were… it's just that I got so hot under the collar…"

"Never mind that, did you want to hear the good bit?"

"Oh yes! The sentence, you mean?"

"Exactly. You should have seen his – and Baxter's face – Dismissal from the Service, forfeiture of all pay, pension and veteran rights and fifteen years confinement."

"Good!" Jen said fiercely, bit then she frowned again, "But isn't that a bit long for confinement, I thought that two, or maybe five years…"

"The Admiral decided that he would serve six months confinement on each of the Article Ninety Two and Article One Three Three charges and one year each for the One Three Four Charges, plus a year, all to run consecutively. Of course Baxter was on his feet immediately submitting a motion for the right to appeal against sentence"

"Which Admiral Morris granted?"

"Of course. But it doesn't really matter, Lindsey still heads for Leavenworth until the appeal is held, and you know that can take months!"

"M'mm… ugh! This is cold!" Jen pouted at the mug of tea in her hand.

"I warned you about that," Harm grinned, "Never mind, I'll go make you a fresh one!"

"Aw… thanks, sweetheart," Jen smiled up at him.

"And don't think I don't know exactly what you just did!" Harm warned her, dipping as he did so to drop a kiss on her forehead.

"Busted?" Jen giggled.

"Damn straight!" Harm agreed.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Commander Rabb… Lieutenant Simon Foster, disobeying an order or regulation, negligently or wilfully hazarding an aircraft and reckless endangerment being conduct of a kind to bring discredit upon the service." The Admiral slid a blue file folder across the table towards Harm, "Colonel MacKenzie, you'll defend!"

Harm and Mac shot a startled glance at each other before Harm turned back towards the Admiral his mouth opening as if to speak, but he was prevented from doing so by the Admiral's upraised hand.

"Don't even think about arguing, Commander! It will do you both good to see things from the other side of the fence for a while!"

Harm and Mac, to the Admiral's concealed amusement shared another, despairing, glance and slumped back into their seats.

"Right, anyone got anything for me?" Admiral Chegwidden asked. "No? Well, that just about wraps this up for this morning… oh… One more thing, Lieutenant Rabb, report to me in my office as soon as we're done here!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Loren replied trying to maintain a neutral expression, but Harm at least noticed the blood drain from her face.

Chegwidden too noticed how pale she had gone but decided for the moment to say nothing more, he'd be putting an end to her agony in a few minutes anyway, and what he needed to say to her was best said in private.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The expected tap at his door came within three minutes of Admiral Chegwidden's return to his desk. He squared off the two buff coloured files that sat, one on top of the other, on his desk blotter and laid his reading glasses, perfectly aligned with the long edges of the files exactly two inches to their right as he looked at it. Satisfied that all was in order he raised his head, "Enter!"

Tiner opened the door and held it open for Lieutenant Rabb who marched across the office to come to a crisp halt exactly in front of the centre of Chegwidden's cherry-wood desk.

"Lieutenant Rabb, reporting as ordered sir!" Loren spoke clearly enough, but she couldn't quite still the slight tremor in her voice.

"Stand easy, Lieutenant, at ease!" Chegwidden said quietly and waited for his officer to adjust her stance.

"I have here," he tapped the two files in front of him, "Your SRB and a transcript of the evidence you gave at Lindsey's court martial. Both from direct and cross examination." He paused and scrubbed one hand backwards over his shorn scalp in an habitual gesture. "I must admit that it is refreshingly candid. You testified as to what you said and did, and yet you made no excuses. I seem to recall that the last time we spoke on this subject, you claimed the reason you submitted your statement to me was cowardice. That you were afraid that you'd destroy the statement and erase it from your computer. However, I found no sign of cowardice or dissembling in your testimony. You have been remarkably frank and open in admitting to your faults, and the errors of judgement that led you into them. To my mind that speaks of a high degree of moral courage! I spent most of last evening and a good part of the night reading this transcript and deciding what I am going to do with you!"

He sat back in his chair and regarded Loren evenly for a few seconds that felt almost like hours to the nervous blonde. "And after those hours of consideration, I have come to the conclusion that this office, that the Navy, doesn't need an officer who runs around complaining into every friendly ear."

Loren's heart sunk, and she furiously blinked back tears. She just knew that her CO was about to tell her that he was either preferring charges against her, or at best he was initiating the process to have her administratively separated from the Navy. She gave herself a mental shake, 'suck it up, sailor, you knew this could happen…' but the Admiral was still speaking.

"But the Navy and especially this office does need officers with the integrity to stand up in public and take responsibility for their actions! And this you have amply demonstrated. So after having, as I said, given this matter some serious thought… Lieutenant, are you alright?!"

Chegwidden broke off what he was saying and started to his feet as Loren seemed to sway and to his eyes looked as if she was about to pass out.

"Sit down, Lieutenant!" he urged her as he came around the desk and took her elbow in firm grasp, offering her his physical support as she groped with her other hand for the arm of the leather wing chair behind her, as she gingerly sat down.

Chegwidden stood over her until she was safely seated, and then turned away to the cabinet under the book shelf at the side of the room. Opening the cabinet he poured a glass of water and took it back to Loren, and then perched on the corner of his desk until she'd drunk it, watching and waiting anxiously for the colour to return to her face.

"Feeling better?" he asked as she seemed to lose some of her paleness.

"Yes, thank you, sir. I apologise for making a spectacle of myself," Loren said as she started to rise from the chair.

"No, no, stay where you are, Lieutenant! I can make that an order, if I need to," he added quietly as Loren seemed to be on the verge of protesting.

Loren subsided back into the chair, "No need for that, sir," she said quickly.

"Good. And it is I who should apologise to you. I should have realised how my words could have been heard and misinterpreted. But anyway as I was about to say, having decided that the Navy needs officers with integrity, I thought long and hard before reaching a decision. There are not many officers who could have so unflinchingly stripped themselves bare on the witness stand the way you did. And in its way, your actions upheld the old Navy tradition of full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes. But then that had always been one of your characteristics, unfortunately in that past that drive has sometimes been misdirected. However I have watched you very carefully these last six months since you returned from maternity leave. You have grown both as an officer and as a person. You seem to have made amends with other staff, even to the extent of being on friendly terms with Lieutenant Sims, no small thing considering the state of your relationship with her, and your state of mind, to the point where she felt compelled to assist you with an attitude adjustment, even if it did result in a noticeable mouse! You have also grown as an officer… Not only did you perform well during the Kozlovsky affair, but you acted coolly during your first time under fire, demonstrating physical as well as moral courage! I have also noticed you guiding and helping enlisted staff when they've need it, or even more recently when they've turned to you for help. As an attorney too, you have changed, you appear to be less concerned with your win slash lose record and more concerned with getting to the truth of the matter. And in that I suspect I can detect the fine hand of Commander Rabb."

"Yes, sir," Loren murmured.

"Yes, I thought so!" Chegwidden smiled in satisfaction. "Now as a result of those changes in you, and the potential I see in you for further personal changes, and indeed as an officer and an attorney, I am neither going to raise any charges against you for anything you admitted on the witness box, neither am I going to recommend an Adsep for you!"

"Oh! Thank you, sir!" Loren gasped.

"Don't thank me! Thank yourself for the changes you have brought about. Or if you must thank someone, I suspect that the only other people who might have helped you out are Commander and Mrs Rabb!"

"Uh… yes, sir…"

"So the only action I'm going to take is to counsel you, and that is what I am doing now. Now, by my reckoning it's been six months since your daughter was born?"

"Yes, sir, six months by the calendar on the twenty-ninth."

"So… are you ready for your PRT?"

"Yes, sir… I've been concentrating on getting my fitness back to the required standard."

"Good. I'll have Tiner get you booked in at the Navy Yard gym for the assessment, and assuming that you pass the PRT I shall reconsider, in the light of the changes you have made, my earlier decision not to recommend for promotion on your next fitrep." The old Seal's eyes creased in a grin, "You never know, Loren, you may still get to be the first female JAG!"

Loren's eyes flew open and her mouth dropped open, "Sir?" she squeaked.

Chegwidden chuckled, "Don't look so surprised, Loren, this is the Navy and stranger things have happened at sea!" and still chuckling he shook his head, "Go on, we're done here, dismissed!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" Loren floundered as she struggled to her feet. She collected her thoughts and managed to achieve a creditable brace before she performed a reasonable attempt at an about face and walked, albeit still slightly unsteadily to the office door before she paused hand on the door handle and looked back over her shoulder, "Sir?"

"What? Are you still here, Lieutenant?" Chegwidden growled.

"Only to say thank you, sir!" Loren said her chin lifting slightly as if in defiance.

Chegwidden fought down another chuckle, "I thought I dismissed you, Lieutenant!"

Loren straightened her shoulders, "Aye, aye, sir!" she said firmly and opened the door and left the Admiral alone.

Not that he was given any leisure time; no sooner had the door closed behind Loren than the intercom buzzed.

"Yes, Tiner?"

"_Commander Saunders would like to know if you have a few moments to spare for her, sir_."

A J rubbed his head with hands, and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes for a few seconds, "Send her in, Tiner!"

"Thank you for seeing me, sir," Babs Saunders said as she halted in front of his desk.

A J looked at the folders tucked under her arm and held in place with her other hand.

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" he guessed.

"Probably not, sir," Babs agreed.

"And it's going to take a while, isn't it?" he asked eying the folders with disfavour.

"It may, sir,"

"Well, Commander, you'd better have a seat and tell me what's on your mind."

"Sir, when I asked for the court's authority to subpoena hard copies of four SRBs, Commander Lindsey flipped, like someone had thrown a switch, and I got curious. It seemed to me that there was something in these records," she patted the filed now on her lap, "that he was desperately keen to keep from being disclosed, something so… big, perhaps even so terrible that even the prospect of a lengthy period of confinement was preferable to having the secret disclosed. So I got curious, and I went ahead and subpoenaed the SRBs of a Captain Ridgley, who commands the Navy ComCen at the Pentagon, and was the former CO of Commander Sorenson and Lieutenant Pearson, and Admiral Wyatt the Director of BUPERS, as well as Sorenson's and Pearson's SRBs. Ridgley served under Wyatt as a Lieutenant and Lieutenant Commander both ashore and afloat, and Admiral Wyatt signed off on both PCS's for Sorenson and Pearson, and what's more sir, he not only signed off on those, and Pearson's premature promotion to JG, but he also signed off on Vukovic's posting to Pearl – and Vukovic we now know is Lindsey's nephew. But Wyatt also signed off on Commander Baxter's last two promotions… that may be pure coincidence, it's not unusual for Admirals o recommend their staff judge advocates…"

"But Baxter has never been an SJA, has he?" Admiral Chegwidden asked.

"No, sir… or if he has, it's never been recorded on his SRB." Babs commented.

"H'mph!"

"And that's not all, sir," Babs said determinedly.

"Go on…" A J growled.

"It was Admiral Wyatt who asked for and was allocated the task of reviewing Lindsey's JAG audit, and his verdict was that Lindsey had allowed himself to be misled by an excess of zeal and not an excess of malice, and other than that a letter of counselling should be placed on his record, no further action should be taken."

"Oh… this just gets better and better!" A J Chegwidden growled. "You realise Commander, that you have just put me right off my lunch!"

"Sorry, sir," Babs said helplessly.

"Oh, it's probably better this way. If you'd have left this until this afternoon, you'd have definitely have given me a prime case of indigestion! Alright, Commander, you'd best leave me those jackets…"

"Yes, sir. I've flagged up the relevant pages."

"Thank you, Commander, dismissed!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Babs jumped to her feet.

A J waited until the door had closed behind her, and reluctantly pulled the first of the files towards him, but before he started to read his toggled the call button on his desk top intercom, "Tiner!"

"_Yes, sir_!" his Yeoman's voice came tinnily through the tiny speaker.

"I am not to be disturbed for the next hour, not for anything and not by anyone, understood?"

"_Aye, aye, sir_!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Loren closed the Admiral's office door behind her and with a bright smile at Tiner, which left him in open-mouthed surprise, she made her way directly across the bull pen. She may have thought she presented an impenetrable front, but something about her progress caught the eye of Harriet Sims, stood by the water cooler talking to Jo Pearson, "One moment, please, Jo… and if you can carry on with entering the catalogue stock numbers, I'll be back on a few minutes."

She cut across the bull pen to Loren's office and tapped on the door frame. Loren looked up from her desk with a bright, artificial smile, "Yes, Harriet?"

"Loren, are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

"Oh… yes… I… I'm fine… in fact I'm great, I've never been better in my life," Loren answered shakily.

"Are you sure? You don't sound, or look, as if you'd never been better…" Harriet said uncertainly.

"Oh… yes… It's… I'm… the Admiral… he… he just… Oh, Harriet, he just saved my career!" Loren wailed.

Harriet quickly shut the door, and just as quickly closed the window blinds. The occupants of the bull pen might still be able to hear what went on in the tiny office, but they certainly didn't need to see the former Iron Maiden have a meltdown.

The office secure from prying eyes, Harriet fumbled in her pocket for the mini-packet of wet wipes she had gotten into the habit of carrying shortly after she had given birth to AJ, and then had realised they were useful for a multitude of tasks.

Meanwhile Loren had covered her face with her hands and was relieving her feelings through the medium of a hearty bout of tears.

Harriet hitched her hip onto the corner of the desk and waited the few minutes it took Loren to recover and then as Loren's shoulders stopped heaving she asked, "Got any Kleenex?"

"Of course," Loren sniffled, taking her hands from her face and opening the bottom drawer of her desk pedestal.

"Good!" Harriet said in satisfaction, "Now wipe your eyes and blow your nose!" using exactly the same tone of voice she used with her son.

"Yes, mom," Loren with a watery grin.

Harriet waited until Loren had done as she was told and then handed her the wet wipes, "Here gently dab your eyes with these. That should take some of the redness and puffiness away… well, enough so that you can make it to the rest room to fix your make-up, without everyone gawking at you."

"Thanks, Harriet," Loren smiled, "Am I real mess?"

"No, not really. Thank God that we don't wear a lot of make-up on duty!"

"Amen to that!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Admiral Chegwidden closed the last of the four files and sat in silence for long minutes while he decided on his course of action. Eventually he shook his head, and a grim expression settled on his face as he turned to his computer on his desk's return and opened the Navy Intranet, then he quickly clicked the mouse a few times until he reached the site he wanted. With a grunt of satisfaction he reached or the phone. Dialling for an outside line he waited until he heard the buzz of an open line before he swiftly punched in a number that he read from the screen.

"_Admiral Thompson's office_," a pleasant female voice answered the 'phone.

"This is Admiral Chegwidden, the Navy JAG, I would like to speak with Admiral Thompson on a matter of some urgency."

"_Hold the line, please, sir, just one second."_

"_A J,"_ Vice Admiral 'Ben' Thompson's voice boomed down the wires, "_Don't tell me you're finally calling to arrange that game of golf_!"

"I'm afraid not, Admiral," A J replied heavily, "This is business related,"

"_Yeah, I can tell by your voice this isn't a social call. What rat's nest have you cooked up this time A J_?"

"Not cooked up Admiral. One of my staff uncovered it during a court-martial. It's bad, Admiral, it goes nearly to the top and it is going to cause a stink of Biblical proportions!"

"_Ouch… well then you'd best tell me what it is_."

"I could do that, but it would be easier to show you. Can you fit me in any time soon? Like now?"

"_I'm pretty tied down for the rest of the day… unless you could manage a working lunch? I can get my Yeoman to organise coffee and sandwiches and we can talk while we eat_?"

"That's good enough for me," A J replied, "Although by the time I've finished you may not have much of an appetite!"

"_It's a chance I'm willing to take if it's that big_!"

"It's that big." A J confirmed.

"_Well get your butt over here, and we'll see if my constitution is up to taking on your bad news_!"

"Aye, aye, sir! Leaving now!"

A J stood, transferred the files into his briefcase and pausing only to grab his cover from the coat tree by the door he quit his office, stopping at Tiner's desk only long enough to say, "I've got an appointment with the IG, I don't know how long I'll be. Until after lunch at the least. But you'd best clear my calendar for the rest of the day!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Tiner said and then watched in bemusement as his chief left the office. "I didn't see anything about him having an appointment with the IG…" he mused.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"…and then he growled at me again, and I ran away!" Loren almost giggled, her cheeks flushed from the glass of wine – in celebration at her reprieve, she claimed – that she'd had with dinner.

"That's fantastic! Very good news!" Jen enthused, "I…" she glanced quickly at Harm and corrected herself, "We've been so worried that your giving evidence could come back and bite you on your ass!"

"H'mm so… the possibility of you being the first female JAG is still on the cards, hey?" Harm smiled, "Just think of it Rear Admiral Loren Rabb…" his smile broadened into a teasing groin.

"Well… I… uh… I mean I'd have…"

"Or maybe even Rear Admiral Loren Medwick?" Jen teased.

"Jen! Yes, David and I have made some progress, but it's far too soon for me to be thinking along those sorts of lines!"

"Yeah, riiight!" Jen scoffed.

"Jennifer Rabb!" Loren began, and then took a deep, calming breath, "Alright, I know that you're deliriously happy, and I am happy for you that you are, and I know you just want everyone to be as happy and as settled as you. But it just doesn't work like that. I… I still have some issues to work through, and yes, David is being very sweet and strong and supportive, but we're a long way from standing in front of a justice or minister!"

"It's just that I don't want you to lose any more time being alone, and on your own," Jen said.

"I know, sweetie, I know," Loren admitted, "But leave this for me and David to work out, okay?"

Jen sighed, "Okay, if you insist, but I may not be able to stop myself from giving you a little nudge in the right direction now and then!"

"Harm!" Loren protested, "Was she always this bad?"

Harm nodded sorrowfully, "Yeah, that's why I had to marry her. It was either that or court-martial her for habitual insubordination!"

"And I think he got the best of the bargain!" Jen said in a stage whisper!

"That's as maybe, but there's still one thing you haven't told us. What was with the closed doors conference you had with Harriet?" Harm asked, with a sidelong look at Jen, just to let her know that she hadn't gotten away with that last crack.

"Oh… that… That was nothing, really," Loren denied, but was betrayed by the blood that rushed to her cheeks.

Harm and Jen exchanged a glance and then both turned and stared pointedly at Loren.

"You… uh… You don't actually expect us to believe that, do you?" Harm asked

"Of course she doesn't," Jen answered for her, "Loren's far too smart to think we're dumb enough to fall for that!"

Loren gave the pair an exasperated scowl. "I don't know why I put up with you two!" she declared.

"Oh, that's an easy one to answer," Jen told her. "It's because you love us!"

"And we love you right back," Harm smiled, "So come on give!"

"If you must," Loren groaned and buried her face ion her hands. "I made it back to my office in one piece, well just about, and I more or less collapsed into my chair. I didn't think my legs would support me anymore. Well, Harriet saw me crossing the bull pen and thought I didn't look too good, so she came across to see what the matter was, and I… well… I was so strung out that I totally lost it! Harriet shut the door and blinds so that no-one could see in, and sat there and let me have a good cry and then helped me clean up afterwards…" Loren chuckled at the memory. "When she spoke to me, it was just like she was scolding little A J… it was so funny in a way… Anyway, once I was more or less cleaned up, she escorted me to the women's room and posted the door while I did some running repairs. And that was our classified conference!" she finished defiantly.

"A far cry from when she slugged you, isn't it?" Jen grinned.

"Well, yeah, but I tell you something, she didn't hit me half as hard as you hit Webb!"

All three chuckled at that, but Jen sobered up rapidly, "Considering what happened to him, I'm sorry now that I did hit him!"

"Don't be!" Loren said fiercely. "His incompetence came within a second or two of getting us all killed!"

"And besides, I still have my doubts about his condition," Harm said thoughtfully. "His mother and his doctors keep making excuses every time I propose that I go see how he's doing… I wouldn't put it past him to fake an injury for some murky spook reason or other. After all, he has faked his own death before now."

Loren and Jen's faces clouded, but before either could say anything their attention was grabbed by the sound of an infant wail emanating from the baby monitor clipped to the waistband of Loren's skirt.

"Dirty diaper?" Harm queried.

Loren stilled as she listened to the quality of the sound for a moment or two, "No… that's 'Mommy, where are you'!"


	96. Visual Evidence Rules

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 96  
>Visual Evidence Rules<strong>

Harm had turned to this morning with renewed determination to clear at least half of the precarious tower of files from his towering in-tray before lunch, and to give him credit, he had achieved half of his target before he picked up the Foster File.

As he read through its scanty contents he frowned. Other than the statement and specifics of the charges – alarming though they might be – there was nothing else there. No witness statements, no statement from the accused. Nothing. Just the charges signed by Captain Preece, the base Commander at Oceana.

With a grimace, Harm reached for his phone. This, he had the feeling, was going to be a long morning, or rather what was left of it, he corrected himself after a glance at his watch. Calling up the Oceana site on the Navy's Intranet he waited for the phone at the other end to be answered.

"_Base Headquarters_, _Oceana Naval Air Station, Senior Chief Yeoman Herero, sir_!"

"Senior Chief, good morning, this is Commander Rabb at JAG HQ, Falls Church."

"Yes, sir. How may I help you?"

"Senior Chief, are you familiar with the upcoming Foster Article Thirty Two?"

"_Recklessly hazarding an aircraft, sir_?"

"Yeah, that's it – among others. I've just received the file from Oceana, and apart from the charge sheet the folder is empty. No witness statements, no deposition from the accused – nothing."

"_I see, sir. Hardly satisfactory… but, with respect, sir, what are you asking_?"

"Well… two or three things, Senior Chief. First, an appointment with the Base Commander so I can get a better handle on this, and secondly a list of names of witnesses if any, and then a day, time and an interview room where I can take their statements."

"_And you would want the interviews on the same date that you meet with the Base Commander. To save you making the two trips, sir_?"

"That would be ideal, Senior Chief, yes."

"_Let me have your number, sir, and I'll get back to you before secure today_."

"Counting on it, Senior Chief!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Harm put the phone down, and considered the just finished conversation and then a decision made, he hauled himself to his feet, picked up hi empty coffee mug and sauntered out across the bull pen towards the galley. Five minutes later, with two mugs of freshly brewed coffee in hand he stopped in Mac's office doorway.

"If I come bearing gifts, you got a minute?"

Mac looked up, a half-smile on her lips, "If it's decent coffee, then yeah, come on in and take the weight off your feet."

"Oh, it's better than decent, I made it myself… and no," he added as he reads the beginnings of a jibe in her expression, "I made it strong, just for you!"

"Then, thanks, Navy," Mac smiled as Harm sat. She took an appreciative sip of her coffee and nodded her approval, "You're getting better at this!"

"Aw, gee, thanks… I think!" Harm grinned back at her, "But discussing the merits or otherwise of coffee isn't why I came visiting."

"No, I didn't think it was. So what's on your mind, flyboy?"

"Well, partly curiosity; have you managed to make your peace with Harriet yet?"

Mac gave a wry grin, "No… she's still mad at me, even if not openly on the warpath!"

"No… I can see that she hasn't buried the hatchet, well, at least not in your head," Harm joked.

"Cute, flyboy!" Mac groused.

"I wasn't being cute, I was being funny!" Harm objected with a broad grin.

"The hell you were!" Mac chuckled, "But if all you came for was to push my buttons about Harriet's tizz, you tried and failed, so you can go now!"

"Well, pushing your buttons was a prime objective, but it wasn't the only reason I called in," Harm admitted, his grin vanishing as he spoke.

"So… what was your other reason, then?" Mac asked, taking another sip of coffee.

"The Foster case." Harm said briefly.

Mac's forehead knitted in a frown, "Yeah, I don't get it. Why would the Admiral suddenly flip the table on us? He knows you defend aviators while I do my over-zealous best to throw them to the lions." She said with just a trace of bitterness, letting Harm know that she hadn't forgotten his exposition of her prejudices.

"Probably just for that reason." He looked at Mac's blank expression and went on, "Because we've become too comfortable with those roles? Hell, I don't pretend to ever understand him, or the things that he does, but it is one reason that springs to mind."

Mac nodded thoughtfully, "It's as good a rationale as any," she mused.

"Aw, gee, thanks… again, I think," Harm grinned, "But have you had a chance to look at the file?"

Mac gave him a disgusted look, "Yeah, I have. There is absolutely nothing there that I can go on! Have you got anything you need to turn over to me under Brady rules?"

Harm shook his head, "Nuh-huh... that's why I stopped by. I've just spoken to the Base Commander's Yeoman at Oceana, he's going to call me back with a day and date for a meet with the Commander, and also a room in which to interview witnesses, and take their statements."

"And this affects me, how?" Mac asked lightly.

"Well… considering that Foster is still at Oceana, I'm pretty sure that you'll need to go there to interview him at least once, so if we can go together, that's one less trip against the budget, and that should make the Admiral a little happier…"

Mac couldn't help the grin, "Since he had you and Loren working on that budget rationale, you've really become cash-conscious, huh?"

"No… not really, just a little more conscious of not upsetting the Admiral. Believe me, I've had more than my fill of scut-work for the year!" Harm shot back emphatically.

"Amen to that!" Mac said with just as much feeling.

"So… I'm hoping to get a day and date by secure today, so when I do I'll let you know?"

"Yeah, thanks, Harm," Mac smiled but then added, "But I now have more reason to crack on with this… so…"

"No, I don't mind – as long as you enjoyed your coffee!"

"Yeah, it wasn't too bad – for squid-wash!" Mac laughed as Harm stood and matched her smile with one of his grins.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Yeoman First Class Jason Tiner laid the blue file folder on the Admiral's desk and straightened up. "The orders you wanted cut, sir!"

Chegwidden looked across from one of the wing chairs by the side table and put down the hefty legal tome he'd been consulting. "Thank you, Tiner. Please pass the word for Commander Baxter."

"Aye, aye, sir!" Tiner said emphatically, fighting to keep down the grin of pleasure that wanted to spread itself across his face.

"Don't look quite so damned happy, Tiner!" Chegwidden scowled, but his Yeoman's long association with him had given the younger man a fine appreciation of the Admiral's moods and Tiner on this occasion could easily tell that the Admiral's heart wasn't really in his growled rebuke.

"No, sir!" he grinned.

"Go on, get out of here before I write you up for insubordination!" Chegwidden snapped.

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Chegwidden watched the faultlessly performed about face and his Yeoman's smart exit from the room before he let his own grin plaster itself on his face, "Can't say as I blame him," he said aloud as he stood and crossed to the big desk, "Baxter does seem to have a knack for getting up people's noses!"

He took his seat in the big chair and opened the folder. Pushing his reading glasses, which had a habit of slipping down his nose, back into position he read through the orders, grunting in satisfaction at their contents, and had to make a conscious effort to adopt an expressionless face when the anticipated knock came at his door.

"Enter!"

Commander Baxter, outwardly unperturbed but with a gut-knotting sense of impending catastrophe crossed the expanse of carpet that lay between door and desk, halting at attention in front of the latter.

"Commander Baxter, reporting as ordered sir!"

Chegwidden pointedly did not order the junior officer to stand easy. Instead he looked at him severely. "Baxter I advised you very recently to consider resigning your commission. That recommendation was based on the deep sense of dissatisfaction I felt with your actions, not only in the court room, but also with your actions and attitude since your arrival here on TAD. I'm not even sure how you ended up here, my initial choice was for another officer entirely, but once you'd arrived, I decided to make the best of things. I am now not sure whether in doing so I was right or I was wrong. However in light of even more recent events I must tell you that if you apply to resign your commission, that application will not be accepted until certain facets of your career have been microscopically examined. To that end, I must inform you that you, and your association with Commander Lindsey and others is now the subject of an official IG Investigation."

"It escaped my notice when I first looked through your SRB that you had a previous connection with Commander Lindsey. It seems that you were both occupying billets at NLSO Norfolk before he was PCS here, and you went on to China Lake. Norfolk is a small office, so I take it I am, not wrong in assuming there was contact between you?"

"No, sir!"

"I see, and this previous contact wasn't something that you felt you needed to disclose when you received your orders, or was it, somehow, that because of your prior contact with Commander Lindsey you managed to subvert the system and have your name put on those orders in place of the name I had selected? No! Don't answer that question, not yet, anyway. Not until someone decides whether or not you need article thirty-one rights read out to you before that question is asked again!"

Ignoring the sharp intake of breath, he tapped the folder in front of him, "This folder contains orders terminating your TAD here with immediate effect, and instructing you to return to China Lake, also immediately. A copy of these orders will be faxed to Captain Wynn at China Lake, so he knows to expect you back. He will also be in receipt of a letter explaining exactly why you are returning prematurely, and stressing my displeasure at your performance, both professional and personal since your arrival at these headquarters. Now, I suggest you spend the next couple of hours clearing your desk. Anything and everything to do with the Vukovic court-martial you may deliver to my Yeoman, your personal effects you will take with you when you secure today, and that will be just as soon as you can. Here, take your orders. Goodbye Commander!"

"Sir, may I just…"

"No Commander, you may not! You will comply with these orders and the verbal instructions which I have just given to you. Now, go!"

Baxter looked grey but managed a clipped "Aye, aye, sir!" before performing an about face that Chegwidden observed with some satisfaction, was neither as smooth nor as crisp as the same movement performed by Tiner a few minutes ago.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm paid for his egg salad and with Loren in tow wound his way through the maze of tables to where Harriet and Jo Pearson were already eating. With his ready grin he asked, "Okay if we join you, ladies?"

Harriet looked up with a smile, "Of course. Jo, you know the Commander and Loren, don't you?"

"Yes…" Jo Pearson still sounded a little subdued and the look she sent at Harm suggested that she held him responsible for the turn her life had taken in the last few weeks.

Harm returned her a worried look, he didn't really want to address the issue at all, but this was the kind of abscess that needed lancing before it started to fester.

"Okay…" he said lazily, "Lieutenant, or do you mind if I call you Jo?"

Jo blushed and looked down at her portion of chicken and mashed potato, "No, sir," she mumbled reluctantly.

"Good… look, I'm picking a pretty unfriendly vibe from you right now, and I'm guessing you believe that I'm responsible for this whole sorry and sordid mess that you find yourself in? It's okay, you can speak freely," he added gently.

Jo Pearson looked up at that, her blue eyes swimming with moisture, "Yes, sir! You're right, or nearly so! You are responsible for me being here, and for that I had tried to keep private being dragged out in public, and run up the flagpole for every dirty minded son of a bitch to laugh at! Yes! I do hold you responsible!"

"Jo!" Harriet protested and then turned to Harm, "Sir, I'm sorry, but she's…"

"I don't need you to apologise for me Harriet!" Jo said fiercely, and then glared back across the table at Harm, "Do I… sir?"

"No, you don't," Harm said quietly. "Jo, I know this has been incredibly hard on you, but if it is any consolation, your evidence was needed to tip the scales against Lindsey. Your courage has not only helped to end his practice of taking advantage of young, inexperienced women, but also ensured that the sentence he received will act as a deterrent to any other like-minded animals, office, warrant or enlisted, that may have survived this long in the Navy. And I'm sure that you will face the witness-box in Vukovic's trial with as much courage as you have already shown." Harm paused for a moment to give the young woman the opportunity to answer him but when she stayed silent he continued, "I have heard about the infamous video that was recorded without your knowledge or consent, but what intrigues me is how did Baxter know of its existence, and more importantly, how did he get his hands on a copy?"

Jo looked up at him again, her expression still accusatory but with a glimmer of interest in her eyes, "Yes, and how did that snake Vukovic know about it?" she asked.

"Vukovic knew about it?" Loren interjected in some surprise.

Jo nodded, her features becoming grim as she remembered, "That was one of the threats he made when he tried to dissuade me from testifying that he would make sure my parents got a copy of that video!"

Harm thought for a moment, "Did Vukovic go to college at Lincoln Nebraska?" he wondered out loud.

None of the three blondes at the table had an answer to that question, so Harm mentally filed the question for research at a later date. But he also looked around the commissary for Babs Saunders, maybe she would know that, but his visual search revealed a total lack of the blonde counsellor.

In the meantime, Loren was speaking earnestly to Jo, "Look… I know this is tough, but you need to believe that Commander Rabb is the last person in the world to cause unnecessary pain. Over the last six months he and his family have managed to turn me around. Just ask Harriet, I used to have a lot of nicknames, of which 'The Ice Queen' was probably the most complimentary. I was also known as 'Lieutenant Witch', 'The Pit Bull', the 'Ice Maiden, 'The Wicked Witch of Washington… oh, yes… and 'That Bitch Singer!' Harriet could probably list a few more for you if she wanted!" Loren grinned wickedly at Harriet. Before she continued. "Not only that, with the help and encouragement I received from the Commander, what up until a few days ago looked like a career ender for me, has turned out to be positive, so I won't need to be clipping coupons for the foreseeable future."

Harriet's "Gonna get you for that!" was nearly drowned out by Jo's reply.

"Yeah, but you've got a husband to help you, who you can talk with about all sorts of things… I don't… and I could never talk with my parents, not about something like this trial, and especially not that damned video!"

Loren blinked in surprise, "Husband?" she queried and held up her ring-free left hand. "Do you see a wedding band here?"

"Oh… I thought… someone said… you had a baby…" Jo said hesitantly for fear that she had gotten something else wrong, or perhaps had trodden on a sensitive toe.

"Oh, that I do!" Loren enthused and grabbed her purse from the back of her chair, "Would you like to see a picture of her?"

"Oh, yes, please!" Jo replied, seemingly forgetting the stress she was under if only for a moment."

"Here, this is Sasha – Alexandra Maria…" Loren handed a slim envelope to Jo, who, her lunch forgotten, took it eagerly.

Jo slid the half-dozen photographs into her hand and started leafing through them, "Oh, my…" she breathed, "she's beautiful!"

"Well… I like to think so," Loren smiled in agreement, "But then, I might just be guilty of bias!"

"No, you're not! She is totally beautiful! I mean, look and she's so adorable…" Jo suddenly frowned and let her voice fade into silence as she scrutinised the photograph in her hand with a puzzled frown on her face and then she looked up and across the table at Harm, then back at the photograph in her hand and then as she looked back at Harm she started to giggle.

Harm recognised the symptoms and turned to Loren, "You had to give her that one?" he asked in a wounded voice.

"Oh, darn it, I forgot that one was in there," Loren said innocently. A shade too innocently for Harm's liking.

"Yeah, right," he said and with a resigned shake of his head he returned his attention to his salad, hoping that too much of a fuss wouldn't be made by the three women at the table, all of whom were now giggling and making what he considered to be overly loud and overly emphatic cooing noises, as they turned their eyes from photograph to Harm and back again.

Harriet's grin threatened to split her face in two as she said, "I really don't know why you've taken so much against that picture Commander, you're so sweet with her, it's really almost too cute!"

Harm contented himself with a sour grunt and an equally sour glare at Harriett, which for some reason seemed incredibly funny to the three blondes sharing his table, all of whom convulsed with a fit of the giggles. Harm's ears burned red, but he wasn't about to be routed by girlish laughter and he made a determined effort to ignore the disruption at the table and concentrate on his lunch.

Beneath her giggles Loren wore a smug smile. She had been worried by the rough handling Jo Pearson had received at the hands of Baxter and had been cudgelling her brains for a way to get the young officer to realise that as distressing as recent events may have been, her life hadn't necessarily come crashing to a halt, and although she hadn't discussed her somewhat nebulous plan in advance she felt that she had been ably seconded by Harriet Sims, who it seemed had picked up Loren's idea and run with it. 'Still,' she reflected, 'I'm probably going to have to make nice with Harm before the end of the day.'

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Lunch ended, Harm and Loren made their way back up to the bull pen and their respective offices, and as they walked Loren cast a sly sideways glance at Harm from under her lashes as she tried to gauge his mood. Satisfied that he wasn't scowling and didn't appear to be brooding, she said, "You know all that teasing downstairs was in a good cause?"

"Oh… was somebody teasing you?" he asked lightly.

Loren looked up at him openly, "So you're not mad then?"

"Nowhere near as I pretended to be, but I do have a macho reputation to consider, so I need to make grumpy every now and then. Especially when it comes to someone referring to me as 'cute', let alone 'too cute'!" he grinned.

"Yeah, I though Harriet over-egged the pudding on that one!" Loren chuckled.

"You and that devious Admin Officer set this up between you?" Harm asked in surprise, but then he reconsidered, "No you can't have done, it was my idea to sit with them!"

"True," Loren smirked.

Harm gave a short laugh, "Okay, I get it, it's a female mafia thing, and I don't need to know!"

"Got in in one!" Loren agreed, "That is if you really are okay with it?"

"Yeah, I'm okay, I guess. I went there to try and persuade Pearson that things weren't as bad as they might seem. She sure put me in my place, but you and Harriet, well it looks like you two outdid me in rushing and passing!"

"Hey, what can I say?" Loren paused at her office door, "When we're good, we're good!"

Harm chuckled and carried on to his own office and sat at his desk, sourly eyeing the increase in height of the tottering stack of files in his in-tray. "I swear to God those damned things are breeding!" and with a mental shrug of his shoulders reached for the top file of the stack.

An hour and three files later Harm's phone rang giving him a much wanted pretext to stop work for a few minutes. With a wry smile he stretched out his hand and picked up, "Rabb."

"_Good afternoon, sir, Senior Chief Herero at Oceana_."

"Go ahead, Senior Chief," Harm sat back in his chair and waited.

"_I've cleared it with the base commander, sir, for you to speak with him tomorrow at fourteen hundred hours. He says he has a file around two inches thick, consisting solely of complaints about the Lieutenant's flying._"

"_Well some of that included in the case file would have been a help Senior Chief_!" Harm said, annoyance sharpening his tone.

"_Above my pay grade, sir_," Herero said, politely reminding Harm that the officer shouldn't be criticising, even by implication, a superior officer.

"You're right, Senior Chief, I shouldn't have vented at you! Please tell the Base Commander…." He left a pause for Herero to supply the name.

"_Captain Preece, sir_."

"Thank you. Tell Captain Preece, I'll report to him at fourteen hundred tomorrow. And Senior Chief… thanks for getting back to me so quickly!"

"_My pleasure, sir_!"

"Of course it is!" Harm laughed. "See you tomorrow Senior Chief!"

"_Tomorrow, sir_!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen sat on the edge of the bed, a slightly puzzled expression on her face, "So if you're just going down to see the Base Commander and collect some written complaints, why are you taking your sea bag?"

Harm paused in the act squeezing the air out of a zip lock bag that contained a t-shirt, a pair of boxers and a pair of socks, "Because, although I hope to be back tomorrow night – and it will be pretty late, I haven't ignored the possibility that we'll have to overnight down there!"

"We?" Jen queried.

"Yes. I told you Mac has been detailed to defend this case, so she needs to go down there and speak with the defendant, and if we travel together, we cut down on costs for the case, and that might even make the Admiral inclined to finally get over his snit with us!"

Jen shook her head, "Although it looks like a good billet on paper, I am so glad we got married… it got me out of having to replace Tiner when he goes off to OCS!"

"And that's the only reason you're glad we got married?" Harm teased her gently.

"Oh… I'm sure there are one or two other reasons that I could come up with if I really tried," Jen shot back at him.

"So… do you want to try?" Harm grinned as he closed up his sea bag.

"Nope… But… While I've still got you here, I could think about it while I'm having a bath, and then I could probably work out one or two more reasons," Jen said with a decidedly naughty grin.

Harm held his hands out to her and gently tugged her to her feet, "Okay, but promise me, if I have to be away for a couple of days, no baths while I'm gone. I don't want you getting stuck in the tub if I'm not here to help you out of it!"

Jen nodded her expression all at once serious, "No, I won't, that's why I made that comment about while I still had you here. I have no wish to spend twenty-four hours or so stick in that damn tub! My bladder wouldn't let me for a start!"

"No… and just think, you'd be all old and wrinkled by the time I got home. And who knows, after all that time, the wrinkles might not fill out again!"

"And you'd love that wouldn't you!" Jen accused him hotly.

"Not at all!" Harm protested, and gathered her into his arms, stopping her upcoming protest with his lips.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

With memories of under-performing motor pool cars fresh in his mind, Harm managed to persuade the Admiral that it would be far more efficient, and as Mac would be travelling with him, even more cost effective, to use his Lexus for the drive down to Oceana, although he rather wished he had a contact that would let him take the Andrews helo shuttle, but without an inside there was no hope, that helo was usually booked days in advance. So although he had the comfort and convenience of the Lexus, he was still not looking forward to the three and a half hour drive to Oceana.

He and Mac left HAG HQ immediately after staff call, allowing themselves just over four hours to make the journey, meaning that they would have time to pull off the interstate and grab a coffee, "But not, definitely not Ed's diner!" he assured Mac.

"God, no!" Mac shuddered theatrically.

Ed's diner was just off the I-95, a little to the North of the Richmond beltway intersection and was a byword in the Washington DC naval community for bad food, bad coffee and worse service.

But Mac needn't have worried, they had turned off the Richmond Beltway on to the I-64 before Harm pulled off at the highway at Quinton, and after three quarters of a mile pulled into a an old-fashioned looking diner on the Kent Highway.

Mac looked at him in some surprise, "Okay Flyboy, unless you've been researching on the internet, how did you know this place was here?"

"Bud's fault!" Harm laughed. "We'd been at Norfolk on an investigation and started back. Well we hadn't gone more than a few miles and Bud started hinting that we needed to make a comfort stop. Just by coincidence I pulled off here and we blundered into this place. Got some of the best coffee I've ever drunk in a diner, and you might even be able to find a sandwich that you can eat!"

"Isn't that typical of you!" Mac laughed, "Blaming poor Bud!"

"Not entirely his fault," Harm offered in mitigation, "Harriet was pregnant at the time, and Bud was having sympathetic symptoms, including bladder problems!

"Oh, yes, I remember! Poor Bud, with his back ache and swollen ankles!"

"And his morning sickness!" Harm agreed, as he pushed open the door to the diner.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm closed the door behind him and turned, bracing up to attention as Mac did the same.

"Commander Rabb and Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie, JAG Corps, sir!"

Captain Preece eyed them with a pilot's keen eyes, in which Harm thought he saw a gleam of humour that almost matched the gleam of gold aviator's wings on the other officer's chest.

"Felt the need to bring your own counsel, Commander?" he asked lightly.

"No, sir, Colonel MacKenzie is Lieutenant Foster's defence counsel, sir!"

"Really? I don't know how you legal types work, but isn't there a conflict of interest in the two of you working together?"

"Not at all, sir. I understand that Lieutenant Foster is in pre-trial confinement? So, Colonel MacKenzie will be working with him at the brig, while I'm in office somewhere your Senior Chief has managed to hide me from the public!"

Preece grinned, "Ashamed of your new designator?" he asked with a nod at Harm's wings.

Harm took the comment in the manner in which it was meant, "No, sir. I rather think your Senior Chief just wants to hide the embarrassment of having a JAG or two hanging around the base!"

"Could be, Commander, could just be! And Colonel, welcome to Oceana. We don't see that many Marines around here so I'm sure you'll be an object of interest to some. Please don't take it too personally!"

"I'll try not to, sir!" Mac said somewhat stiffly, not quite sure how to take this aviator captain, whose attitude was so different from usual gun-club Captains with whom she mostly came into contact.

"Good. Now, as to Foster being in confinement, that is not correct. He is however under arrest and except for his meals, to and from which he is escorted, he is confined to his quarters in the BOQ. I'll have a driver and vehicle detailed for your use while you are with us. Commander Rabb, I don't believe that will be necessary for you, as you will be office bound. Now… the key question is, how long are you going to have to put up with me?"

"Hopefully just today, sir. I can probably get all I need for the moment in one day," Mac answered, "but as for Commander Rabb…" she left the sentence hanging and looked at Harm.

Harm looked doubtful, "A lot depends on the identity of the people who made the complaints, sir. If they are sailors or officers on base here then I can interview them in situ and depending on their numbers, I might need to come back tomorrow. Bit if they are civilians, I can contact them just as easily from Falls Church."

Captain Preece nodded, "In that case, you'll need to see this. Maybe both of you?" he opened a desk drawer and pulled out a CD case which he handed to Harm.

"And this is, sir?" Harm asked as he took it.

"That is raw footage of a holiday video, shot on Virginia beach by Captain Archer, the CAG off the _Harry S Truman_."

Preece noticed Mac's confusion, "Colonel, this base is 'home' to sixteen naval aviation squadrons, and at any one time fourteen of those squadrons are deployed. The _Harry S Truman_ has been refitting across the way at Norfolk, and her Air Group have been lodging with us. The air component as well as the ship's company are allowed to take leave while they are ashore, and Captain Archer brought his family to Virginia Beach so that he would be available if needed. As luck would have it, he was actually on the beach, filming his children when the incident occurred. I don't know whether the way you work allows it, but it might help you if you were to see the tape. Senior Chief Herero will be able to set that up for you."

"Thank you, sir. It will help, tremendously," Mac replied, "but I just have one question for you sir. Exactly how long has Lieutenant Foster spent under arrest?"

Captain Preece flipped open the file. "He was seen by me within half an hour of his landing his F-Fourteen on the day of the incident and I placed him in arrest that same afternoon… so that is eleven days ago. Is that important?"

"Yes, sir! If he is in confinement or under arrest we have only ninety days from the first day of his arrest to bring him to trial. Article ten of the Rules for Courts-Martial, sir. Goes to the accused's rights to a speedy trial."

"I see…" Captain Preece reached out and toggled the call switch on his intercom, "Senior Chief, can you come in please?"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm and Mac sat back in the rather cramped office Senior Chief Herero had found for them on the first floor of base headquarters and for the third time watched the short video of a clearly identifiable F-14 buzz the beach at extremely low level and pull up barely in time to clear the towering hotels that faced onto the boardwalk at Virginia beach. The aircraft was so low that the squadron markings on the tail and the aircraft nose number were plainly visible even on the less than professional quality video.

There was no doubt that the pilot had disobeyed the Base Standing Regulation that the hard deck was permanently set at two thousand feet AGL. His progress towards the shore had been marked by twin plumes of sea-water that could only have been created by the exhausts of an extremely low flying twin engine jet, as were the wind blasted swirls of sand as the jet crossed the beach, the terrified screams of women and children and the curses of men were clearly heard on the video sound track.

As the video ended for the third time, Harm clicked the 'pause' button on the remote control, "Did you want to see that again?" he asked quietly, his spirits subdued by the example of airborne stupidity he had just witnessed.

Mac shook her head numbly, "If that video is accurate, then what the hell has the Admiral lumbered me with? How am I supposed to defend against that?"

"I doubt the Admiral knows of the existence of the video, let alone what's on it, otherwise I'm pretty sure he would have landed me with the defence," Harm tried to lift the mood, but judging by the lack of Mac's response he hadn't succeeded.

"You know I'm going to have that disc forensically analysed, to make sure it hasn't been edited, or images superimposed, or anything like that, don't you?" Mac asked.

"You think, you seriously think that the disc has been tampered with?" Harm asked in surprise.

Mac shook her head impatiently, "No, of course not, but I do need to explore every avenue open to me, because with just this tape as evidence, if it is accurate, Foster is going down, and there is nothing I can do to prevent it!"


	97. Dealing the Deck

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 97  
>Dealing the Deck<strong>

Harm rose to his feet as the door opened to admit a sports shirt and chinos clad man a few years older than Harm. "Thank you for coming in so promptly, sir. I know you're on leave with your family, so I appreciate you coming in, and I'll make this is a quick as I can."

"Don't worry about doing too quickly…" the older man's eyebrow lifted slightly as he saw Ham's wings, "just concentrate on doing it right, Commander!"

"Of course, sir." Harm replied indicating the chair on the other side of the desk, and then indicating the portable voice recorder perched on the desk he said, "Do you mind if I tape the interview, I find the tone of voice adds to the word itself?"

"Go ahead, Commander."

"Thank you, sir. Please state for the record, your name, rank and duty station."

"I am Captain Edward Thomas Archer, Commander Carrier Air Wing Twenty-Four on board the _USS Harry S Truman_."

"Thank you, sir. Please tell me in your own words where you were and what you saw the afternoon of the alleged incident of low flying that lead you to report the alleged incident to the base Commander."

"Alleged? There was nothing alleged about it, Commander. It happened. I was there. I saw it!"

"Understood sir, but unless and until the accused is found guilty, there is… well… let's put it this way, sir; we both know what happened, but it's a legal conceit, or a fiction if you will, that until it is proven, it may not have happened!"

"Damn' fool nonsense!" Archer snorted.

"It may well be, sir, but it's the sort of nonsense guaranteed under law that keeps the innocent free."

"Well… yes…" Archer appeared to be making an effort to get over his indignation, "but when there's incontrovertible proof…"

"Even so, sir! I mean, I have seen the footage of the incident, and I have no doubt it happened, but we still have to observe the forms."

"Very well… On the afternoon of the incident I was on leave. I had taken my wife and two children to Virginia Beach, for a family afternoon out. The kids were playing in the sand and splashing about in the ocean while my wife and I kept an eye on them."

"Whereabouts on the beach were you, sir?"

"Grommet Park, just north of Rudee Inlet, a little to the south of the Schooner Inn Hotel."

"And what happened, sir?"

"I was filming the kids playing on the beach when I saw an airplane approaching from the north flying very low, and fast parallel to the shore line."

"How low and how fast, sir?"

"No more than one hundred, maybe one hundred fifty feet ASL, low enough and fast enough for the engine exhaust to kick up two plumes of water on the ocean surface."

"Parallel to the shore, sir?"

"Yes, initially. It was just to the north of us when the pilot banked hard to starboard in what must have been a five or six G turn and headed straight for the beach."

"Still at the low level, sir?"

"Yes, but after he'd competed his turn he started to climb, but he had to light his afterburners and go into a practically vertical climb to miss the condos to the north of the hotel. Commander, it was chaos for a few seconds! Women and kids were screaming, some of us thought he was going to hit the building, other were sand blasted by the sand thrown up by his jet wash and engine exhaust, and the noise to people who weren't used to it must have been terrifying…" he managed a slightly self-deprecating grin. "Hell, I'm used to airplanes flying low and fast, and I wasn't directly underneath him, but I still ducked… a reflex action, I suppose…"

"But you retained sufficient presence of mind to carry on filming?"

"Well… to tell the truth, that must have been by reflex too. I don't recall making the decision to film, and I guess I'd even forgotten had the camera in my hand… It wasn't until after the excitement was over I realised that I might have caught the incident on film."

"And what did you do then?"

"I drove my family back to their hotel, and I came straight here, and made an official report to the Base Commander, and left him a copy of the disc,"

"And do you still have the original?"

"I do… but… it has some family footage at the front end of the film that I want to keep…."

"We can work around that, sir," Harm assured him. "Now, sir, I need you to write down what you've just told me, on this statement form, and then we're done."

"What happens to that young idiot?"

"I think I can safely say that his days as a Naval Aviator are finished. Even if he walks away from a court martial – which in itself is extremely doubtful – he will go in front of a FNAEB and based on the video evidence and your statement alone, my best guess is that he will be stripped of his flight status."

"Good! I hate seeing any pilot grounded, but we cannot afford to have idiots like that young man performing such acts of sheer stupidity!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Mac looked in disbelief at the young officer sat opposite to her. They were in his room at the BOQ, and like most such rooms it was Spartan in its furnishings, but Foster's room went beyond that. Most officers tried to personalise their space, with books and magazines on shelves or scattered on the table and with photographs of wives, families or girlfriends on the night stand or chest of drawers. But this room was devoid of all such items and looking at the blanket stretched tightly over the bed boot-camp fashion, Mac was willing to bet that a dime dropped onto the blanket would bounce high enough to satisfy the most demanding Parris Island DI.

"What do you mean, you want to skip an article thirty-two, go straight to court-martial and then plead guilty?" she demanded.

"Hell, Colonel, I did the crime, so I'll do the time, but I figure that by holding my hands up, I can save the navy time, trouble and money, and maybe parlay that into a lighter sentence."

"Entering a guilty plea puts a federal conviction on your record; you're still a young man, it could make future employment problematical," Mac pointed out.

"I have no worries about future employment, ma'am," Foster replied, somewhat smugly, and a suspicion started to grow in Mac's mind.

"I need you to be completely honest with me, Lieutenant, did you deliberately fly recklessly in order to be court-martialled and dismissed the service?"

"No, ma'am," Foster replied, but Mac had caught an instant of hesitancy in his answer and her suspicions began to solidify.

"So why did you pull such a damn' fool stunt, Lieutenant?"

"We got men and women out there, dying every day, but even that's not reported any more, there's an unending stream of C-Seventeens coming into Dover with a cargo of caskets nearly every day. It was about time some of those lard-ass civilians loafing on the beach felt just a fraction of the fear a guy feels when he takes enemy fire, whether he's a ground-pounder or a jet jockey!"

Mac nodded. It was not a view she shared, but it was one she could understand. "So, if you want to save the navy time and trouble by pleading guilty, what would you want in return?"

"Best case scenario, ma'am? Allowed to resign, no brig time, no FNAEB."

"Realistically?" Mac asked dryly.

"Dismissal, still no brig time and still no FNAEB."

'Yeah, good luck with that!' Mac thoughts but said, "Okay… I'll make an offer of a plea bargain to the prosecution, and if he accepts, then we'll take it to the convening authority, but I must tell you I don't think that will fly. The convening authority will insist on some brig time, and may insist on a FNAEB!"

Foster shook his head, "Not good enough. If I gotta stand a FNAEB, then I plead not guilty, and fight it all the way!"

"Alright, Lieutenant, I'll give it a try, but right now, I can't promise anything!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Lieutenant Vandenberg reporting as ordered, sir!"

"Thank you, Lieutenant, relax and taker a set please." Harm waited until the young RIO had sat down. "You were Lieutenant Foster's RIO on the afternoon of the alleged incident?"

Vandenberg hesitated, "Yes, sir," he admitted.

Harm put down his pencil and reaching forward turned off the voice recorder. "Look, I know this isn't easy. From what I understand Foster was your regular drover and you'd flown with him for how long? Eight, nine months?"

"Yes, sir, since just after last Christmas."

"And like all pilots and RIOs, you've bonded, become a team, right?"

"Uh… yes, sir."

"And now you don't want to betray your team-mate… but there's not much you can do. You're stuck between a rock and hard place. If you tell the truth you think you'll be deserting one of your own, leaving him behind – and we've had it drilled into us that we don't do that, right?"

Vandenberg smiled with relief, "Yes, sir, I thought you'd understand…" his eyes flicked to Harm's own gold wings before he looked up into the JAG's grey blue eyes.

Harm let a sympathetic grin show momentarily on his face. "The trouble with that Lieutenant, is that although loyalty to your team mate is admirable, it is superseded by the oath of loyalty you took to this country. So you need to make up your mind, which is more important: the one or the many. And if it helps you to make a decision, you might consider this: Not answering my questions truthfully could lay you open to a charge of conduct unbecoming an officer as well as one of obstructing a JAG investigation. Both, or either of those charges, if proven against you could lead to the loss of your career, and possible confinement."

"I understand, sir," Vandenberg said miserably. "Sir, I want to do the right thing, but if it gets me the name of being a snitch on the squadron, well, I might as well resign tomorrow, nobody would want to fly with me in that case, and that could be just the beginning of my problems!"

"I understand that is a risk, Lieutenant, I really do. But if I'm right, Lieutenant Foster already has a name for recklessness in the air, and it's only peer loyalty that has kept him flying for as long as he has. I speak from my own experience and observation here Lieutenant when I tell you that if Lieutenant Foster keeps flying it won't be too long before he kills himself, or worse somebody else. I know, I've seen it happen, and do you want to be in his back seat when he has a ramp strike because he pushed his fuel level beyond bingo, or maybe stand a court-martial alongside him when he attacks the wrong target because he didn't follow the ROEs? Believe me, I've seen what happens when marginally proficient pilots are kept in the air, as well as what happens when those who aren't quite as good as they think they are come unstuck."

Vandenberg shifted uncomfortably, "Sir, I really don't want to do this…" he said miserably.

Harm's voice lost its easy-going edge, "Listen up, Mister. We can either do this here and now, or I can charge you with obstruction here and now, and then when it comes to Foster's trial, I can subpoena you and put you on the stand, where you will have no chance to prepare a story, because you will have no idea of the questions that will come at you, and where if you fail to come completely clean you could well be charged with perjury, and that carries a penalty of dismissal, loss of all pay, pension and privileges as well as a lengthy period of confinement."

For a long moment Vandenberg stared Harm in the eye and then all thoughts of further resistance seemed to have fled his mind and his shoulders sagged. "Alright, sir, what do you want to know?"

"Firstly, was this a one off stunt by Foster, or is it part of a pattern of reckless flying?" Harm asked.

"He's done a couple of things that I didn't like and that I spoke to him about afterwards, but this was the first time he'd done anything so… so…"

"Stupid and dangerous?" Harm asked, "Because that is exactly what it was. I have seen film of his low pass, do you realise just how low he was, just how near he came to flying that Tomcat with himself – and you – still strapped in into a condo tower? Believe me when I say it looks like he missed by less than a hundred feet!"

"Yes, sir. I know that. It's the reason I've asked the CO to allocate me to another pilot."

"If you've already done that, why do you have a problem talking to me?" Harm asked, although he had a pretty shrewd idea of what the answer was going to be.

"Sir, you know what it's like in a squadron. There are no secrets. The word about Foster's stunt was bound to get out so I didn't mind asking the skipper for a new driver. But it was squadron business, kept inside the squadron, not like having our dirty linen dragged out of the hamper in front of everybody!"

"It's too late for that Lieutenant. Not only have there been more than three hundred complaints to the Base Commander, some from civilians – including the Mayor and the Chief of Police - but the _Truman_'s CAG was on the beach with his family that afternoon, and not only is he pretty displeased, he also filmed the low pass. So, Lieutenant, Lieutenant Foster's goose is well and truly cooked. And so far I haven't even looked at the post-flight avionics read out."

"Why do you need my say so, then, sir?"

"Well, primarily to find out whether you were just dragged along for the ride or whether you encouraged Foster in his stupidity."

"No, sir! I did not! I kept telling him to get back up above the hard deck, and I nearly swung for him when we landed, it was only that the Crew Chief got between us that I didn't clean his clock on the flight line in front of everybody!"

"You might want to buy that Crew Chief a beer. He might just have saved your career!" Harm grinned but then sobered again. "You just mentioned the hard deck. Did you know what it was set at before you took that flight?"

"Yes, sir! Base Regulations set the hard deck at two thousand feet AGL."

"Did Foster know that?"

"You'd have to ask him that sir, but yeah, he should have done, we were all briefed on flight restrictions at Oceana before we flew in."

Harm nodded and made a note on his legal pad. "Okay, here's what we're going to do. Right now, you're going to tell me in your own words what happened, what Foster did, what you did, what you said to Foster, what he said back to you, everything you can remember about that flight, and while you're doing that, I'm going to record what you say and write it down. Once we've finished, you'll sign the statement and then it becomes part of the case. Understood?"

"Aye. Aye, sir," Vandenberg said miserably.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Babs Saunders plumped down in her chair in the former stores closet that she used as an office and looked across the desk at Jo Pearson, "Well… I've just got back from the Navy Yard Brig, where I met with Lieutenant Vukovic."

Jo took a sharp onward breath, but Babs smiled, "Hey, easy there. He's willing to do a deal, which includes the attempted murder of Commander Turner, as well as his intimidation of a witness – you. And he even told us how he got a copy of that tape, which he passed to Commander Baxter."

Jo paled but raised her chin determinedly, "Does that have to come out at trial?" she asked.

"No… I we can reach an agreement, he pleads guilty to all charges, none of the evidence has to be read into the record and the judge hands down a lighter sentence. But I think we can safely say that Mister Vukovic's naval career is over, his misdeeds will be reported to the Bar Associations of which he is a member, so his legal career will be gone too, and he will definitely face a lengthy term of confinement." Babs paused, "Now this next bit is up to you, and I'm not going to press you for an answer straight away, because I think you'll need time to consider your options. There is no statute of limitations for rape in the State of Nebraska, so what I need to know is, if through Vukovic we would trace the man who raped you, would you wish to press charges? No! Don't answer right now. Think it over; what would you have to tell your family and think about other women both at Nebraska, Lincoln, or wherever the man who attacked you is these days!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm dropped his sea-bag just inside the door and with a sigh of relief stripped off his jacket, hanging it carefully on the back of a chair before he dropped onto the foot of the bed and fumbled his cell phone out of his pocket, and then a smile curving his lips, he lay back on the bed and relaxed for a moment before pressing #2 on the speed dial.

"_SecNav's Legal Office, Legalman One Rabb speaking, sir_."

"Hey boo'ful, just to let you know that as I thought, I'm going to have to overnight down here. But I shall be back tomorrow."

"_Just as well I took that bath last night_!" Jen replied and Harm could hear the laughter in her voice.

"Yeah, it was…"

"_So, all nice and snug in the VOQ_?" Jen teased him, knowing his opinion of most of the VOQs in the mid-Atlantic region.

"No… no such luck. The Harry S Truman's air wing is in Oceana and everything is full! Mac got into the female VOQ okay, but I'm off base at the Days Inn in Virginia Beach. It's a bit more comfortable than VOQ, although the bed looks a little big for one and I reckon I'm going to feel pretty lonely tonight."

"_Aw, poor baby_," Jen chuckled, "_But never mind, Mommy will make it up to you when you get home tomorrow. You will get home tomorrow, won't you_?" she added, slightly anxiously.

"Yep, I just need to speak with the airplane's crew chief in the morning and get a copy of the avionics report from him. Then get the original Video disc from the CAG and then I'm outta here!"

"_Oh… okay, see you tomorrow then_."

"Yeah, but there's something else, too…"

"_Wha_t?" Jen asked in a resigned tone.

"I just need to tell you that I love you so very much," Harm smiled.

"_Oh…"_ Jen's breath caught in her throat for an instant, "_And I love you too_!" she managed before she started to sniffle.

"Hey, hey, don't cry…" Harm protested.

"_I'm not crying_," Jen chuckled damply, "_It's just hormones raging out of control! But you'd best go now before I get caught speaking with you instead of working_!" Jen managed.

"Okay, see you tomorrow

"_Yeah, tomorrow_," Jen said happily and put the phone down. She looked up as a box of Kleenex was suddenly thrust under her nose to see Angela Hartmann smiling down at her, "Funny how you always seem to get these hormone attacks whenever you speak with Harm!"

Jen took one of the Kleenex, dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose before she glared helplessly up at her friend.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"'Morning, Mac," Harm greeted her as he slid into the chair on the opposite side of the mess hall table.

"M'mm…" Mac chewed and swallowed her bite of bacon before answering, "'Morning to you too!" She eyed his bowl of muesli and the apple he was slicing into it with marked disfavour.

Harm caught her disapproving eye and just grinned, "Just get on with eating your dead animal!" he recommended her.

"If it means I don't have to eat bird-seed, then damn' right I will!" Mac returned, and for the next few minutes the pair ate in silence, until Harm finished his bowl of cereal and standing asked, "Coffee?"

Mac grimaced, "Yeah, it probably won't be drinkable, but, yeah, thanks."

By the time Harm returned to the table Mac had finished her eggs, bacon and cottage fries, and had dragged a couple of doughnuts in front of her. Harm said nothing but gave them a pained look which only brought a smile to Mac's lips as he grumbled, "Enough sugar in those things to send you into coma!"

"No… your problem is that you don't appreciate the finer things in life!"

"Oh, I do, I do, I appreciate the finer things in life." Harm answered calmly.

"Yeah? Like what?" Mac demanded.

"Like living," Harm retorted pointedly.

Mac scowled, it was her own fault she supposed by leaving herself open to that particular counter-attack but she hated being out-argued by that damn' squid who now sat smiling smugly at her from across the table.

Picking up her coffee cup she tentatively tasted the brew and then in defiance of Harm's raised eyebrow she added a further two spoons of sugar to the drink. "So… how much more do you need to do here today?" she asked.

"Just get hold of the original of that video disc, and see the crew chief for Foster's Tomcat."

Mac nodded, "The evidence is pretty conclusive, isn't it?"

"Yes, Mac it is, and it will all come to you under disclosure."

"H'mm… what if I said that Foster was willing to plead guilty to all charges in return for a reduced sentence?"

"A plea bargain? This early? Wow, this case really has you rattled doesn't it?"

"Um… not my idea…" Mac said diffidently.

"No?"

"No." Mac shook her head, "Foster made the offer."

"So what did he…? No… we can't discuss that here. Give me a minute to finish my coffee and my apple and we'll cut across to the cubby hole the Senior Chief found for me!"

"Cubby hole?" Mac teased gently, "Sounds almost palatial!"

Harm grinned and drained his coffee cup, "Palatial? No. In fact I'm beginning to think that I was right when I said he didn't want a JAG officer in full view, embarrassing the command!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jo Pearson rapped on Babs' office door, "Ma'am?"

"Come on in, Jo. What can I do for you?"

"It's about what you said yesterday, about going after the guy who… who… who made that video…" Jo said with difficulty.

"Take a seat," Babs invited her and then as the younger woman sat, she took a closer look. Jo was pale, miserable and her eyes were reddened and slightly puffy, but she also had a look of determination about her.

"So… tell me what's on your mind," Babs invited her.

"Yes, ma'am. If we can find out who it was that… raped me," she swallowed hard, obviously finding it difficult to say the word, "then yes, let's nail the son of a bitch's hide to the wall!"

Babs sent another shrewd look across the desk, "And what about your parents?" she asked.

"I… I… uh… spoke to then last night, and told them what happened to me, and came clean about Lindsey and everything…" Jo said miserably.

"And?" Babs prompted her gently.

Jo gave a bitter little laugh, "My father won't speak to me anymore, and all I can get from my mother is her worries about the scandal that I've dragged the family into."

Babs nodded sympathetically. Although not common these days such a reaction from parents, particularly those with social aspirations, wasn't completely unheard of. "So, despite your parents' views you are happy to go ahead with this?"

"Happy? No, definitely not happy, but yes, I'm willing, more than willing to go ahead with this. But, it's a civilian matter, how are you going to…?"

"Well, we know how and from whom Vukovic got his slimy hands on the tape. It seems when your name came to his notice, he checked your SRB and found out which college you'd attended, and being a Greek he contacted his 'brothers' in the same frat at Lincoln, to see if any of them had anything he could use as leverage, and one of them produced the tape and sent it to him."

"Those sons of bitches!" Jo gasped in outrage. "Which frat?"

"Eta Beta Pi, a guy named Chester – or Chet – Baldwin, that name ring any bells?"

"Oh, yeah, it certainly does!" Jo said indignantly, "He was a year ahead of me, a track and field star. Always had a cheerleader type hanging onto him… but he kept asking me for a date too…funny that…" she added in a quieter voice, "but it never occurred to me before now, but he never even spoke to me until after… after… whoever it was did… that…"

"H'mm… Jo, the night you were attacked, you said you went to a party was it in the Eta Beta Pi frat house?"

Jo shook her head, "No… it was the Alpha Sigma Tau frat house, off campus…"

"So… if your drink was spiked there, and you were assaulted in your room – on campus?"

Jo nodded.

"Then someone must have somehow gotten you out of the party, and back to the dorm. Would it have been that easy to do, without anyone seeing them?"

Jo thought for a moment, "Could have been, I guess. And even if the guy was seen, all he'd have to say was that I'd passed out at the party and he was taking me back to my room. Playing the good Samaritan…" Jo shrugged, "He might have been deterred if he was seen, but y'know… what if there were two of them… one attacked me while the other filmed…" a look of heightened distress came over her face, "Oh God, what if… what if they both… took it in turns?"

The same thought had occurred to Babs, but she managed a second smile of sympathy, "I don't think that was the case, Jo. The camera was set up and didn't move throughout the attack, so he was probably on his own. It's one thing for him to brag that he'd succeeded in getting you into bed, but another thing to have someone there to witness what really happened."

"But the video shows…"

"The video shows that you were incapacitated and unable to give informed consent to what happened to you, but it was touted as a 'sex tape', not as a rape tape. Maybe college boys aren't as critical as the panel at Lindsey's trial."

Jo still looked unhappy, "Okay, but what do we do now?"

"Well first off, I have to speak with the Admiral again, and then I need to speak with the college and see if we can get a lead on this Chet Baldwin guy, and if so, then I go to interview him, or as he's not military – at least we don't think so – get NCIS to interview him. They are a Federal Agency after all. Pretty low down in the alphabet pecking order, but still a Federal Agency. In the meantime, I'll keep you up to date with what's happening.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"What?" Harm asked in amazement, and then shook his head, "Nope, ain't going to happen, Mac!"

"But it's not really your say-so, is it, Harm? It's not up to you. All you have to do is take the offer to the convening authority." Mac replied in a reasonable voice.

"Yeah, right!" Harm scoffed, "But only after we've sold the deal to the Admiral! And I just can't see him going for that! Even if the convening authority does – which ain't likely! Mac, even if we forgo the court-martial, the Base Commander and NAVAIRLANT will insist on a FNAEB. Foster must know this… So… what the hell is he playing at?"

"Um… what would you say if I told you that I suspect that he pulled that stunt deliberately in order to either be allowed to resign or earn himself a dismissal?"

Harm say back in his chair and idly drummed the fingers of one hand on the desk top, "Why would you say that?" he asked.

"Don't do that!" Mac said sharply, nodding at Harm's hand, "You know how much that aggravates me!"

Harm smiled half apologetically, "I know, I know, but it's so much fun pushing your buttons!"

"Jerk!" Mac grinned.

"And stop trying to deflect," Harm added, "What do you mean that you think he might be doing this to get out of the Navy?"

"Well… I don't know how much of this I should be telling you…" Mac hesitated, but then took the plunge, "When he said he didn't want to contest the case I reminded him that a court-martial conviction would leave a Federal Conviction on his record and that might make future employment problematical he answered that he wasn't worried about the conviction, and even a short period of confinement, but he is dead set against a flight review board."

"H'mm… which would suggest that he's got another, maybe a better paying flying job waiting for him outside of the Navy, but…" Harm flipped open Foster's personnel file, "Apart from training types, the only type he's qualified on is the Tomcat. It doesn't make sense. Apart from the Navy the only people flying the F-Fourteen are the Iranian Air Force…"

"No… It still doesn't make sense," Mac objected, "If he goes flying for the Iranians, what difference would a Flight Review Board on his record make?"

Harm shook his head, "It wouldn't make any difference at all. What the hell is Foster playing at?"

Mac shook her head, "I knew the Admiral had screwed the pooch on this one!" she said bitterly.

"In what way?" Harm asked, two vertical frown lines appearing between his eyes at Mac's criticism of a superior.

"Well, you know your way around the aviation world much better than I and you have a… an instinctual feeling… a gut feeling for what's going on… so maybe if you were Foster's defence counsel, you might have been able to figure out what his game is!"

Harm shrugged, but felt compelled to offer Mac a word of caution, "Well you may be right, but don't start criticising the Admiral where other ears can hear you!"

"Of course not! But when have we ever pulled our punches when we're together alone?"

"Rarely, very rarely!" Harm let out a bark of bitter-edged laughter, "But in this case, we need to tread carefully. Now for the moment it looks like Foster had a game plan all along, and all we can do is play the cards he dealt us. But, Mac, I am not taking that offer to the Admiral. The best I'll give you is dismissal, loss of all pension, pay and allowances, a FNAEB and two years confinement."

"I'll take it back to him Harm. But he won't accept it!"

"In that case counsellor, I'll see you in court!"

"Probably," Mac agreed gloomily, as she pushed her chair back from the desk.


	98. Playing the Hand

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 98  
>Playing the Hand<strong>

Harm hung his cover on the peg on the back of the door, and placing the file on the desk he turned to the water cooler and poured a plastic cup full of the cold liquid and then with a sigh of contentment, he drained the cup and tossed it into the trash.

Mac looked at the dark patches of sweat on Harm's peanut butter shirt and silently thanked the impulse that had decided her to wait for Harm's return from the flight line rather than trek across the acres of tarmac to talk to the errant pilot's crew chief and then stand around and wait for the avionics report to be downloaded from the jet's flight recorder.

"Well?" she asked with an amused smile of appreciation at Harm's performance. "How did it go?"

"Yeah, it's a little on the warm side out there," Harm commented as he poured another cup of water and then slid into his seat.

"Clown," Mac said without acrimony, "What did the flight chief have to say?"

"Nothing admissible in court," Harm said, "Although his opinion of Foster was mixed. He claims that Foster is a damn good stick, probably one of the best he's ever seen, but he also rated him as, and I quote, 'One of the dumbest-ass shitkickers that ever climbed into a jet'!''

Mac nearly giggled at that but by biting the inside of her cheek she managed to resist the temptation, "Okay… and what do the print-outs give us? That is if they give us anything."

"Oh, they give us plenty," Harm replied opening the file and unfolding a long sheet of fanfold paper. "Here, this line shows the altitude of the jet and this line shows the aircraft's airspeed, and here is the line indicating the jet's attitude. Along the bottom is the time line. If you look here… see the sudden increase in attitude and altitude? That's the pull-up he made to avoid flying into that condo block. This printout shows fuel consumption. See that sudden jump there? Well, look at the time line along the bottom and compare that to the sudden change in altitude on the other print-out; that shows just when he lit his afterburners to gain height rapidly!"

"So… with the video clip, the statement from his RIO and these printouts, we've got him?"

"Yeah, but we had him before. Didn't you say he made no attempt to deny what he'd done?"

"Only to claim that he wasn't hazarding his aircraft because he was in total control all the time."

Harm looked at Mac steadily, "That's bullshit, and you know it. Look you don't get through NFO training if you're the nervous type and the first thing Foster's RIO did when they landed was to ask his Squadron CO to be allocate to another pilot. So even if Foster claimed he wasn't indulging in hazardous flying, he certainly scared his back seater!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Captain Preece sat back in his chair, twirling a pencil between his fingers while he regarded his two visitors. "Right, I've heard what you've had to say, and I agree with your recommendations. Foster is to be charged with disobeying a regulation in that he flew below the authorised hard deck for the Oceana Operating Area, recklessly, wilfully and wantonly hazarding an aircraft and reckless endangerment of his RIO and the public both on the beach and in that condo block."

Preece paused, "I'll pass those recommendations and my support for them up to NAVAIRLANT – the convening authority and I have no doubt that we will see Mister Foster in a courtroom in the not too distant future. In the meantime, pending the outcome of a FNAEB, I'm pulling his flight status. Commander, Colonel…" Preece rose to his feet, signalling the end of the conversation, "Thank you for your speedy response and prompt action in this case. Is there anything else that you need or need to discuss?"

Harm and Mac exchanged a glance. "No, sir," Mac replied speaking for both of them.

"In that case, my thanks once again." Preece paused and then with a glimmer of a smile added, "You are dismissed!"

Harm and Mac stiffened into a brace and snapped out a perfectly synchronised "Aye, aye, sir!" before they both executed an about face, Harm hesitating a moment to let Mac gain a step on him before they quit the office.

Preece watched them go and then took a deep breath and sat down, squaring his shoulders before reaching for the intercom on his desk, "Senior Chief?"

"_Yes, sir_?"

"Get me an appointment with COMNAVAIRLANT for ASAP, please."

"_Aye, aye, sir_!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"So what happens now, ma'am?" Harriet asked Babs as they and Jo Pearson shared a secluded table at lunch.

"Well… I've already spoken to the Lincoln, Nebraska police and registered the complaint. They've asked, naturally, to see the evidence. I'm sorry Jo, but that video is the strongest evidence we have. They've told me that if it is apparent from the video that you did not consent – that is grant informed consent – then it is indeed rape, and they will speak with Mister Baldwin and attempt to find out who the man in the video is. It may take some time, Jo," she said sympathetically. "There may be jurisdictional issues that have to be resolved."

"In what way, ma'am?" J asked.

"Well, unless Baldwin is still in Lincoln – unlikely given the time that has elapsed since you were attacked, then the Lincoln Police will have to make arrangements with whichever police department in whose jurisdiction Baldwin now lives before they can even interview him. I can't see any police department turning down a request for assistance in a case like this, but it all takes time."

"And in the meantime? What about that Vukofish guy?" Harriet demanded.

"That depends a lot on his new attorney. Vukovic has hinted that he's quite happy to it in pre-trial confinement provided that the time he spends there is discounted against his sentence." Babs shrugged, "But it's a matter of a couple of months weighed against a likely sentence of fifteen to twenty years for attempted murder."

"Why is he suddenly so keen to co-operate, ma'am? After all, we flew from Pearl to DC in the same party and he didn't seem to be particularly remorseful about what he'd done… If I remember aright, he sat in his seat next to his brig-chaser with a damned sneer on his face all the time. He was so… so… damned arrogant."

"You're right, Jo, his attitude has changed. I haven't been able to pin him down as to why. As soon as I start to ask about anything other than the plea bargain, he clams up and demands a lawyer. But…" Babs' eyes took a distant expression and her face settled into thoughtful lines, "I wonder if it has anything to do… I mean if it is connected in any way to his uncle's sudden decision to reverse his plea…?"

Babs gave herself a little shake and smiled at the other two, "I'm sorry, something has just occurred to me, and I need to go check it out. I'll speak with you both later…." With a hurried smile, she stood, grabbed her tray with one hand, tucked her cover under her other arm, turned and headed for the tray rack and then the commissary doors.

Jo turned to Harriet, "What just happened there?"

Harriet followed Jo's line of sight to the still-swinging commissary doors and then turned her head to look at the younger woman, "I have absolutely no idea," she confessed.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"What are you doing?" Mac asked as Harm indicated right to leave the interstate.

"I don't know about you, but I'm hungry," he grinned, "It is lunchtime, and besides I could do with a comfort break!"

"Oh… okay… I could just about manage something light to eat, where are you headed?" Mac asked.

"I've never known a day when you couldn't manage something light! As for where we're going? The Silver Wheel!"

Mac pursed her lips, "Never heard of it. What's it like?" she asked with a hint of suspicion in her voice, "Not one of your trendy organic rabbit food places is it?"

"No, it's an ordinary roadside diner, but they do have a salad bar, so I'll be happy while you inhale whatever poison your system craves today!"

"M'mm…" Mac laid her back against the headrest, sighed with content and closed her eyes, "Do you think they'll have a Sloppy Joe's?" she asked dreamily.

Harm shuddered, "All things are possible!" then he paused, shook his head and muttered, "God, the things you eat!"

He was rewarded by a peal of laughter from Mac followed by a sideways look from under her lashes.

Both were still grinning ten minutes later when he pulled into the parking lot of the Silver Wheel.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Babs Saunders hung her cover on the peg on the back of the door of her temporary office, and dropped her briefcase by the side of her desk as she sat down and booted her computer. Her visit to the Navy Yard brig hadn't gone quite as well as she'd hoped, Vukovic had been extremely cagey when questioned whether or not he'd had any contact with his uncle in the past forty-eight hours, but Babs had more than just a suspicion that he had, and his sudden reversal of attitude had much to do with Lindsey's sudden decision to change his pleas to guilty and that in turn had a lot to do with her bringing the names of Admiral Wyatt and Captain Ridgley into the record. Yep, there was definitely something in that connection that Vukovic and more especially Lindsey desperately wanted to keep from being examined too closely. But what exactly was such a dark secret that Lindsey immediately gave up the fight in his own defence and had Vukovic practically begging to be allowed to make a plea bargain.

Unfortunately there wasn't much more she could do, without any proof, until Vukovic's new defence counsel had read him or herself into the case and then the two attorneys could sit down and try to hammer out some sort of agreement.

Shaking her head at the thought Babs mentally prepared herself to go and ask the Admiral id he had any idea as to how long it might be before a new defence attorney for Vukovic could be appointed and stretched her hand out for the telephone to call Tiner to ask him if the Admiral could see her this afternoon. She had barely picked up the handset, however, when a sharp rap on her office door frame distracted her.

Looking up she saw in the doorway a strange Commander wearing the mill-rindes of the JAG Corps and smiled. The answer to her prayers – even if she wasn't, strictly speaking, a maiden.

"Good afternoon," she greeted him, "Come on in and take a pew and tell me what I can do for you."

"You are Commander Barbara Saunders?" he asked courteously as he extended a hand in greeting.

"I am," she agreed, standing and taking his hand. He had, she noticed a firm, dry grasp, and nodded approvingly.

"I'm Commander David Rautsch, and I've come to talk to you about Lieutenant Gregory Vukovic."

Babs blinked, "My, that was fast!" she commented, "I hadn't expected the Admiral to move quite so quickly!"

"You hadn't expected…? Surely, you must have realised that in case of this nature, that the Navy would be pretty damn' quick in acting?"

"Well, granted it's a complex case, and there's been a lot of evidence to collect and collate, as well as having to wait for Commander Turner to be released from hospital…"

"Turner? Who's he?" Rautsch asked, "And what's he got to do with the case?"

"Why… he's the victim of course. He's the man Vukovic is accused of attempting to have murdered!"

"Murdered? What are you talking about?" An obviously bewildered Rautsch asked.

"That's what the court-martial is all about," Babs said, an almost equally confused expression on her face.

At her words Rautsch seemed to make a connection, "You think I'm here to discuss Vukovic's court martial?" he queried

"Well, yes, why else would you be here?"

"Uh… I'm from the IG's office, and I've actually come to speak with you about Admiral Wyatt, Captain Ridgley and Commander Baxter."

"Oh… I see, I am sorry, it's just when you mentioned Vukovic, and then you do got the hamburgers on your sleeves, and I am waiting for Vukovic's replacement defence counsel, vice Baxter and…"

"You thought I was he?" Rautsch grinned. "Well then, I've got a confession to make, yes, I am a JAG, but I haven't set foot in a courtroom for nearly four years, since I was assigned to the IG's office as an investigator. I've never changed my designator so the mill-rindes stay, and tell the truth, I'm quite proud of them."

"Of course," Bab smiled although she felt the colour mount to her cheeks, "So what can I do for you?"

"I'd like to know why you brought up the SRBs for Wyatt, Ridgley, Baxter and Lindsey at the latter's court-martial."

"I'm… I was acting on information received," Babs replied uneasily.

"Relax, Commander, you're not in any trouble, although if you had knowledge of that wrong-doing and hadn't acted you might have been!"

"Does that mean my source won't be in trouble?" Babs queried.

"I shouldn't think so," Rautsch replied, "Why do you ask?"

"Oh… I'm just concerned that sh… that my source may have bent a regulation or two, and I don't want there to be any consequences, but above and beyond that, I'm a little concerned that what happened was akin to an illegal search… the fruit of the poisoned tree, you know?"

"Let us worry about that, Commander. We don't have to work on such strict compliance to the rules of jurisprudence when we go digging, in fact, fishing expeditions are positively encouraged! Now, your source, pleased?"

"My immediate source was Commander Harmon Rabb, a fellow JAG."

"And what was his connection with the case?" Rautsch asked, making an effort to conceal his surprise. Commander Saunders had confirmed his suspicion that Rabb was involved but he was almost sure that Saunders had nearly let slip that her source was a woman, but now she claimed it was a male, a fellow officer at that.

"Peripheral. I'm not sure where he got his information from, but he was the one who brought the multiple connections between Admiral Wyatt, the two captains and Commander Baxter to my notice."

"I see, and where can I find Commander Rabb?" Rautsch asked.

"He's assigned here as another JAG, but I believe he's at Oceana at the moment, investigating a case."

Rautsch rose to his feet, "Thank you, Commander."

"Is that all?" Babs asked in some surprise.

"For the moment, Commander, yes it is. Although we'll probably need to talk again later. Good day to you."

"And to you too, Commander!" Babs said as Rautsch gave a last nod of farewell and let himself out of her office.

Thinking back over the dichotomy between her near slip of the tongue and her identification of Commander Rabb as her informant, Rautsch shook his head slightly, 'Now, what sort of game was the female JAG playing?' he asked himself as he walked along the corridor to the bullpen.

Babs sat back in her char and idly nibbled on the end of a pencil, a habit she had formed as a child when something puzzled her. Obviously the IG's office was taking a great interest in the connection between Wyatt, Baxter and Lindsey, otherwise she was sure that there would have been a much longer interval before inquiries commenced. 'Just what have I gotten myself into? She asked herself. Her musing were rudely interrupted by the ringing of her desk phone, so loud in the silence that she almost visibly jumped. Reaching out a hand she picked up the receiver, "Saunders,"

"Ma'am, it's Tiner. The Admiral compliments, ma'am, and he would like to see you, at your earliest convenience, he said ma'am."

Babs gulped. 'This can't be good', but "Thank you, Tiner, I'll be there directly!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Judge Blakely watched impassively as the fifteen Marines he had just sentenced to a bad conduct discharge and six months confinement were shepherded away by a coterie of MP Staff NCOs, all of the convicted too shocked to make any protest or comment as one by one they were handcuffed and marshalled into a double file.

Blakely turned his attention to the panel, like the accused, all wearing Marine Corps Green, "Thank you for your panel service," he said gravely, "You are dismissed to your normal duties."

The courtroom emptied swiftly after Colonel Blakely had made his exit, leaving Carolyn, Loren and Alan Mattoni to stack their papers together and pack them away in their briefcases.

"Does anyone else feel a sense of relief now that this case is over?" Alan asked.

"What, you're feeling relived after we just kicked your butt?" Carolyn teased him.

Alana had the good grace to grin, "Next, time Carolyn, next time!" her said, but then sobered, "No, that wasn't what I meant… it was just with fifteen defendants all in green, the bailiffs and the panel all in green and the Judge in green, I was feeling a bit oppressed." He shrugged, "Dumb, I know, but…"

"No… not dumb…" Loren said slowly, "Oppressed may be a bit strong, but I felt a sense of…. of… dislocation… It was almost like being at a court-martial for another service…"

"Which of course, it was!" Carolyn said firmly, "But… yeah… I think I get what you mean. There was a distinct lack of blue in the courtroom, and there's none of us used to that!"

"M'mm…" Alan replied thoughtfully.

"Something wrong?" Carolyn inquired.

"No… no… nothing wrong, just trying to figure out the best time to talk to my clients. You do realise this is going to the Navy and Marine Corps court of appeal?"

"Appealing against the conviction?" Loren asked in surprise.

"No… appealing against sentence… despite the stupidity of their offence and the lack of judgement shown in their behaviour, most of those men have served for more than one hitch, and maybe deserve a second chance. Let them take responsibility for their actions, take the BCDs off the table, and substitute a couple of drops in pay-grade, then give them the opportunity to work their way back up through the ranks. If we keep discharging men with their level of experience and length of service we're going to end up with more kids in uniform than men!"

"You don't consider that their length of service and their experience actually exacerbates their behaviour instead of mitigating it?" Loren asked in a disapproving tone.

But Alan wasn't biting, ""You may have a point," he acknowledged with a grin, "But I'm not going to indulge in an ad hoc argument with you, I'm going to let the appeal court tackle that one!"

"You're just afraid of getting your butt kicked again!" Carolyn laughed.

Alan shrugged and smiled, "You might just be right there!"

Carolyn shook her head, "Come on, let's head to the galley and I'll buy you both a coffee."

"The coffee's free there!" Alan objected.

"I know," Carolyn replied smugly, "But it's the thought that counts!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Commander Saunders, reporting as ordered, sir!" Babs stood at attention in front of Admiral Chegwidden's desk and although she spoke confidently she couldn't help feeling a small, tight knot of apprehension in the pit of her stomach.

"Stand easy, Commander, at ease," the Admiral said affably, "and please, take a seat…" he indicated the pair of leather upholstered wing chairs that stood in front of his desk. He waited until Babs had seated herself and then leant forward slightly, peering at her over the top of his reading glasses, his elbows on the desk and his hands lightly clasped n top of the desk top blotter.

"Now… How would you feel if I offered you a permanent assignment here at JAG Headquarters?" he asked.

Babs' heart gave a little skip, "I… I beg your pardon, sir?" she replied. This was definitely the last thing she had expected to hear.

"Don't look so surprised, Commander," Chegwidden allowed himself a right grin. "You must have noticed that we are short-handed around here, and we will be for as long as the current policy of examining and reviewing every case here exists, every case that is that is tried in CONUS. Your work on the Lindsey court-martial was first rate, and what is just as important, you have meshed well with the existing team, and your allowing Lieutenant Pearson to work her passage shows that you are not afraid to make a decision. I will be quite frank with you, Commander, we need people like you here. Of course, if there are personal reasons why a move to the DC area would be a problem…?" Chegwidden let the question hang.

"Oh, no, sir! No there's nothing in that line holding me back, and I'd be a fool to turn down your offer – and my mom never wasted food on raising foolish children, but I'd need a couple of weeks to pack up, set my affairs on order, and then I'd need to find somewhere to live. Anacostia VOQ isn't particularly comfortable, and it's quite a hike each morning and evening to and from there to here, sir."

"So… you would accept? Given of course, a few weeks to settle your affairs out west?"

"I would be delighted sir. And, sir?"

"Yes, Commander?"

"Thank you, sir."

"No thanks are needed, Commander. You merit this this billet, you've deserved it, and…" his eyes twinkled, "You may find in the not too distant future that you'd rather be cursing me than thanking me! "

"Oh… no, I'm…"

"You're going to see Vukovic out behind bars where he belongs, and then I'll have your orders cut, and send you on a couple of weeks leave to get yourself squared away!"

"Thank you, sir! I'm…"

"You're dismissed, Commander!" Chegwidden chuckled as he interrupted her for the second time in less than a minute.

Babs sprang to her feet, fighting to keep a grin off her face, "Aye, aye, sir!" she said enthusiastically, about faced and strode to the door.

Chegwidden watched the bounce in her step as she went and as she closed the door behind her, he chuckled, leant back in the big chair and murmured, "Sometimes it's good to be the boss!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm and Mac walked into the galley while Carolyn, Alan and Loren were still drinking their coffees to be greeted with smiles and a slightly sardonic, "Have a good time?" from Carolyn.

"Good time?" Mac asked with an eloquently raised eyebrow, "I can't say that I did, but perhaps Harm enjoyed himself. After all he did get within smelling range of jet fuel, and got to gawk at his beloved jets, while I was stuck in the brig, with the most… arrogant, annoying, wilful, insubordinate son of a…"

"In other words, a normal day at the office, ma'am?" Loren asked with a knowing grin in Harm's direction.

"A normal day…?" Mac began, but then caught Loren's meaning, "Ah, yes, I suppose you could say that!" she laughed.

Harm shook his head dolefully, "Turned out to be another pick on me day, did it? Oh well, I can take it! But are we to assume that your trial of the gauntlet gang is finished, seeing that all three attorneys involved have time to stand around drinking coffee in the middle of the afternoon?"

"Yep! All done and dusted!" Carolyn confirmed, "Not that Alan isn't going to appeal the sentence!" she grinned at that office and then gave Harm and Mac a quick briefing on the sentence passed down by Judge Blakely.

Harm whistled through his teeth, for such a flagrant example of wilfully disobeying a regulation Blakely could have imposed dishonourable discharges and doubled the length of time to be spent in confinement, and he looked doubtfully at Alan Mattoni, "Are you sure you want to appeal? The sentences could have been a lot tougher."

"They could," Alan admitted, "but I don't think their crime was so bad that it warranted a BCD."

"Well, don't jump the gun. The sentence still has to be approved by the convening authority. I know, I know," Harm held up a hand in a stop gesture, "You're well aware of that, and no I didn't ever try to teach my grandmother to suck eggs!"

Loren, who had just taken a sip of coffee, was caught off-guard, and snorted and spluttered in a half-successful attempt not to spray the galley with coffee, almost collapsed with laughter. Wiping the tears from her eyes she said "God, no! I can just imagine Grams' reaction if you tried to tell her how to do anything!"

Harm grinned, his own eyes dancing with amusement at the picture Loren had just conjured up, "Lord, yes. I can almost feel that hickory switch!" he said ruefully.

Carolyn looked vaguely amused while Mac and Alan exchanged surprised glances at this further evidence of just how firmly Loren had integrated into the Rabb family, and Alan in particular privately thought how much he preferred this version of Loren over the earlier model.

All four were still grinning at Loren's words, even while she grabbed a dish cloth and started wiping down the worktop when a voice at the doorway interrupted them.

"I'm… uh… looking for Commander Rabb?"

Harm twisted around to look at that stranger, "That would be me," he admitted, taking in every scrap of the other's appearance.

"Good afternoon, then. My name is Rautsch, I'm from the IG's office. Is there somewhere private we can talk?"

Harm wore a surprised expression on his face while behind his back Loren exchanged a significant look with Carolyn while Alan looked baffled.

Harm, at least, made a swift recovery, and with a "Would you mind?" he handed his coffee cup to Carolyn and turning back to Rautsch said, "Yes, of course. My office is just a step away, if you'll follow me?"

Rautsch nodded and stepped back to allow Harm to precede him before following him to his office.

Harm nodded to the two chairs in front of his desk, "Take a seat," he offered as he closed the door and then turning slid into his own chair. "Now, how may I help you?" he asked.

"The IG's office is investigating certain allegations of misconduct on the part of Admiral Wyatt, Captain Ridgeley and Commanders Baxter and Lindsey. Our initial source of information was Admiral Chegwidden, who tells us that some sort of possibly nefarious connection between the subjects of the investigation was brought to his notice by Commander Saunders, who is apparently on TAD to this office. Commander Saunders in turn tells me that the information she received came from you."

"True." Harm agreed.

"And where did you come across this information, Commander?"

"Does it matter?" Harm hedged.

"I'm afraid it does, Commander. You see, Commander Baxter made several attempts – according to the transcript – to involve you in Commander Lindsey's court-martial, imputing to you discreditable motives for wanting to see Lindsey punished. Now you find evidence that suggests there might be some sort of improper relationship between Baxter, Lindsey and others, and because that source is you, it could be argued that you… ah… invented these connections as part of a vendetta against Lindsey and as some sort of revenge against Baxter. I believe there is long-standing ill-feeling between you?"

"I don't like the man, and I never have," Harm admitted, "but I find your suggestion that I manufactured evidence against him out of some sort of petty spite… well… frankly I find it damned insulting, Commander!"

Rautsch allowed himself a tight smile, "I'd be even more suspicious than I already am if you hadn't felt that way, Commander."

"That may be so, but there is no need for me to invent any inappropriate connections, it's all there in their SRBs for anyone to see. Anyone, that is who has the wit to join up the dots!"

"H'mm… But you can't deny that you took a keen interest in this trial, that you spent a considerable amount of time in the public gallery?"

"That's true, I did. But not out of any spite against Baxter or Lindsey. I had two reasons for my interest. I was the first person to become aware of Lindsey's behaviour when I was approached by one of his victims, then I discovered that two of the victims of his actions were known to me in a personal capacity, at which stage the Admiral severed me from the case, and my appearances in the public gallery were in order to offer moral support to those two witnesses."

"You had to be severed from the case, you didn't step down?" Rautsch asked in disapproving tones.

"Not quite that black and white, Commander. When I found out I had personal knowledge of the two witnesses I mentioned I took that knowledge straight to the Admiral. I wasn't given the opportunity to recuse myself. The Admiral made that decision for me on the spot!"

"Even so, despite being severed you still took it upon yourself to investigate two officers, towards both of whom you harboured ill-feelings? This is beginning to sound very much like a feud, Commander!"

Backed into a corner Harm could only fume helplessly, "As a matter of fact, I did not delve into the personnel files of the officers involved. The connection was spotted by a third party who brought the matter to my attention!"

"I see… and who brought the files to your attention?"

"I would rather not say." Harm replied firmly, "Can we just leave it that the anomalies were brought to my attention and I passed the on to the prosecuting attorney." Harm took a deep breath before he continued, "Look, it's obvious that the IG's office thinks there are some shenanigans that need to be looked into, and as a matter of some urgency, judging by the speed with which this case has floated to the top of the pile, so can we just leave it that my attention was drawn to the records of the officers involved, and once I had seen their SRBs I decided it was the right thing to do to draw official attention to those careers. After all, the IG's office acts on anonymous tips doesn't it?"

"We do, but that doesn't necessarily mean we like doing so, Commander. Your failure to co-operate fully on this point could leave the finger of suspicion pointed at you as having less than honourable motives in reporting what does appear to be a strange relationship between these four officers."

Harm gave a slight shrug, "Well, the finger may just have to point, won't it?" he asked in a challenging manner.

Rautsch got to his feet, "Commander, for what it is worth, I am on your side – that is if your side is the side of the angels – but I must advise you, this could well count against your future career."

"Was that a threat, Commander?" Harm demanded as he too rose to his feet.

"No… not a threat, just an observation."

"In that case it hardly matters," Harm did shrug this time, "I have long since accepted that I have so many dings on my record that I've already topped out. I have a couple of years left until my twenty, and then I guess I'll hit the up or out trap!"

Rautsch stopped with an arrested expression on his face, "I took the opportunity of looking through your SRB before I came over here this afternoon, Commander. Don't give up the ship too soon!" and then with a friendly nod which left Harm open-mouthed in surprise Rautsch opened the door and stepped out into the bullpen.


	99. Fostering Suspicion

**Mommy Dearest**

**Fostering Suspicion  
>Chapter 99<strong>

Jen had had enough. Putting down her fork, she looked across the table at her infuriating husband. "Okay, give. What particular bug is up your ass now?"

"Huh?" Harm looked up in mild surprise, "I'm sorry, what do you mean?"

"Do not try to hand me any of that BS, Mister!" Jen snapped, "You've been miles away ever since you walked through the front door…"

"You do realise that's an oxymoron, don't you?" Harm asked, "How can I be miles away when I walked in through the front door?"

"Don't do it, Mister," Jen said in an almost growl, "Don't try to deflect me on this. Just 'fess up and tell me what's bothering you!"

"Oh… it's just something that happened at the office today, nothing to worry about, I'll handle it…"

"No!" Jen fought to keep a grip on her temper, but she could feel control slipping away from her, "When will you ever learn? We are not doing this again!"

"Huh?" Harm said again, by now completely lost.

Jen took another deep breath, and Harm's appreciative eyes involuntarily dropped to where it looked like the buttons on her shirt (well, one of his shirts) looked as if they were about to lose their battle to stay attached to the material. However a sharp "Harm!" from Jen dragged his reluctant eyes back up to her face, and to prevent any further distractions, she sat back in her chair and defiantly crossed her arms in front of her.

"The last time you said you were handling things, we both lost about a week's sleep, and you became nearly impossible to live with!"

Harm looked uncomfortably guilty, he knew without her telling him, that Jen was talking about the aftermath of the Kozlovsky incident, over which he still felt guilty that he had nearly been too late to save the life of the woman sat opposite, the woman whom he loved above everything on the planet. Strange, he mused, it had all happened such a short time ago, yet now seemed to have occurred in the distant past.

However, his mental ramblings were jerked back to the here and now as Jen continued, "I'm surprised that if you took that attitude to work that you survived each day to make it home in the evening. Why Loren or Harriet didn't take a joint-stool to your skull I will never know!"

To Jen's surprise the tips of Harm's ears suddenly flared crimson, "Oh, my!" she gasped, "They did, didn't they? Someone called you on your mood!"

"Yeah… Uh… yeah… but it wasn't Loren or Harriet… but yeah, someone hauled me over the coals…"

"Mac!" Jen guessed, all of sudden uncertain whether to be pleased that Harm's friend had given him a reality check, or whether she should be jealous that it was Mac that had restored his normal, good sense.

Harm grinned somewhat shamefacedly and in an effort to lighten the mood he nodded, "Yeah, she accused me of acting like her with PMS!"

His ruse seemed to have worked as Jen let out a shout of laughter, but only for a few seconds, "Okay, that was funny, but this isn't, so come on, Harm, what's wrong?"

Harm gazed at her levelly over the table, and then it appeared that the tension oozed out of him as his shoulders relaxed, "Okay… but you're not to get mad, or… or anything, right?"

"I can't promise that until I know what's bugging you," Jen said in a reasonable tone, but there was more than just a hint of steel in her voice that made Harm realise that it was more than time that he came clean.

Pushing his chair back slightly from the table he said, "I had a visitor this afternoon, a Commander Rautsch from the IG's office…"

Now Jen was alarmed, "Harm! What have you done?"

"Nothing that's illegal, immoral or fattening," Harm defended himself.

"You must have done something for the IG's Office to come calling, and for it to have unsettled you like this!" Jen insisted.

"He was trying to track down the source of information that blew the Lindsey case wide open, and he thought I might have some answers."

"And do you? Did you?" Jen asked, feeling the first faint stirrings of disquiet.

"All I did was pass on to Babs Saunders the information about Lindsey, Vukovic, Admiral Wyatt and crew... Information that you gave me, I might add," he finished virtuously.

Jen's eyes narrowed even further, "If you were as innocent as you just tried to sound, why all the Sturm und Drang?" she demanded.

"Because..." Harm hesitated, he really didn't want to lie to Jen, but he desperately wanted to keep her name out of the case, which looked as if it was going to shovel truckloads of manure into a giant sized fan, "Because..." He hesitated again.

"Go on," Jen said in an uncompromising sort of voice.

"Because, he...uh... well, he wanted..."

"Get on with it! Fish or cut bait!" Jen snapped.

Harm looked across the table a long-suffering expression on his face, "Well, if you really need to know..."

"Oh, no! You are not pulling that classified crap on me! Besides I wouldn't believe it anyway!"

Harm shot Jen a look of acute dislike which rebounded harmlessly off her. "I'm waiting," she prompted him.

"Look, will you trust me if I say that it is actually something I'd rather you didn't know, and leave it at that?" he asked.

Jen stayed silent and stared accusingly across the table at her husband.

Harm gave a groan of exasperation, "No, I didn't think you would, but it was worth a try…"

"No, no it wasn't," Jen corrected him firmly.

Feeling as if he had been driven into a corner Harm, realised that there were only two options open to him. He could point-blank refuse to answer Jen's questions, but that he was certain would lead to the fight of the century, and there was no way that he was going to put their baby at risk by stressing her mother, which meant all he could do was come clean and try and put as positive a spin on matters as he was able.

"Rautsch wanted the name of the person who led me to the information that connected Wyatt, Lindsey, Vukovic and the rest of the gang," he finally admitted.

"And you played cagey, and didn't give him an answer," Jen said shrewdly.

"Well, not exactly… I said it was an anonymous tip-off, and he seemed happy enough with that. After all, the IG's department do have their anonymous hot-lines," Harm said disingenuously.

"Which you constantly complain about, curse them and routinely damn them, and their inventor and all his works, to the lowest depth of hell!" Jen pointed out in saccharine-sweet tones, and then demanded in a totally different voice, "Harm, what were you thinking!? Do you really believe this Rautsch guy is going to stay satisfied with a non-explanation like that?"

Harm looked across the table, spread his hands in a supplicating gesture and gave a helpless shrug, "What the hell was I supposed to do?" he demanded in an aggrieved voice, "I had to keep your name out of this whole squalid affair!"

"Why?" Jen countered. "Why not just tell him that it was me that told you?"

"Because your name has been brought up too many times already! You weren't in court when Baxter went after Loren, and…"

"What's Baxter going after Loren got to do with me?" Jen demanded.

"Because he confused you and Loren. He accused her of being Petty Officer Coates, who had changed not only her surname bur her forenames as well, and did his damnedest to insinuate that there was a charge of fraternisation that should be levied at both you and me!"

Jen paled at the thought. She was only too well aware of just how lucky they had been to get the Admiral's unofficial blessing to their relationship and also knew that without his waiver in both her and Harm's SRBs, they could still end up facing charges. After all, Navy Regulations were explicit in stating that a subsequent marriage does not excuse prior fraternisation.

"Oh…" she said worriedly.

"It's okay, I think, sweetheart, Admiral Morris is fully in the picture when it comes to us, and I don't think he'd let anything get by him that might put us at risk. And you should have heard him shut down Baxter as soon as he realised what that creep was trying to do!"

"But why? He doesn't even like you!" Jen exclaimed.

"True, but he does like you!"

"But he doesn't even know me!" Jen objected.

"Well enough to butt heads with the Admiral when you were re-assigned to the Pentagon," Harm grinned, "Seems that Admiral Morris wanted you for his Legalman!"

Jen blushed with pleasure at the implied compliment, but then she sighed regretfully and shook her head in a determined manner. "It would have been a major career boost, being selected for a Judge's Legalman so early in my career, but it wouldn't have worked. I'd still have been at Falls Church, and there would still have been the officer versus enlisted friction to overcome…" Then her eyes narrowed dangerously and her voice flattened, "Okay, that was a pretty good attempt at deflection, but it didn't work! When will you get it through your skull that I'm all grown-up, and I'm over twenty-one so legally I am allowed to make my own decisions?"

"I know that," Harm began, "but…"

"So why don't you act like it for once, instead of making my decisions for me?"

Harm gave a helplessly shamefaced grin, "I can't help it, sweetheart. Every instinct I have is to protect those I love. And you and your little passenger are the two people in the world whom I love the most…"

Jen's expression softened, "I know, I know. You thought you were acting for the best, but all it's done is to put you squarely in the Rautsch person's sights! Any comeback is going to fall squarely on you. What happens if he decides, for instance, that your refusal to disclose the source of your information falls under the heading of 'obstructing an IG investigation'?"

Harm let a grimace flit across his face, "I know, and to tell the truth, that's the thought that's ben concerning me…"

"So, if it worries you that much, why?"

"Because I'd far sooner worry about me than worry about you!" Harm declared. "And anyway," he continued, "from something Rautsch said on his way you, I have a feeling that he's prepared to be friendly, or at least not hostile…"

Jen shook her head slowly in resignation, "Oh, Harm, what am I going to do with you?"

Harm sent a calculating glance across the table, trying to gauge what Jen's reaction might possibly be, and then drawing a breath, he took the plunge, "You could always promise me that you won't try to talk to Rautsch until you've talked it over with me?" he suggested.

Jen fulminated and was on the point of telling Harm to go to hell, but then she realised just how subtle his request had been. She could hardly refuse to talk the subject through with him when she had just been raising Cain with him for doing the very same thing.

"Okay!" she snapped, "But sometimes Harmon Rabb, I really hate you!"

"That's okay too," he smiled, "As long as it keeps you safe – and that you love me most of the rest of the time!"

"Oh, Harm, you know I do!" Jen protested with a reluctant smile.

Harm smiled in satisfaction and then in a nonchalant voice added, "Besides, I'm not the only guilty party when it comes to concealing things that ought perhaps to be brought out into the open."

Jen glared suspiciously across the table, "And just what do you mean by that?" she bristled defensively.

"Morning sickness; ring any bells?" Harm grinned.

"I only kept quiet about that to stop you from worrying!" Jen protested.

"Exactly!" Harm grinned.

Jen's "Oooh!" of frustration might not have been heard on Capitol Hill.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

For some peculiar reason which he hadn't quite been able to fathom out Harm had the best night's sleep he'd had for weeks and was awakened – late – by a gentle kiss and opened his eyes to a bleary-eyed vision of a smiling Jen hovering over him.

"Hey, sleepy head, I can't recall you ever sleeping so soundly."

Harm rubbed the sleep from his eyes and grinned helplessly, "I guess I haven't had such a quiet mind for a good while… I mean, Lindsey's gone down, Baxter's… well, Baxter's just gone. We've made peace between ourselves and between us and the old folks. You're doing well…" He hitched around onto his elbow and reached out a hand to rest lightly on Jen's bump.

"That's easy for you to say!" she grumbled through her smile, "But I think I'm about to burst your bubble."

"Oh? How so?" Harm queried.

"Here, give me your hand!" Jen commanded, taking the aforementioned paw and placing it up her bare knee. "Now, slide it lower, lower, lower, and back up to the knee. Now, what do you feel?"

"Yeah, it's a bit raspy, you really need to sha…Oh! No! Jen! No, I can't! I mean…It's, it's…" Harm protested.

"Sorry, lover boy," Jen grinned not unsympathetically, "But it's got to be done before I get gigged for failing to comply with grooming standards, and as I can't reach that far down any more, it's up to you!"

"Aw, Jen!" Harm moaned suddenly sounding about six years old.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"There, doesn't that feel better?" Jen asked half an hour later as she guided Harm's hand up her now silky smooth leg.

"M'mm…" Harm smiled.

Harm kept smiling all the way through breakfast, smiled as Jen dropped a hurried kiss on his lips as she grabbed her purse and cover and bolted with a laughing exclamation of "Oh, my paws and whiskers!"

"My paws and your whiskers!" Harm yelled after her and was rewarded by a peal of laughter floating in through the front door as Jen made an undignified waddle towards her Sebring.

And Harm was still smiling when Loren tapped on the kitchen door to let him know that the babysitter had turned up and that she, Loren, was ready for another day at the office.

Loren looked quizzically across at Harm as she buckled her seat-belt, "You look uncommonly cheerful this morning. What's rung your bell so early in the day?"

"Shall we just say that the sun is shining, the birds are singing, God's in his heaven and all's well with the world!" Harm gloated as he slipped the Lexus' gears into drive.

"Okay… I could accept that if it wasn't pouring with rain and there's not a bird to be seen or heard… I have no opinion on your third circumstance, but if you say all's well, then I'll go along with you!" Loren laughingly rejoined.

"As to that, you seem to be in a pretty good mood too," Harm remarked as he turned right onto Arlington Boulevard.

"Yeah, I guess. The Lindsey trial is over, I got out of it with a nearly whole skin, I didn't get grilled too badly, and now the Admiral's got my back, and best of all Sasha ate a whole pot of pureed oatmeal for breakfast and contented herself with less than a minute of nursing!"

"So, she's weaning okay?"

Loren nodded, "And about time too. She's now got four little teeth coming through, and they're damned sharp!"

Harm winced in sympathy, "Ouch! That's got to smart!"

"You'd better believe it! You men don't realise just how lucky you are!" Loren muttered darkly, and then glowered as she realised Harm's smile hadn't abated one iota. In fact it looked as if it had grown in intensity.

But try as she might, Loren was in too good a mood to be able to keep up a pretence of anger and the rest of the drive to JAG passed in companionable silence.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The good start to the morning looked like it had set the pattern for the day. Harm left the morning staff call with only two new case files – both minor cases – tucked under his arm, and

He wasn't alone in his good fortune, Loren had gotten away with a single case of wilful disobedience and Carolyn was to sit second chair to Alan Mattoni on a case of drug dealing aboard the _William J Hines_, an Arleigh Burke Guided Missile Destroyer, and of course, as the attorneys had gathered in the galley to grab a cup of coffee each before heading to their desks, Babs Saunders had been bubbling over with enthusiasm at the prospect of her forthcoming PCS, the news of which the Admiral had broken at the end of staff call. She was almost overwhelmed by the congratulations and sincere expressions of pleasure on the part of her new colleagues. The one exception to the happy smiles was the frown on Harriet Sims' face.

"Is there something wrong with me being posted here permanently, Lieutenant?" Babs challenged her.

"Oh, no, ma'am!" The blonde Lieutenant's face cleared as if by magic, the frown instantly displaced by a beaming smile, "It's just that of you're here permanently, I'm going to have to try to find a better office for you than that old broom closet!"

The shout of laughter that went up brought a blush to Harriet's face, "Oh, it's alright for you all to laugh!" she protested, "But it's me that's got to solve the problem!"

Mac shot a questioning look at Harm, but as he hadn't the slightest clue as to what she might be thinking he gave a minute shrug of his shoulders.

Mac sent him a glance that he could read, one that meant 'You're not being much help here!' before she straightened from where she leaned against the counter, "Uh… Harriet… If Commander Saunders can stick it out where she is for the time being, you could always move her into my office once I'm gone."

Harm and Bud both held their breath in anticipation of Hurricane Harriet cutting loose, and by the way her not inconsiderable bosom swelled it looked as if they had read the situation aright. Fortunately the deep breath Harriet had drawn gave her an invaluable couple of seconds to contemplate the consequences of an outburst, and instead she managed a game smile, "Of course, ma'am. Thank you for your suggestion."

"That's okay, Harriet," Mac said placatingly, "I'm sure it would have come to you in a couple of seconds."

"Just so, ma'am," Harriet said civilly enough, but with an icy edge to her voice that had both Mac and Harm wincing inwardly, and brought confused expressions to the faces of the other attorneys. "Now, if you'll excuse me, ladies, gentlemen…" Harriet put her half-finished mug of coffee in the draining board and whisked out of the galley.

"What was that all about?" Loren asked Harm a few minutes later as they skirted the edge of the bull pen on their way back to their offices.

"What the Harriet thing with Mac?" Harm asked and receiving a confirmatory nod from Loren gave her a potted version of Mac's failing to tell her best friend about her application for PCS and the blonde admin officer's reaction to the news when the move was confirmed.

Loren shook her head as she paused at her office door. "Somebody ought to bang both their heads together! Mac's for being so thoughtless and Harriet for being so immature about the whole thing!"

"I agree," Harm nodded, but then grinned and added, "But don't tell anyone – especially Mac or Harriet that I said so!"

"And if I do?" Loren teased.

"Oh, in that case…" Harm started singing just under his breath and only just loud enough for his tormentor to hear, "Loren and David sitting in a tree…"

Loren blushed crimson and stared at him aghast, "You… you wouldn't… would you?"

"Try me!" Harm challenged her.

Loren had now had a second to think, and her answer was as cool as her smile, "I might just. After all, after the picnic, there can't be many people here at JAG who could be in much doubt as to the situation!"

"Darn! I was hoping you'd overlook that!" Harm pouted.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, "I nearly did!" Loren declared with a smile, "So, see you later… sir!"

"Yeah, I'll catch up with you at lunch! In the meantime, I do have work to do!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm, probably due to his feeling at peace with the world, made an appreciable dent on the stack of files in his in-tray and by eleven thirty hours he was feeling pretty satisfied with his day and looking forward to, and just for a change, a relaxed lunch – that is unless Harriet was still at war with Mac. Although the situation was slightly troubling, he couldn't help a swift smile as he contemplated the unusual, almost unique, sight of Mac feeling for once as if she was in the wrong. Especially he mused, as this time, she hadn't really done anything wrong.

His amused thoughts were interrupted by the shrill imperative of his phone and with a sigh, he shelved those amusing thoughts and picked up the receiver.

"Rabb," he announced in a pleasantly non-committal tone.

"Rabb, good morning… well, if it is a good morning, I think I'm about to spoil it for you, and if it is not a good morning, then I'm pretty sure I'm about to make it a worse one!"

Harm frowned, the voice was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place it, "With whom am I speaking?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Commander. This is Captain Preece at Oceana."

"Oh… yes, sir. Good morning."

"I doubt it." Preece said heavily, "I've just had a signal from COMNAVAIRLANT, I couldn't believe my eyes when I read it, and I even and called the originator to authenticate it. It's real enough I'm afraid. The convening authority has decided not to press charges against Lieutenant Foster and will allow him to resign without any loss of future benefits."

"What!?" Harm gasped, forgetting for a moment that he was speaking with a Captain, "Has he fulfilled his commitment? He can't have… he's too young to have completed ten…"

"He is," Preece agreed, "by my reckoning he's got another three to go to top out his ten years. I tell you Rabb, there's something damned odd about this whole affair. When I spoke to Admiral Sheridan at Navy Air, I could tell he wasn't thrilled about the whole thing either, but he wouldn't or couldn't come clean, so I figure that whatever's going on is above my pay-grade, so I'll just salute the flag and say 'aye aye, sir!' and if you've got any sense, you'll do the same. I tell you Rabb, I suspect that there's some very deep and very murky waters out there!"

Harm blinked, but it all suddenly began to make sense. There was no way that Foster would have pulled such a stupid stunt in public if he hadn't been certain that someone, someone well up the food chain, was covering his six. Harm thought hard for long moments, the telephone in his hand temporarily forgotten until he was jerked back to the here and now by Preece's sharp "Rabb? Rabb? Are you still there?"

"Uh… yes, sir! Sorry… I was just mentally turning over some possible ramifications and reasons as to what's going on. Whoever is involved certainly knows what strings to pull…"

"They certainly do. Rabb, if you've got any sense, heed my advice and let it drop, If whoever is behind this can get Foster off, practically scot-free then I guess they're more than capable of ditching both my career and yours! As far as I'm concerned, I don't want to hear anything more about this case and the sooner that man is off my base and I can dump the whole thing in the file and forget closet, the happier I'll be. And so should you!"

Harm, unseen by Preece, nodded. He had enough on his plate with the IG's office poking around, he certainly didn't want to draw any more untoward attention to himself, or to Jen for that matter, "That's good advice, sir. I'll take it!" he answered Preece's suggestion.

"Good man. Rabb. Once all this fuss has died down, give me a call, and I'll see if I can't get you a ride from time to time!"

"I will sir, and thank you, both for the call, and for that last offer – if it wasn't a bribe!" he risked the joke, remembering the humour in the other man's eyes.

"Bribe! Bribe! Of course it was a damned bribe!" Preece laughed. "Give me a call, and don't leave it too long!"!

"I won't, sir," Harm promised.

"Good. See you on the flight line sometime!"

"Aye. Aye, sir!

Harm put the phone down and sat back deep in thought for a few minutes until he gave a deep sigh and levered himself to his feet. A glance at his watch confirmed it was almost lunch time, so grabbing his cover he figured he could profitably spend the next few minutes discussing with Mac the latest surprise in the Foster case before he headed for his lunchtime meet up with Loren. Crossing the twenty or so feet to Mac's office, he tapped on the doorjamb and when the Marine looked up he grinned, "Hi, got a couple of minutes?"

Mac exhaled a puff of air that stirred the bangs hanging down to her eyebrows, a style that Harm had always thought made women look low-browed and mentally under par, but he had learned long ago to keep that particular thought securely locked away.

"Yeah, come on in, sailor, and tell me what's on your mind," she smiled.

Harm sauntered into the office but made Mac's eyebrows rise as he turned and closed the door in a marked departure from his normal style.

"This looks serious," Mac observed, "You'd best take a seat and tell me all about it."

"Yeah, thanks. That the Foster case you're poring over?" Harm nodded at the open file on Mac's desk.

Mac shook her head, "Nope, that's the Lannigan case… the persistently UA seaman, the Foster case is… "Mac looked around at the haphazard stacks of files that masqueraded as her filing system, "On top of the third stack from the left end of the credenza!" she finished triumphantly.

"I take it you haven't heard from Oceana today? No… don't bother with it," Harm interrupted Mac as she stretched her arm out for the file.

"No, nothing from Oceana, why?"

Harm gritted his teeth, "I've just had Captain Preece on the line… NAVAIRLANT has dropped all charges against Foster, and are allowing him to resign – before he's completed his commitment to the Navy."

Mac's jaw nearly hit the desk, "But… but… how… I mean, why? The man's a danger to himself and anyone else in the air… why, even his RIO asked to be assigned to another pilot… He needs to be punished for what he did! I'll go speak with Admiral…"

"Mac, Mac, power down"! You were supposed to be defending him, remember?" Harm was forced to fight back a grin, which the Marine in her present state of mind definitely would not have appreciated.

Mac shut her mouth with a snap that Harm could almost hear and squared her shoulders, glaring at Harm as if daring him to say something as she fulminated silently for a long few seconds. Then the tension seemed to leak out of her and her shoulders relaxed. She gave a not entirely convincing laugh. "You're right of course, I would have been defending him. So, let's look on the bright side. This is one case that we won't have to worry about. But it's very odd…"

"Yeah, Preece was definitely unhappy and he told me that he thought the convening authority was unhappy too, almost as if COMNAVAIRLANT was getting pressure from someone higher up the food chain…"

"That would have to be the CNO or SecNav…" Mac mused.

"It's possible, but there's also COMNAVLANT, but no, I don't think this is military… I've got a feeling that there are a politician or two mixed up in this… Maybe the SecNav or even SecDef…"

Mac shook her head, "No… I don't see it… This has underhanded written all over it… I suspect that if we were to take a look at Langley, or Homeland or even NSA…"

Harm gave a bitter laugh, "Well if you're talking underhand, then Webb is the first candidate that springs to mind… that is if he hadn't had his leg shot off…"

"Supposedly," Mac reminded him. "Remember nobody's seen him since that night of that FUBAR!"

"H'mm… good point!" Harm rejoindered as he climbed to his feet. "Somehow that realisation has made me feel a lot better. So I suppose I'm a bad person!"

'No, no you're not!' Mac thought to herself, 'Although I tried hard for a while to believe you were!' Instead she smiled, and asked, "So… what now?"

"Now, I'm going to have lunch with my sister. You?"

"Sister?" Mac asked, taken by surprise, and then she caught on, "Oh, Lieutenant Sing… uh… I mean Rabb, I mean Loren!"

Harm's smile was now the genuine article, "Thanks for making the effort Mac, I know you still don't like her! But you haven't answered my question. What are you doing for lunch?" He paused, "You, uh… could always join us?" he suggested diffidently.

Mac shook her head, "No, no thanks. But thanks for the invitation, I've got to try to mend fences with Harriet – and Bud!"

Harm grimaced, "Ouch! Good luck with that. Harriet didn't seem to be in a very forgiving mood this morning!"

"I know, I know," Mac agreed sadly as she stood and reached for her cover, "So… let's get it over with!"

**xxxxx-xxxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen and Angela also made a reasonable lunch and the two women made their slow way back from the commissary to the SecNav's suite of offices, Angela adjusting her usual brisk stride to accommodate Jen's deliberate waddle, both women almost in giggles as they caught sight of their reflections in the various doors and windows they passed. "Talk about Laurel and Hardy!" Jen grinned and then as she saw Angela purse her lips she urgently said, "Don't! You can't whistle your way to work in the Pentagon!"

"Oops! You're right!" Angela agreed, "I wasn't thinking for a moment!" but then a devilish grin crossed her face and just loud enough for Jen to hear she started humming 'The Cuckoo Waltz' in time to Jen's stately progress down the hallway.

It was with difficulty that Jen stopped herself from laughing out loud, contenting herself with a warning, "If you make me wet myself before we get to the rest room, I'll make you wash my things!"

So it was with both of them on the verge of laughter that they reached the sanctuary of their office, but when they opened the door all vestiges of humour fled as the tall Commander who had propped a hip on the corner of Jen's desk stood up and asked, "Legalman One Rabb?"

Jen shot a nervous glance at Angela, "That would be me, sir."

"Good," the strange officer smiled, "I'm Commander Rautsch from the IG's Office, and I'd like to have a little chat with you, if you don't mind."


	100. An Inspector Calls

**Mommy Dearest**

**An Inspector Calls  
>Chapter 100<strong>

Jen sent a stricken look at Angela, who had a shocked expression on her face, before she turned back to Rautsch and said, "Certainly, sir. If you don't mind waiting a while. I'll answer any questions you might have, provided my husband is here, so I'll just give him a call..."

"Ah… that won't be possible, Legalman One, it's about your husband that I wish to speak." Rautsch replied.

"In that case, sir, I have nothing to say to you." Jen said coolly.

Ignoring Angela's gasp of surprise Rautsch merely looked levelly at Jen, "And why is that?" he asked. "You do realise, that refusing to speak with me could be construed as refusing to co-operate with an IG investigation?"

"I do sir." Jen replied, but then with a nod towards Rautsch's arm she added, "I see you wear the mill-rinde, sir, so I'm going to assume that you've been to law school and passed the bar exam, as well as attending NJS."

"All true," Rautsch agreed gravely, but finding to his surprise that he found this encounter enjoyably amusing.

"Then, sir, you will have heard of spousal privilege. So what makes you think that if a court cannot compel my testimony against my husband, that you'll be able to force me to make a statement against him?"

Rautsch blinked the woman had a point, but he had become so accustomed to interviewees being overcome by facing an officer from the IG's office, that the thought that his veiled threat might be met by a legal counter hadn't occurred to him. However, as he wasn't intending for this to be, or to become, a hostile interview, he held up his hands in a placating gesture, "Easy there please, Legalman One. I'm looking for a reason to exclude Commander Rabb from this investigation."

"That's easy to say – sir!" Jen replied sharply, "But I'd still prefer to have my husband present…"

"Jen!" Angela broke in, "Remember how she was with me, about Commander Saunders? You could ask Commander Manetti to sit in, she'd look after you!"

Jen turned her head to look thoughtfully at her friend, "You may be right… by your leave, sir," she nodded to Rautsch and reached past him to pick up the phone.

Rautsch turned to Angela, his eyes quickly taking in her rate and rating, "Commander Manetti? Who is she?" he demanded.

"Our CO," Angela replied indicating Jen and herself, "and she's also a JAG."

Rautsch permitted himself a brief smile, "Well, this is the SecNav's legal office, so I suppose I should have expected that!" He grinned again and turned to Jen, who had taken her seat and was just replacing the phone on its cradle.

"Well?" he asked.

"Commander Manetti will be here shortly. She presents you with her compliments and asks that you wait quietly until she gets here."

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Skates stared in disbelief at Jack, "You did what?" she demanded, remembering just in time not to yell and to keep her voice down to a fierce whisper. The crowded lunchtime commissary was not the place to have a public argument.

"Cool your jets and think about it for a minute, please?" Jack asked, his voice equally low-pitched. He took a breath and reached his hand out across the table so that his and Skates' fingertip just made contact, "We aren't having much success in seeing each other off duty now we're on separate watches. Either you're on watch, or I am, or one of us is just about to go on watch as the other comes off and then when we're both off watch at the same time, it's odds-on that one is asleep. So by applying for a PCS to Pax River, Aviation Systems, I end up working an eight to five day, five days a week. I'll only be an hour away, and the best part is that we won't be in the same chain of command."

It was on the tip of Skates' tongue to give Jack a verbal flaying that would have left him whimpering in the cold of her displeasure, but what he said actually made sense – for the most part. But that didn't excuse him from not talking things through with her before he submitted his application, and besides, "Aviation Systems? Jack, that's test pilot stuff, new, unproved technology, new unproved airplanes. What makes you think you'll be accepted? And, Jack, that's a damned dangerous job. What if…?"

"Beth, sweetheart," Jack answered in a cajoling voice, "Of course I'm not certain that I'll be accepted, but I do have thousands of hours on different birds, and as for the danger… well… the people down there are pretty well aware of the risks involved. I mean it's not like the Wright brothers, taking a huge step into the unknown. Safety precautions are pretty tight and they don't put anything into the air without it being thoroughly ground tested first! C'mon, Beth, admit it, when was the last time you heard of an in-air mishap at Pax River, huh?"

"Oh! Okay, okay! I haven't heard of any mishaps for longer than I can remember, but that doesn't mean there haven't been any!" Beth scowled and took a sip of her mineral water, "And it doesn't mean that you are anywhere near being off the hook for not talking about this before you put in your application!"

"Is that what this is all about, Beth?" Jack asked in some surprise as he began to realise what had really put Skates' nose out of joint.

"Yes! Dammit Jack," Beth snapped and then seeing that her raised voice was beginning to attract unwanted attention from the other diners, she lowered her voice to mutter through clenched teeth, "We're supposed to be a couple!" Beth hissed.

Jack looked around in alarm, "Ssh! We're are a couple, but according to regs we are not supposed to be! And we don't want anyone carrying more tales up the chain of command!"

"Nice try at deflection," Beth growled, "And yes, you're right, but that wasn't the context to which I was referring! And what's more you know that!"

She regarded Jack's too innocent expression with a jaundiced look and continued, "What I meant was that as a couple, we ought to be taking these sort of decisions jointly, not have you suddenly tearing off in all directions on your own!"

"But it's a good idea, though, isn't it?" Jack said defensively.

"Yes, yes, I suppose it is," Beth conceded, "But…"

"Well, if it's a good idea, what's the problem?" Jack asked ingenuously.

Beth stared at him helplessly for long moments, then she shook her head and barely repressed a giggle, "Jack Keeter, there are times when you are absolutely impossible!"

Jack took a shrewd glance from under his brows at Beth and noticed the twitching of her lips, but even so he knew he was figuratively taking his life into hands when he grinned and replied, "Oh, it's good to know that all my efforts haven't been wasted!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Tracy Manetti cleared her desk by the simple expedient of locking her three filing trays away in her desk drawers before she stood and checked her uniform prior to leaving her office for the outer office where Jen and Angela had their desks.

Jen sat at her desk looking pale but determined while Angel stood protectively behind her, one hand in a supportive gesture on her friend's shoulder and both of them looking, somewhat apprehensively at the tall Commander with the mill-rindes on his sleeves.

Tracy shot Jen a quick, reassuring look and then turned her attention to the stranger, "Good afternoon, Commander. In what way can the SecNav's office be of assistance?"

"Good afternoon… My name is Rautsch and I'm here on IG business, but it seems your Legalman here won't speak with me unless she has legal representation Commander…?"

"Manetti, Tracy Manetti," Tracy replied n her light Virginia drawl, "And as for not wanting to speak with the IG's office without some sort of guidance, why, I do believe that Legalman One Rabb is merely being prudent." She paused, as if to judge what effect her words might have had, before she inclined her head, "So shall we adjourn to my office? LN One?"

"Aye, aye, ma'am," Jen replied, hauling herself to her feet.

Rautsch stood back to allow the two women to precede him into Tracy's inner office, where until she had settled Jen into a chair she completely ignored her visitor, until at last seating herself behind her desk she looked up at him and said brightly, "Why, Commander, there's no need for you-all to stand on ceremony with us, won't you please be seated?"

Rautsch hid a grin, he was completely unfazed by Tracy's words and actions, recognising them for what they were, a ploy designed to set him on the back foot, but he was too experienced an investigator for that trick to work on him.

"Now that you've finished playing games, yes, I rather think I will," he replied, suiting his actions to his words and then kept Tracy and Jen waiting while he delved into his attaché case and produced a legal pad and pen, before closing the case and placing it across his knees, looking up as he did so, letting Tracy see just enough amusement in his face to let her know that he was on to her little game and had replied in kind.

"Ah… fifteen each, I believe…" Tracy murmured with a smile.

"Just so," Rautsch agreed with a dip of his head.

The interplay between the two officers was lost on Jen as she had been too busy thinking and worrying about what she might be asked to concern herself with analysing or even following any extraneous conversation. But she was brought back to the here and now when Rautsch cleared his throat and said, "As far as I'm aware, neither you, Legalman One, nor your husband, Commander Rabb, are in any sort of trouble with the IG's office. We are fully aware of the somewhat unorthodox nature of your marriage, also that it took place under cover of a waiver issued by the Judge Advocate General of the Navy, Rear Admiral Chegwidden. So you may put your mind at rest on that account."

Jen raised her head and to Tracy Manetti it seemed almost as if hot brown fire flashed from Jen's eyes. "I have never had any qualms about our marriage. Not the way it happened, and most certainly not to whom I am married; you may put your mind to rest on that account, Commander!"

Tracy muttered a swift caution, "Easy Rabb, easy," but to her and Jen's surprise Rautsch gave a swift grin.

"I had a feeling your response would be something along those lines, but I did need to say what I did. Now, are you at all familiar with the Lindsey court-martial?"

Jen blinked, "Of course I am, it was the talk of the entire Navy community in DC, especially in the legal community. After all, he was a JAG, and until his arrest he worked as part of the SecNav's legal team, just down the hallway from this office,"

"Yes, but that's not quite what I meant. So let me be a little more explicit, did you as the spouse of a Navy JAG learn anything more, from your husband, than was known to the Navy community in general?"

Jen gave a determined shake of her head, "No, my husband never discusses his cases with me. He would never breach client confidentiality. That was one of the reasons for my change of assignment once we were married. In addition to the normal bar on spouses serving together, there was the added complication that the marriage crossed the enlisted/commissioned bar, plus the nature of our duties made it even more imperative that we should work separately. It is our normal practice that once we are home, the office door is shut and stays shut until we turn to the next day."

"So, your husband doesn't discusses work with you at all, not even when he has to go out of town or is deployed on board ship. Surely you must be curious about what he does when he is away from you."

Jen gave another shake of her head, "No, he tells me just as much as I need to know, where he's going, if he can, how long he expects to be away, and that's about all. He might mention that his investigation is a flight mishap, or that there is suspected illegal drugs on board or on a naval base somewhere, but that's about it…"

Rautsch nodded, his years of litigation followed by his experience as an IG investigator had allowed him to develop a sense of when he was being lied to, and that sense was picking up no hint of falsehood from Jen. Even so, he still needed to ask further questions.

"In that case, I suppose that the names Pearson, Vukovic, Wyatt and Ridgely don't mean anything to you?"

For the life of her, Jen could not resist a slight twitch as Rautsch recited the litany of names. The IG officer immediately picked up on that tiny tell-tale, "Legalman One, while Lieutenant Pearson's name might be generally known to anyone taking even a superficial interest in the Lindsey court-martial, the other names have not yet been made public. If your husband doesn't discuss cases with you, how come you reacted to those names?"

Jen blushed, until she heard the name Pearson she had completely forgotten about being present when Harm had fielded that first phone call from the young lieutenant at home. The almost panic stricken glance at Tracy Manetti turned back to Rautsch, "You probably won't believe this, but way back right at the start, my husband received a phone call from Lieutenant Pearson while we were at home. I was in the room, our living room, propped up in a nest of pillows on the couch," Jen smoothed her hand over her bump, "You may have seen it takes a bit of an effort at the moment for me to get up from an office chair, it takes a lot more effort and a lot longer for me to haul myself out of the depths of our couch at home, so I was there for that initial conversation, although I only heard one half of it. I don't know what Lieutenant Pearson said, but I do know that it annoyed my husband."

Rautsch nodded, made a note on his legal pad and then looked up at Jen again, "A bit unusual, isn't it? Witnesses calling their attorney at home in the evening."

Jen looked across the man again, "Not when the caller is so flustered that she forgets the time difference between Falls Church, Virginia and Pearl Harbor, Hawaii!"

Rautsch nodded and made another note, "Yes, I was forgetting about that… But, it seems to me that you reacted to the other names too?"

Jen nodded unhappily, "Yes, sir. I became aware of those other names during the course of court-martial and they came up too many times in too much profusion, and all too interconnected, for it to be coincidence."

Rautsch sat back and although he still wore an affable half-smile his eyes became slightly narrowed as he said, "Do tell."

Jen nodded, "It all started when I was doing a routine check on personnel records, I noticed that in addition to his wife, Commander Lindsey had a second nominated emergency contact, a Mrs Eleanor Vukovic. I knew that a Lieutenant Vukovic was somehow involved in the case against Commander Lindsey, so I alerted my husband that there was a possible link between the two men, especially as it transpired that Vukovic also became involved in the attempted murder of Commander Turner, my husband's friend from their days at the Academy."

"I thought you said your husband didn't discusses cases with you, yet you seem remarkably cognisant of the minutiae of this particular case?"

"That's because it wasn't my husband's case, I'm not quite sure whether he recused himself, or he was severed from the case, but after that I suppose we discussed the case much as any other married couple would discuss something that interested them."

"And this case interested you because?"

"Well, the fact that while I had only met the defendant, a woman who is as close to me as a sister and another friend, Yeoman Two Hartman – the other girl in the outer office – were both on the witness list, another witness, the Lieutenant with the Italian name, who first reported Commander Lindsey's extracurricular activities, reported them to my husband. So yes, we were interested, you might even say we had a proprietary interest."

"I see, but having, because of your duties discovered the connection between Lindsey and his nephew, what made you go back into those personnel files?"

Jen shifted uncomfortably and sent a silent appeal for help to Tracy Manetti, who rose to the occasion, "As your legal representative Legalman One, I'm advising you not to answer that question. Commander Rautsch, is it really necessary to know why Legalman One Rabb delved into those files?"

"It would help," Rautsch replied, "You see it won't do for there to be any appearance of personal spite. Even though I'm given to understand there was a fair amount of that not quite so excellent quality being displayed in the courtroom, and perhaps especially as that was the case, we can't allow any hint of suspicion that personal revenge was involved."

Jen nodded she could see where it was important that the proceedings should be free of personal bias. "I heard, not from my husband, that the defence attorney made several attempts to bring my marriage into the spotlight of the trial, and it seemed to me that he went couple of steps further than his duties as defence counsel strictly required. Then I saw Captain Ridgely's name, and Admiral Wyatt's name in connection with Commander Baxter's assignments and his most recent promotion, and I recalled that I've seen those same two names in Commander Lindsey's SRB…"

Rautsch nodded again and made yet another note, "And so you brought that connection or rather those connections to the attention of Commander Saunders?"

Jen shook her head, "Not directly, no, sir. I asked my husband's advice and he said that he would tell trial counsel of my findings."

"So, you had no real business in reading Commander Baxter's SRB, did you?" Rautsch demanded

Jen was at a momentary loss for words, Tracy Manetti flashing a smile at her Legalman stepped into the breach, "it's not quite that simple, Commander. Legalman One Rabb is a court appointed notary, and as such is an officer of the court, a minor officer granted, but an officer of the court nonetheless, and as such she has a duty, legally enforceable, to bring to the court's attention anything that is pertinent to case that is either pending or in progress. If Legalman One Rabb felt that Commander Baxter's demeanour and behaviour in court was such that he needed to be investigated, then she did the right thing."

Rautsch nodded, "As it happens, I agree. I can see absolutely no reason the IG's office to take any action against Legalman One Rabb or Commander Rabb."

Jen gasped, "We're not in trouble, Sir?"

"Not a bit!" Rautsch grinned.

Jen nodded, too relieved to say anything more for the moment.

Rautsch eyed her quizzically for a few seconds before the grin widened and he said, "Well, if you don't need me for anything else Legalman One, I'll be on my way. Commander, it's been a pleasure," he added to Tracy as he stood and gathered up his attaché case and cover.

"Oh, if you don't mind, Sir, there is just one thing…" Jen faltered.

"Oh? And what might that be?" Rautsch asked in surprise.

"I'm pretty sure that my husband didn't mention my name when you spoke with him, so what led you to me?"

Rautsch's grin widened, "Computerised telephone systems are a godsend to investigators!"

Tracy smile vanished on the instant, "are you saying that you retrieved Legalman One Rabb's personal phone records?"

It was Rautsch's turn to shake his head, "Didn't need to; just checked Commander Rabb's incoming calls to his office. Twice, shortly before the revelations that blew the case wide-open, he received a phone call from this office. Once we realised that his wife was assigned here it was not even as difficult as adding two plus two!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"He what?" Harm exclaimed angrily.

"Power down, Harm. He was very polite, I had Commander Manetti sit in with us, so she was covering my six. He wasn't intrusive… in fact he came right out and told me that the IG's office were aware of our marriage, and weren't interested in it, at all. All he really wanted was to know how I made the connection between Lindsey, Vukovic and the others."

Harm scowled as he slipped his uniform shirt off and tossed it onto the bed where Jen sat watching him. Although she sounded cheerfully confident and carefree she was concerned that Harm, his protective instincts going into overdrive would try to contact Rautsch and let him know exactly what he, Harm, thought of the other's behaviour.

Harm's face still wore an expression of displeasure as his head emerged from the T-shirt he had pulled on, "I ought to get hold of Rautsch and give him a…"

"You'll do no such thing, Harmon Rabb!" Jen interjected. She took a deep, calming breath, "Look, it seemed to me that the guy, if he wasn't exactly on our side, was at least neutrally friendly, and there's no point in going after him and alienating him. From what he said, we've heard the last of the IG's office – well in this case, anyway – so let's just leave things lie where they've fallen, okay?"

Harm looked mutinous for a few moments, but then his shoulders slumped as he relaxed and the tension oozed out of him, "Okay… but if he comes back, you call me, you hear?"

"I hear," Jen agreed solemnly, and then her face split in a grin of pure mischief, "And to hear is to obey, O Master," she intoned in a docile voice,

Harm stopped tugging on his belt and glared at her, but her grin was too infectious for him to resist, "Yeah, right," he drawled, his own reluctant grin appearing on his face.

"Good, that's settled, then!" Jen smiled, "Now… what are we doing for dinner tonight?"

"Ah… yes, we are dining out this evening!" Harm declared with an air of finality.

"Out?" Jen repeated in dismay. "Harm I told you a long time ago, I haven't got anything presentable that still fits me!"

"Oh, that doesn't matter, I'm pretty sure that Loren isn't going to turn us away just because we're not dressed up to the nines!" Harm grinned as he thought 'Gotcha!'

"Loren? You mean we're eating at Loren's? Ooh!"

Much, much later, snug under the comforter and with Jen's head resting in the hollow of his shoulder, Harm murmured, "You know, you are getting far too good at handling me…"

"M'mm…" Jen replied sleepily, "but I need all the advantages I can get…"

Harm chuckled, "G'night sweetheart."

"M'mm… 'night…"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Commander Rabb, how are you and the Colonel getting on with the barn storming F-14 jockey?"

"Uh… we're not, sir," Harm confessed.

"How come?" the Admiral growled threateningly.

"Could we discuss this after Staff Call, sir?" Harm suggested with an anguished glance at Mac, looking for her support, which she offered with an emphatic nod of her head.

"And why should we do that, Commander? Staff Call is where we discuss cases! Unless this case impacts on national security?" The Admiral added with barely disguised sarcasm.

Mac's "Actually, sir, I have a feeling it might…" was drowned out by Harm's rejoinder.

"Sir, there no longer is a case!"

"Speak plainly, Mister Rabb!" Chegwidden commanded.

"There is no case, sir. The convening authority has decided not to charge Lieutenant Foster with anything!"

"What?!" Admiral Chegwidden's eyebrows shot up towards where his hairline had at one time been. "What do you mean, the convening authority dropped all charges?"

"It wasn't my idea, nor the Colonel's…" Harm offered defensively, "In fact sir, we didn't know anything about it until yesterday, when I got a phone call from the CO at Oceana."

"And you didn't think, perhaps, to come directly to me and tell me what was going on?" Chegwidden demanded menacingly.

Harm had the grace to look sheepish, "Well, sir, Colonel MacKenzie was all for rushing in and alerting you. But I… I… I, ah… I persuaded her otherwise…"

"And why was that?" Chegwidden wanted to know.

"Well, sir…" Harm shot an apologetic look at Mac, "She was as all-fired ticked at the situation as I was, and I had to remind her that she was the defence attorney in this case, and that far from being pissed… uh… upset, she should be turning cartwheels across the bull pen…"

"I'd have paid to see that!" Loren muttered in an undertone to Babs Saunders, sat next to her.

Unfortunately she didn't speak quite quietly enough and received a matching duo of angry and astonished glares from both Mac and the Admiral. Mac' glare was silent, but seemed to promise retribution, but the Admiral growled through gritted teeth, "You are not helping, Lieutenant!"

Loren blushed and managed a mumbled, "No, sir. Sorry, sir," before lapsing into sheepish silence, her eyes now firmly fixed on the blotter in front of her.

Chegwidden pinned her with another glare before turning his ire back towards Harm. "So… having dissuaded the Colonel from bringing this entirely unsatisfactory state of affairs to my attention, why did you, Mister Rabb, not take that self-same step? After all, you were supposed to be the prosecuting attorney, were you not?"

"Yes, sir, but… it seemed to me that there was something more than just a little bit strange going on, and I intended doing a little digging before I informed you of the circumstances and any theories I might have come up with, together with any evidence I had uncovered."

"And what changed your mind?" Chegwidden snapped, "Why now the sudden urge to disclose this at Staff Call?"

"Uh… with respect, sir, you did," Harm pointed out. "I asked if we could discuss the matter after Staff Call, and…"

"Yes, yes! Alright Mister Rabb, you've made your point! Very well, see me after Staff Call!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

A J Chegwidden watched the door close behind Harm and Mac as they left his office and after waiting for a few seconds he gave vent to a snort of disgust and reached for his phone, and then opening the locked drawer of his desk, he brought out his very private phone book and leafed through the pages until he found the number he wanted. Carefully checking back with the entry in the book he dialled the number and waited.

"_Hello_?" the voice on the other end of the line held more than just a hint of caution.

"Hello Binky, this is A J Chegwidden."

Rear Admiral (Upper Half) Philip H Sheridan groaned silently. Not many people had access to this private phone number, and only a few of his very closest friends knew his much loathed nickname, and even fewer knew how he came by it. Unfortunately Albert Jethro Chegwidden was one of the latter, select group. "_How may I help you, A J?"_ he asked, although he had a gut feeling in light of recent as to just why a man he hadn't spoken to in just over a twelve-month would suddenly be calling him, especially given that man's official position.

"You could start by telling me just what the hell you're playing at?" Chegwidden suggested.

"_Playing at_?" Sheridan repeated.

"Yeah, playing at. How come you're not throwing that idiot jet jockey to the lions? Didn't you see the CAG's video?"

Sheridan sighed heavily, "_Of course I saw the God dammed video, A J, and given my druthers that lunatic would be spending the next twenty years behind bars, but my hands are tied_."

"What do you mean, 'my hands are tied'?" A J mimicked his long-time friend.

"_Just what I said. The word came down to let Foster slide, and to expedite his early resignation from the service with nary a blot on his record_."

"Where did that word come from?" A J persisted.

"I can't tell you that, A J," Sheridan said reproachfully.

"_Can't or won't_?" A J asked shrewdly.

"_Can't. This is TS compartmentalised and strictly need to know. And A J, you most definitely do not have that need_."

"Goddammit! Secret-squirrel shit! I should known!" A J growled in disgust.

"_I can neither confirm nor deny that_," Sheridan said in a non-committal voice.

"The hell you can't!" Chegwidden snapped.

"_No, A J, I can't tell you that. But I can tell you this: I'm going to have to report this conversation…_"

"You are kidding me!" A J replied in astonishment.

"_'Fraid not, A J, standard protocol when anybody raises this case with me…_"

"Goddammit!" Chegwidden snapped again and without saying more he slammed his phone down.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm held the commissary door open to allow Loren, Babs and Jo Pearson to precede him into the hallway, listening as Babs explained what was happening.

"So… On Monday, Jo and I are headed out to Lincoln, Nebraska with a copy of the tape…" Babs paused to give Jo a sympathetic smile, "Sorry, Jo, the Lincoln PD are adamant they need to see it… and then hopefully things will start to roll. I've already spoken to an attorney in Lincoln, a friend of a friend from law school – I'm not licensed to practice in Nebraska," she explained in an aside to Harm and Loren, "So if there's any subpoena's to be issued, or motions to be made to the court, then he'll do it for us."

"You really think there's a chance you'll get whoever…" Loren trailed off and shot an apologetic grimace at Jo.

"Yes, I think so," Babs answered as the quartet of officers entered the elevator to take them back up to the Ops floor, "There's no statute of limitations on rape, and whatever criminally stupid acts frat boys get up to, once they're out of college, they like to present themselves as upright Republican voting citizens and I reckon we can use the college's alumni development list as a key to find this track star of Jo's and then I'm pretty sure he won't want a charge of being an accessory after the fact levelled at him…"

Whatever might have been going to be said remained unspoken as the elevator doors whooshed open leaving the four officers staring in astonishment at a figure seated in a wheelchair bound. Neatly dressed, at least from the waist up, the chair's occupant had a deep blue blanket covering the lower half of his body and falling to the chair's footrest.

After one startled glance at the man's face, Harm's eyes dropped to that blue blanket which showed the outline of what looked like one normal leg, but with other truncated at mid-thigh.

"What's the matter, Rabb? Haven't you seen anyone on a wheelchair before?" Clayton Webb snapped peevishly.

"Yeah," Harm replied icily, "I have, but I was just thinking how lucky you are."

"Lucky?" Webb yelped in surprise, "Lucky?"

"Yeah, lucky. Your incompetence put my entire family at risk, and if you hadn't been crippled by Kozlovsky and his gang, I would have taken you apart, slowly, bit by bit, with my bare hands!"

"Brave words, Rabb," Webb sneered, "But don't let my incapacity put you off. Now, if you don't mind, I have this sudden overwhelming to get out of here and back to sanity!"

Harm gestured for the women to quit the elevator, and for a moment debated the idea of riding it back down to the ground floor with Webb. But after a second or two while he stared steadily at Webb he shrugged his shoulders and stepped aside.

"All yours Webb, and Webb…" he waited until the former? CIA agent twisted his head to look back at him. "Don't hurry back!"

The doors slid shut, but not before Harm had a chance to see and interpret the malevolent stare that Webb shot at him. Harm shook his head and turned away to see three pairs of blue eyes regarding him curiously.

"That was a bit harsh, wasn't it?" Babs asked, surprised at the venom she'd heard in Harm's voice.

"No, it wasn't!" Harm and Loren chorused in answer to Babs' question

"I wonder what he wanted." Loren said, as she returned her gaze to the closed elevator doors.

"I have no idea, but I'm sure it won't be long before we find out!" Harm stated with conviction.


	101. No Good End

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 101  
>No Good Ending<strong>

Harm was a far better prophet than he knew, scarcely had he opened the door to allow Babs, Loren and Jo to precede him when the JAG's irritated bellow rang out across the bull pen, bringing a momentary cessation of work as heads were raised from computer screens, files and legal pads, "Rabb! Find Colonel MacKenzie and then the both of you report to me!"

A startled Harm could only reply, "Aye, aye, sir!" and handing off his cover to Loren he said quickly, "look after this, please, while I go look for…"

"No need!" Mac said from behind him. "What have we – or you done – to get his goat this time?"

"I have no idea!" Harm replied, "But I do know the quickest way to find out! Come on, let's go," he added grimly.

"On your six, sailor!" Mac agreed as they started across the bull pen.

As they entered Tiner's ante-office the Yeoman rose to his feet, "You're to go straight on in, sir, ma'am," he advised them. Harm turned to rap on the Admiral's door frame but Mac hung back for a second.

"Any idea what all the fuss is about, Tiner?"

"Not really, ma'am. But Mister Webb was in…"

He was interrupted by the Admiral's yell bidding his visitors to enter and then by Harm's urgent hiss of "Mac!"

With a nod to Tiner, Mac turned and marched through the door that Harm held open for her, before he fell in a pace to her left rear and closed the door again. Admiral Chegwidden watched the pair approach and even through their stony expressions he thought he saw a tinge of apprehension. They came to a halt precisely one pace in front of the wide expanse of his desk.

"Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie and Commander Rabb, reporting as ordered, sir!" Mac snapped out.

"Stand easy, at ease!" Chegwidden snapped as he rubbed both of his hands backwards over his naked scalp, "And don't look so worried, this is a briefing not a reprimand! Although a good reason why it shouldn't be the latter escapes me at the moment!" He drew a breath before he continued, "During lunch I was paid a visit by Mister Webb 'of the State Department'," he snorted in grim amusement, and his words brought wry grins to his auditors' faces as all three briefly considered the transparency of Webb's over-used euphemism for the CIA, but the Admiral hadn't finished speaking, "Who told me in no uncertain terms that this office was to cease and desist into making any inquiries into the status of the former Lieutenant Foster – yes, his discharge from the Navy has already been expedited – and that any and all reference to him be expunged from our records. Goddamned man! If he hadn't been confined to a wheelchair I'd have re-arranged his nose for him – again! As it is…"

He sat back and with a less ferocious scowl on his face continued, "However, from what Webb told me – what he said he was allowed to tell me – Foster's activities are now shrouded in secrecy; Top Secret, compartmentalised secrecy and that not only does JAG not have a need to know what those activities are, nobody in this organisation has a high enough security clearance to be told, even if they did have the need to know. What he did tell me was that although the low-flying stunt was real enough, it was done according a plan concocted by… by… well… he didn't say by whom, but I get the feeling that you two are beginning to get the picture?"

Mac and Harm exchanged a look which combined chagrin with disgust before they faced front again.

"Yes, sir. I think we're beginning to understand… But sir, it stinks!" Harm objected.

"It does indeed. My concern is that other, perhaps disgruntled pilots, perhaps just reckless pilots will get to hear of Foster's stunt…"

"Oh, they will sir, the aviation community's scuttlebutt will take care of that! They may not get a full, accurate account but the bones of the matter will definitely be laid bare!"

Chegwidden shot Harm a look of sufficient intensity to cause him to revert to silence instead of continuing what was shaping up to be a rant.

Chegwidden glared, grunted and then rasped, "Just so, and my concern is that having heard about Foster's damn-fool activities and seeing him get off scot-free, other pilots might attempt the same sort of barn storming antics and end up giving the Navy a PA headache of gigantic proportions by smashing an F-14 into a building or a crowded venue somewhere!"

"Crowded, sir?" Mac asked.

"Yes, crowded! There's not much point in stunting over the middle of the Atlantic, where there's no-one to appreciate the skill and derring-do involved, is there, Colonel?" Chegwidden demanded sarcastically.

"No, sir," a slightly abashed Mac replied quietly.

Chegwidden pinched the bridge of his nose and briefly squeezed his eyes shut, "Well, if it happens, then it happens and we'll have to deal with the results. In the meantime, go, incinerate or shred any papers with Foster's name on them, or indeed anything that refers even obliquely to the case and then make sure that any files on your computers that contain the same sort of information are expunged. In the meantime let us hope that there aren't any more stupid jet-jockeys out there! Dismissed!"

Both junior officers drew themselves up into a brace and with instinctive timing replied in chorus, "Aye, aye, sir!" and then paused before about-facing and heading for the door.

Harm lifted an eyebrow in silent surprise as he released that Mac was trailing him as he headed straight back to his office, entering on his heels. Harm dropped into his swivel chair and asked, "There was something else, Mac?"

The Marine nodded and propped a hip on the corner of Harm's desk, folded her arms across her chest and idly swung one foot to and fro.

"M'mm… what do you suppose that was all about?" she asked with backward jerk of her head in the direction of the Admiral's office.

"Seems pretty clear to me." Harm answered, although he raised his eyebrows at Mac's casual appropriation of his office space. "Foster – the poor jerk – has got himself tangled up on one of Webb's crackpot schemes, which is apparently so highly classified that we are not only supposed not to know about, but we are also supposed to forget that Foster never existed and his reckless flying never happened!"

"Yeah, but that's not what I meant. Why did the Admiral rant and rave at us as if it was our fault?" Mac persisted.

"He didn't… not really…" Harm said and then as it looked as if Mac was about to object he said urgently, "Think about it! Yeah, he yelled for us to report to him, and yeah, he wasn't exactly in the best of moods, but he didn't tear us each a new one, and in fact made it clear that we weren't been reprimanded. I figure that at the beginning we just caught the edge of the overflow of his frustration with and anger at Webb. He couldn't exactly haul Webb out of his chair and break his nose for him again, although I've a pretty good idea that was what he would have liked to have done, so he was frustrated and we got to him before he'd had a chance to cool off!"

Mac pursed her lips thoughtfully, "Okay…" she reluctantly agreed, "I can see where that might be the case. But what are we going to do?"

"Do? About the Admiral? There's nothing we can do, and nothing has happened that tells me we need to 'do' anything. On the other hand, about Foster? Well, I don't know about you, but I'm going to be a good little sailor, and do as I'm told. I'm going to shred the file and expunge all trace of Foster from my computer – I might even get one of the ITs to come and wipe that section of my drive!"

Mac looked at Harm in astonishment, "I didn't think you'd fold so easily!" she commented.

"I'm folding 'so easily' as you put it because I don't want another six weeks of scut work cluttering up my desk, and I don't want any further visits to me, or to Jen, from the IG's Office, the ONI, or any other one of the alphabet soup agencies in DC!"

Mac frowned, "The IG's office? You and Jen? What was that all about?"

Harm bit his lip in annoyance, he had no wish for that story to get about, "Oh, nothing much, they were just interested in us because of Baxter trying to drag our marriage into the Lindsey case, and then the connection between Baxter, Lindsey, Vukovic and the rest of them. It was no big deal, but I'd rather not have Jen stressed out any more than she has been already!"

Mac nodded, "Yeah, I can understand that… but I'm not so sure about eliminating all traces of Foster… I have a bad, bad feeling about this."

Harm shook his head, "Mac, what part of 'incinerate or shred any papers with Foster's name on them… and then make sure that any files on your computers that contain the same sort of information are expunged'?"

"Oh I understand it all, Ham. I'm just not convinced it's the right thing to do!"

"And I suppose you'll want me to defend you when the Admiral charges you with DDO?" Harm asked ironically.

"Oh… it won't come to that!"! Mac said confidently as she slid off the corner of his desk, "But I suppose I'd better leave you to get on with being a good little sailor!" She grinned in an effort to take any sort of criticism from her remarks.

"Well, this one time when I had far rather be a good little sailor than a big bad Marine!" Harm shot back at her unsmilingly.

Mac just shook her head, gave a short snort of laughter and strolled out of the door aiming for her own office a score of feet along the wall. Harm watched her go, twirling his pen idly between his fingers as he considered what she had said, and what he had already privately decided to do. Opening his desk drawer he took out a brand new CD and breaking the seal he unwrapped it and inserted it into the disk drive.

"Now," he murmured softly to himself, as he brought the Foster case up on screen, "let's see if I can remember how to burn a file to disk…"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm grinned to himself as he brought the tray out of the kitchen and into the lounge, Jen had, encouraged by his urging, headed straight for the couch from the table, leaving Harm to cope with the squaring away of the kitchen and the brewing of the tea. In the ten minutes or so he had taken to finish his tasks Jen had dropped onto the couch and wriggled into a comfortable position in her nest of pillows, in fact, his grin became wider, she had gotten so comfortable, that she had dropped off into a gentle slumber, her head back against the couch's squabs and her mouth slightly open.

"Oh yeah," Harm breathed softly, "Revenge is sweet!" and noiselessly placing the tray on the coffee table he retreated to the office where he rummaged Jen's desk drawer for her digital camera. "Gotcha!" he murmured in triumph and stealthily made his way back to the lounge.

Standing in the lounge doorway he checked the camera settings and was just about to raise it to eye level, when the peace and quiet was disturbed.

"Jen? Harm?"

Harm hastily pressed the shutter as Jen's eyes shot open.

"Wha? Who said that?" she muttered in confusion and then as her senses awoke, she took in the image of her very guilty-looking husband standing in the doorway, with _her_ camera in his hand. Realisation flashed through her mind and with something very much like a growl she said, "If you… Harm, give that camera to me!"

"Nuh-huh," he grinned. "I need to check it out first!"

"Harmon Rabb," Jen started to yell but then broke off as Loren appeared in the door leading to the kitchen.

"Oh… is this a bad time? I can come back…"

"No, it's all right Loren come on in!" Harm invited her.

"Yes, come on in!" Jen agreed, and then as she spotted the porta-crib, "Especially as you've got my favourite niece with you! But you," she turned her eyes back towards Harm, "aren't out of the woods yet, buster!"

"Yeah, yeah, bring it on!" Harm scoffed and turning to Loren he said, "Come on in and sit down, I was just about to pour the tea, I'll get you a cup!"

Loren sat in one of the armchairs and bending forward unbuckled Sasha from her seat and with a slight grunt of effort lifted her daughter up onto her knee.

"Oh, give her here!" Jen begged as Harm returned from the kitchen with a third mug, "I haven't had a chance to cuddle with her for ages!"

Loren looked pointedly at Jen's stomach, "Are you sure? She's getting pretty heavy," she answered doubtfully.

"Let her try, Loren. I learned the best way to make Jen realise that she can't do everything she wants any more, is to let her try." Harm intervened with a broad wink to Jen on Loren's blind side.

"Well, okay…" Loren answered reluctantly, but stood up and crossed to the couch where she carefully lowered Sasha in to Jennifer's waiting arms.

"Hey, precious," Jen crooned as Sasha looked up at her with her deep blue eyes, her face wreathing into a smile as she recognised the face looming over her. Jen smiled back, but spared a meaningful glance at Harm as he eased himself into the couch next to her, "But as for you mister…"

Loren by now had caught the teasing tone and shook her head gently, "Will you two ever grow up? What's he done now, Jen?"

"Grow up? Doubtful; grow old definitely," Harm replied and then added in protest, "Why do you automatically assume that it's me who's the guilty party?"

Jen and Loren shared a look and then turned their full battery on Harm, "Because you usually are!" Loren affirmed, and then turned back to Jen, "So what did he do?"

"He was so slow in clearing up the kitchen that I nodded off waiting for him to bring the tea in, and then when you woke me, he was on the point of taking a photo of me! In fact, I'm not so sure that he didn't succeed right at the last second!"

"H'mm…" Loren considered for a moment or two and then looked thoughtfully at Harm, "Did you get a shot?"

"I'm not sure… you interrupted us just as I was about to press the shutter…" Harm looked down at the camera still in his hand and activated the preview screen and then a huge grin broke across his face. "Uh… Yeah… I… wow! Better than…"

"Give me that!" Jen demanded as Harm tilted the camera so that Loren could share the view.

Loren burst into giggles, "Oh, that is so good!"

"You traitor!" Jen tried to be indignant but the laughter of the other two was too much for her and her face broke into a grin and then making an attempt to recover her dignity she smiled down at Sasha, "Your mommy and Uncle Harm are being nasty to your Aunty Jen!" she complained, but all she received in the way of commiseration was a beaming smile that exposed four tiny shining white teeth.

"Are we being nasty?" Loren asked innocently.

"Well, you must be the judge of your own actions," Harm told her with a grin, "As for me, I'm just getting payback for that picture of me and Sasha – the one that you…" he fixed Loren with an accusing stare, "stuck on the galley fridge door!"

"Touché!" Loren laughed and then looked across at Jen, "Seems like it's true what they say…"

"I know, I know," Jen sighed as she nodded in agreement, "Payback's a bitch!" she finished pathetically as both Harm and Loren dissolved into laughter.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"So…" Loren asked mischievously as she buckled herself into the front passenger seat of the Lexus the next morning, "Did Jen manage to wipe that shot off the camera's card while you were asleep?"

Harm chuckled and shook his head, "That was never going to happen. Jen's asleep the moment her head the pillow these days…"

"Oh yeah," Loren agreed fervently, "I remember how that was!"

"And secondly, because she's up so often during the night, I've gotten attuned to it, so when she gets out of bed, I wake up. And besides, I hid the card!"

"Sneaky!" Loren said with approval.

"Don't enjoy her predicament too much," Harm warned her with a sideways glance as he waited for an opportunity to turn right onto Arlington Boulevard, "I haven't forgotten your part on that photographic episode!"

"My part?" Loren asked in wide-eyed innocence.

"Yeah, your part," Harm replied with heavy irony, "Or did you think that I thought that picture somehow magically made its own way onto the fridge door?"

"Oh…" Loren said and for a moment looked decidedly crestfallen before she cast a decidedly nervous look at Harm. "What do you…?"

"That's for me to know, and for you to find out… eventually. After all the Spaniards have a saying, that revenge is a dish best eaten cold!" Then he chuckled as the look Loren sent him was openly worried.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Fortunately for Loren she had no time to brood while waiting for the other shoe to drop. As far as she was concerned, Staff Call had been an unmitigated disaster. She was almost sure that she had caught a look of complicity between the Admiral and Harm as the former had slid a two inch thick file across the table towards her with a look of, or so it seemed to her, unholy glee on his face.

"Sedgwick versus the US Navy…" he'd said and Loren groaned inwardly while others around the table had winced in sympathy with her. The Sedgwick tort had been running for about two and a half years, centred upon what Operations Specialist Petty Officer First Class Joanna Sedgwick alleged was a breach of promise and an act of bad faith by the Navy. Sedgwick had, in her own time, put together a piece of electronics equipment, and had written the software for it that enabled a radar operator to see not just the echo of the target on-screen, but also, on a secondary screen, its silhouette. Such an application had been in use for years in the detection of surface crafty, but Sedgwick had written the software and tuned the electronics so that the same result could be seen while tracking aircraft, up to and including fast jets.

Sedgwick had submitted her ideas and a working prototype through the appropriate channels in what she claimed was the realistic expectation of receiving a cash award under the provisions of OPNAVINST 1650.8D only to find that despite her CO's assurances that such an award would most certainly be forthcoming only to find that Department of Naval Research under the authority SECNAVINST 5870.3C had claimed that the 'Government may obtain the entire right, title and interest to an invention made by its employee' – this case OS1 Sedgwick.

The case had dragged on intermittently for two years, being frequently adjourned for research into precedence and resolution of conflicting regulations as well as Sedgwick's two deployments, each of six months' duration. Sedgwick was about to return to the States at the end of her second deployment and had given notice of her intention to continue her battle with the Navy.

Loren's dismay was occasioned by the knowledge that she was in for many hours of reading through the case file, familiarising herself with what had been decided earlier and in making notes to press Sedgwick's claim against an attorney appointed to defend the Navy by the Navy's General Counsel.

The one bright spot in her morning so far had been when, on her way back to her office from Staff Call, she'd detoured via the galley to brew herself a fresh coffee. She had been approached by Bud Roberts who said sympathetically, "That's a really rough deal. I had it the last time it surfaced, and I still have my personal notes… If you think they might be of any help, then you're welcome to them."

Loren had whimpered silently to herself. More reading was just what she did not want nor need, but she managed a half-smile and a muttered, "Thank you." 'After all,' she reflected, 'Bud _was_ trying to help.'

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

It was nearly lunchtime when the phone on A J Chegwidden's desk rang, "Yes, Tiner?"

"_Director Morrow, NCIS on line two for you, sir_," Tiner's disembodied voice sounded tinnily in his ear.

"Alright Tiner, put him through…"

There were a couple of clicks and then a slight buzz before Tom Morrow's voice came through the earpiece, "_A J_?"

"Yes, Tom?"

"_I've just had a report from one of my Major Case Teams…_"

A J listened intently to the NCIS Director's words and at the end he sighed and asked, "There's no room for mistake? No possibility of misidentification?"

"_No… identification has been confirmed by fingerprints. You'll understand that in these cases facial…_"

"Yes, yes!" A J snapped impatiently, interrupting the other man, "You don't need to draw a picture…"

"_A J…_" the other man sounded reproachful.

"Oh… I'm sorry Tom…. It's just that I knew him, personally, and…"

"_Yeah, I understand. But I'm giving you a heads up on this because of JAG's role... not that I'm accusing anyone in your department, but the SecNav's going to be on the warpath over this._"

"Understood, Tom. Thanks for the advisory."

"_No problem, just the one thing though, A J_…"

"Go on,"

"_For the moment, this is strictly need to know_."

"Understood, but I have people who do need to know!"

"_Again, that is understood; A J, I trust your discretion absolutely_."

"That's small comfort, Tom."

A J could almost see the shrug at the other end of the line, "_It's all I can offer for the moment_."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks."

Chegwidden replaced the phone on the hook and reached out for the intercom, "Tiner!"

"_Yes, sir_?"

"Pass the word for Commanders Saunders and Rabb to report to me ASAP!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Commanders Rabb and Saunders reporting as ordered, sir!"

Chegwidden looked across the desk at his two subordinates, his face set in grim lines. He studied each of their faces in turn, leaning forward, his hands clasped in front of him and his arms resting on the desk. Eventually after what seemed like an age but was no more than a minute he nodded, and his face not relaxing its expression, he ordered, "Stand easy, at ease!"

The two officers assumed the position of Parade Rest, Harm at least feeling a degree of unease as he saw the uncompromising expression on his CO's face.

"What I am about to tell you is to go no further than these four walls! Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir!" the pair chorused.

"That is, for the time being," the Admiral amended, "You will know when this restriction is lifted!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Good! If that is clearly understood," A J continues in an expressionless voice, "then I have to tell you that at nine hundred hours this morning, Vice Admiral Wyatt, the head of BUPERS was interviewed in his office by an investigator from the IG's Office, after which he departed his office and returned home. At approximately ten forty hours, his wife heard a noise coming from his from his study. She found Vice Admiral Wyatt dead at his desk. He had apparently used an antique Remington revolver from his gun collection to shoot himself in the head."

Harm managed to restrain himself, but Babs let her startled gasp reveal the extent of her feelings.

A J gave the two a jaundiced look. "Just so!" he commented, "But I ordered you in here to not only to give you advance warning before the story hits the headlines, as it undoubtedly will, but also to make it clear to you that you are not to blame yourselves for Admiral Wyatt's actions. He chose to contravene not only Navy regulations, but also to betray the standard of behaviour expected of a Navy officer, especially one of his exalted rank. He also chose to take the coward's way out instead of facing up to the consequences of his actions. He has, by this… gesture…" A J made a face of disgust, "left his wife and family totally dependent on any savings they might have. They will of course receive no GI insurance nor death benefits. So to all intents and purposes, his widow could very easily find herself destitute. However, that is not your fault, and it is not your problem. It is that family's problem and the fault lies entirely with Admiral Wyatt! Now, is that understood?"

Harm and Babs exchanged a fleeting sideways glance, "Yes, sir!" they responded again in chorus.

"Good! Now, are there any questions?" A J asked.

"Not a question, sir… But I need to tell Jen… I need to tell my wife before the story breaks, sir…" Harm said unhappily.

A J looked taken aback for a moment but recovered swiftly, "Oh, yes, yes, of course you must! I hadn't taken that into consideration," Chegwidden admitted.

Harm stood slack jawed for a second or two; that had sounded very much like an apology from the JAG, but he gave himself a mental shake, the older man was talking again.

"Well, when you do tell her, do it gently. I'm sure I don't have to remind you that sudden shocks at this stage of her pregnancy are best avoided!"!

"Uh… yes, sir… I mean, no, sir. No sudden shocks, sir!" Harm stammered.

"Good!" A J surveyed the pair for a few more seconds and then waved a casual hand, "That is all, people. You may return to your duties!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Despite the Admiral's injunction, Harm found it difficult not to hold himself, to some extent, to blame for Admiral Wyatt's death. True, he hadn't encouraged, or even known of Admiral Wyatt's shady dealings, and it certainly hadn't been his hand on the weapon that the Admiral had used on himself, but even so, if only he hadn't told Babs…

'Snap out of it Rabb!' he lectured himself, 'If I wouldn't have told Babs, then I would have been derelict in my duty, and there was no way I could have figured that Wyatt would kill himself."

Even so, he continued to brood throughout the afternoon and was still feeling decidedly at odds with himself when a frustrated Loren appeared at his office door at seventeen hundred hours and inquired whether or not he intended securing at any time in the near future.

"I'm sorry, Loren," Harm replied surging to his feet with a wan smile, "I was forgetting you need to get home and take Sasha back from the baby-sitter! Come on, I'll try to shave a couple of minutes off the journey!"

Loren would normally have noticed that Harm was far from his usual lively self on the drive home, but she was too frustrated and exasperated by the Sedgwick case. She had spent all day reading just the first fraction of the file, and already she had filled two sheets of legal pad with remarks and questions that needed answers, which she would only find through more reading in the Jag legal library. So the journey was completed in near silence, only one or two odd comments breaking the quiet.

As was becoming usual, Jen had gotten home before them, her Sebring parked on the driveway in front of the garage, and Harm seeing it stood there asked Loren if she wanted to come in for a cup of tea, and received only a shake of her head and a preoccupied, "Huh? Oh, no, no thanks!" from the blonde as she started out on the path that ran along the front of the house.

Harm watched her open the gate at the end of the house and with a resigned shrug of his shoulders, turned his key in the front door lock and let himself in. He hated what he was about to do, and typical of him, he decided to take the bull by the horns. So hanging his cover on the tree next to the door, he dropped his briefcase onto the hall table and unbuttoning his uniform jacket he walked straight into the living room, to find Jen, already in a pair of jogging bottoms and a smock popped up in her next of pillows on the couch, a full loaded tray on the table in front of her and a gently steaming mug cupped in her hands.

"Hey, sailor," Jen smiled up at him as he crossed towards her, but her smile of welcome was already fading by the time he dropped a gentle kiss on her forehead and eased himself onto the couch next to her.

Jen put down her mug and searched Harm's face with worried eyes. "What wrong, sweetheart?" she demanded.

For a long moment Harm stared at his dangling hands as he sat leant forward, his elbows resting on his knees, before he straightened up, and taking Jen's hands in his he said, "I've got some unwelcome news. I've got to tell you, but I also need to tell you that none of what I am about to say, is that you cannot, under any circumstances, take even the smallest fraction of blame, not even an iota, on yourself!"

"Now, you're starting to frighten me!" Jen protested although she tried to smile and make it sound as if she was joking.

"Nothing to be scared of," Harm reassured her and took a deep breath, "Jen, this afternoon the Admiral called Babs and I into his office where he informed us that this morning, Admiral Wyatt was interviewed by the IG's office and that subsequent to that interview the Admiral returned home and went into his study, where he committed suicide…"

Jen's eyes flooded with tears, "Oh that poor woman…" she choked.

"Woman?" Harm asked, confused.

"Yes, his wife, his widow… What is she going to do, how will she cope?" Jen asked in dismay.

"I don't know, sweetheart, I really don't know," Harm answered as he gathered her into his arms, as much for his comfort as for hers.


	102. Fighting Fire With Fire

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 102  
>Fighting Fire with Fire<strong>

The last three weeks had been a change down in gear. A fact for which Harm was heartily thankful. Well he was now; the first few days after Admiral Wyatt's death had been pretty tense at home. Despite all his logical arguments as to why Jen should feel no guilt over the wayward senior officer's death, she had brooded over what she saw as her part in the whole sordid affair, and for two days had hardly acknowledged Harm when he spoke to her, had turned her back to him in bed, and Harm was sure on at least one occasion that he heard her crying softly into her pillow. On that occasion he had put his hand gently on her shoulder and softly said, "Jen?"

"Leave me alone!" Jen had said in a tight little voice which Harm immediately recognised was due to her throat being blocked by tears.

"Hey, come on sweetheart…" he tried again.

"I said leave me alone – damn it!" Jen rasped out and shifted further away from Harm, almost as far as the bed would allow, and at the same time, emphatically pulling the covers up over her shoulder.

Not wishing to provoke Jen's temper – always uncertain when she was upset about anything, and especially now in the later stages of her pregnancy – Harm let out a silent sigh, which went some way to relieving his feelings and rolled over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling until he detected the slow, soft sounds of breathing that told him that Jen had finally drifted off to sleep. Only then did he close his eyes and follow her example, but even as he slept a frown of concern was etched onto his forehead.

Matters had been no better in the morning. As usual – thanks in part to the baby pressing on her bladder – Jen was up and in the shower before Harm awoke and by the time he had showered and shaved she was fully dressed apart from her uniform jacket and was sat at her dresser savagely – or so it seemed to Harm – twisting her hair into its usual French braid.

To his offer of breakfast Jen merely shook her head and having swallowed her mug of tea grabbed her cover and purse and with a mere "I'm going to work," and without either offering a kiss or waiting for Harm to offer one, she left the house, slamming both the front door and her car door as she got into it.

Harm heaved a worried sigh and cleared the breakfast table, piling his plate and both mugs into the sink before giving them a hasty rinse and then leaving them to dry. His ears pricked up at the sound of a car pulling into the driveway and for a moment or two he thought, or perhaps hoped, that Jen had come back home to try to mend fences, but he soon realised, with a sense of let-down that the arrival was only Sasha's baby-sitter. And that meant he could expect Loren's arrival any minute now.

Loren had read Harm's mood within seconds of settling herself in the Lexus' front passenger seat and with a cautious glance in his direction she gently asked, "Do you want to talk about whatever's bothering your?"

Harm's curt "No!" was sufficient to tell her that once again he was bottling up his feelings. She knew it was his normal, if unhealthy, reaction to adverse circumstances and that he would be better off letting out some of the angst he was feeling, but she also knew that persisting in attempts to get him to open up would only frustrate and anger him even more.

Settling back against the seat she resolved to endure the silent drive into Falls Church, and hope that engaging with the day's business would get Harm to relax slightly.

Loren's hopes were dashed. The moment Harm got into his office he closed the door and shut the blinds, signalling to the entire world that he most definitely did not want to be disturbed. And only two people in JAG were brave enough to risk ignoring those signals, Rear Admiral Chegwidden and Yeoman Petty Officer First Class Tiner – and the latter only because he had the Admiral's authority behind him.

Loren however gained no peace and quiet for the first half of the morning. It seemed that no sooner had she got stuck into the Sedgwick file than first Mac, then Carolyn, then Babs Saunders and then Alan Mattoni all appeared at her door demanding whether or not she knew what particular hair had got stuck in Harm's six.

Finally she'd had enough and fixing Alan Mattoni with an arctic glare she said slowly through clenched teeth, "No, sir. I do not know what Commander Rabb's problem is, and I can only suggest, with the greatest respect, sir, that if you are so anxious to find out what, if anything, is wrong, that you ask the Commander himself… sir!"

Alan gave a weak grin, "Okay… I'm not that curious… besides, I really don't want Harm chewing me a new six, so thank you for your suggestion, Lieutenant, but I don't think I will disturb him.

That did it. Loren's temper flared. With exaggerated patience she stood and walked around her desk, advancing upon the suddenly nervous senior officer, and as she approached him she gritted out, "So… satisfying your curiosity isn't worth disturbing Commander Rabb, but it is sufficient to disturb me? When the whole of JAG knows I have been landed with the most complex tort case in the entirety of JAG history! Sir!"

She had continued to advance on Alan Mattoni as she spoke and reflexively he had taken a couple of steps backwards to preserve his personal space. Which is just what Loren had wanted. By stepping back, Alan had cleared the doorway, allowing Loren to slam it in his face without it hitting him. Glaring at him through the glass panel of the door for a few seconds she deliberately reached out to the pull cord and gave it a savage yank, causing her own office blinds to slam shut.

"H'mph! Perhaps now I can get some peace and quiet and finally get some work done!" Loren gritted out as she returned to her chair.

An almost dazed Alan Mattoni shook his head and made his slow way back to his office. Loren Rabb, he mused silently, had changed a lot since she had become a mother, but the old Lieutenant Witch was still there, just buried deeper and he, it seemed, had had the misfortune to dig just deep enough on this occasion.

Harriet Sims, sitting at her computer bit her bottom and turned to Jo Pearson, who together with Babs Saunders was waiting for transport to Dulles Airport, "Oh dear, that doesn't look so good! It looks like they've been fighting!" she exclaimed indicating both shuttered offices, "Maybe I should go and see if I can't calm one or both of them down, sooth some ruffled feathers, perhaps…"

Carolyn Imes looked up from the photocopier where she was waiting for six extra copies of a brief and shook her head, "I shouldn't if I were you, Lieutenant. Commander Mattoni looks shell shocked, and his rank probably caused Loren to hold back a bit. Somehow I don't think you would get off quite so lightly!"

Harriet gave Carolyn's words some thought and eventually, her expression troubled, she sighed and reluctantly nodded her head in agreement, "Maybe you're right, ma'am…"

"Of course I am – I'm a Commander!" Carolyn grinned and dropped a broad wink at Harriet to take any possible edge off her words as she checked the collation of her brief before fastening each copy together with a staple though the top left hand corner.

Harriet took a deep breath as if to protest, and then caught Carolyn's eye, exhaling noisily, she assumed her most innocent sunny smile, and her voice dripping with honeyed insincerity agreed, "Of course, ma'am!"

In the meantime, Harm sat in his silent office, thinking of Jen and the currently strained atmosphere at home. That definitely couldn't last. If he let it continue to fester then the Lord knew what the outcome might be. No, he'd have to stoke the temperature up to boiling point, screw down the safety valve and wait for the boiler to burst, hoping that the explosion wouldn't be too violent. The thing was, how as he to incite a riot without having it spill over into open warfare. For a good hour and a half he sat, scheming and plotting one ruse after another, until at just short of ten hundred hours, he had planned, almost step by step, what he was going to do to achieve his aim. Of course, his planning was helped greatly by his knowledge of Jen and how she was likely to react. Still, there was always the unforeseen…

That decision made, he felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and standing he opened the blinds and then sauntered out across the bull-pen on his way to the galley, a friendly smile on his face and a nod of greeting to all as he anticipated a fresh, hot, cup of coffee.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen had driven to the Pentagon in a state of morose guilt. She knew Harm was right. Admiral Wyatt had chosen to take his own life having been caught after a number of years of abusing his authority. Arranging cover ups and undeserved promotions and coming up with plum jobs not only for his cronies, but also as bribes to the unfortunate women molested by Lindsey, by way of making them keep their mouths shut. And then, instead of admitting his guilt, or fighting the accusations like a man, he stuck the muzzle of a pistol into his mouth and pulled the trigger. But he had left a widow and two children a girl just about to graduate the Naval Academy, and a boy in pre-med at GWU, and it was the effect of his actions on his family that was upsetting – and all because she, Jen Coates, had been unable to let well enough alone and had stuck her nose into something in which she really no business in interfering. She shook her head as she eased into her accustomed parking spot and jammed on the emergency brake. When, she asked herself, would she ever learn not to let her curiosity lead her into these awkward and decidedly uncomfortable situations?

Jen's bleak mood easily communicated itself to the two Marines at the PCP just inside the entry way. Her downcast expression and the lack of her usual sunny smile were dead give-aways to the security personnel to whom Jen's usual cheerfulness had made her one of their favourite Petty Officers, but not this morning.

Jen marched stoically and as fast as she could through the maze of hallways towards the SecNav's suite of offices, thankful for the Pentagon's ample of provision of elevators; she really didn't feel she could manage the eight flights of stairs to the fourth floor this morning – or indeed any other morning until after Christmas, when the baby was scheduled to make her appearance.

That thought did have the effect of slightly lifting the corners of Jen's mouth and lightening her forbidding expression, but those effects didn't last very long and as she entered her office and hung up her coat and cover Angela took one look at Jen's face and deciding not to comment, other than to offer her customary cheerful "'Morning Jen," quietly slipped away to their mini-galley to brew a cup of fresh camomile tea for her friend.

Returning a few minutes later, Angela deposited the mug of tea on the corner of Jen's desk, "Don't bite my head off, but you look like a cup of tea would do you good," Angela smiled as she turned back towards her own desk.

"Yeah, thanks," Jen muttered and attempted – not too successfully - a smile.

Angela cradled her own cup – of coffee – in both her hands and cocked her head to one side, "What's up? The baby giving you a hard time."

"No." Jen said shortly, booting up her computer.

"Okay," Angela continued brightly, "If it's not the baby, something is bothering you. Want to let me in on the secret?"

"No." Jen replied even more curtly as she tried to make sense of the display on her VDU.

"Wow! Must be bad, had a fight with Harm, or did you just get out of the wrong side of bed this morning?"

Jen gritted her teeth and sent a look of pure exasperation at the broadly grinning blonde with whom she shared the office. "You're loving this, aren't you?" she demanded.

"Loving it? No…" Angela said thoughtfully, "but then again, I wouldn't love anything that stresses you out the way you are now." She paused, knowing that she was about to tread on dangerous ground. "And you know stress isn't good for your baby."

Jen glared at her friend, "And your constant nosiness isn't reducing my stress level!" she snapped.

"Well, there's any easy way to stop that!" Angela grinned, "Just tell me what's going on and I'll shut up! That ought to reduce some of the stress!"

"Oooh!" Jen ground out in frustration and glowered at Angela, "All right, if you must know, I can't help thinking about that poor woman and her children!"

"Huh? What woman?" Angela asked in confusion.

"Mrs Wyatt! Her husband was Admiral Wyatt. You know, the one who was on the news last night!"

"Oh, yes. Well, of course I know who you mean, now. But why is it bothering you?"

"Because if I wouldn't have gotten nosy, and looked him up, I wouldn't have told Harm, and he wouldn't have told the defence attorney, and the IG's office wouldn't have gotten on his case, and…"

"Okay, okay… I get the picture!" Angela interrupted, her face losing its grin. "Now… you listen to me, lady! Admiral Wyatt was a disgrace. He disgraced and dishonoured not only himself and his uniform, but also every other honourable officer that's ever served in the US Navy! He dishonoured and disgraced them twice over! Once by his acts of deceit and bad faith, and secondly when he decided to take the coward's way out and swallow his gun! You have nothing to be sorry for! You found evidence of offences and you reported them. If you hadn't, you would have been as guilty as he is, by turning a blind eye. And once you had been brought to realise that you know you would have felt even worse than you do now!"

"Oh I know, I know," Jen sighed. "Well, at least I do here…" she tapped the side of her head, "But I don't feel it here!" she pressed her hand to rob-cage over heart.

"H'mm… And what does Harm have to say about all this?" Angela demanded.

Jen's face took on a somewhat guilty expression, "Uh… we haven't really talked about it…" she confessed slowly.

Angela let a definitely un-ladylike snort, "What you mean is that you won't let him talk with you about it! You've been cuddling this as if it were some sort of treasure! For fu… I mean for God's sake, Jen! You're married to the man! Let him in! It couldn't hurt, and it might even help!"

"Yeah! Like you talked with Tom about Lindsey propositioning you!" Jen fired back.

"That was an entirely different thing altogether! And you know it! I didn't tell Tom because I didn't want to see him court-martialled for coming in here, looking for Lindsey with a baseball bat!"

"Yeah – right!" Jen snorted and then resolutely returned her attention to her computer screen.

Angela shook her head, "Sometimes Jennifer Rabb, you are totally impossible!" She waited for a reply but when Jen ostentatiously kept her nose almost pressed against her VDU screen, Angela just shook her head and turned her attention to her own work.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxx-xxxxx**

Harm returned from the JAG galley, bearing two cups of gently steaming coffee, but stopped short of his destination, his eyebrows lifting in surprise as he saw Loren's door shut and the blinds drawn. "What's going on there?" he asked the bull-pen at large.

"Oh… uh… it seems that Loren… uh… Lieutenant Si… I mean Rabb has had a sense of humour failure this morning…" Harriet replied, waiting expectantly for some sort of explanation from Harm.

Instead, Harm's eyebrows raised even further, "Really? She seemed okay on the ride in… Harriet, please go and knock on her door, and then open it for me, would you?" He grinned at Harriet's stricken expression, "Go on, I'll take the flak. After all I've got broader shoulders!"

"That you have, sir!" Harriet acknowledged with a half-smile, as she crossed towards Loren's office.

Loren looked up in annoyance at the rapping on her door frame and had "Go away!" framed on her lips when the door, to her indignation opened without her invitation.

"What the f…" she started and then realised the intruder was not only her so-called adopted brother, but also her superior officer and that he was bearing two mugs in his hand which were giving off the heavenly aroma of fresh-brewed coffee.

Harm smiled at her only just bitten off outburst, and placing one of the mugs on her desk convenient to her hand before he took a seat in one of her visitor' chairs. "That's no way to greet your beloved brother," he grinned, "Nor is it an acceptable form of greeting a senior officer!" he finished sternly, but with a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

Loren looked stricken for a moment before she picked up the almost hidden teasing note in his voice. "H'mph!" she snorted, "But it was an entirely appropriate form of address to an intruder! What if I had been getting changed in here and you had walked in on me half-naked?"

Harm winced, paled and then blushed. He tried to cover his confusion by taking a sip of coffee before he answered in an ironic voice, "Aw, gee, thanks for that mental image Loren!" and grinned mischievously.

Loren was puzzled by his grin for a second or two, and then as she took in his double-entendre she blushed crimson, "Oh! You…. You… you…" she spluttered, and then making a massive effort she brought herself under control, although still with heightened colour, "So what brings you to bait the lioness in her lair?" she demanded.

"Actually, I've come to offer to baby-sit Sasha tomorrow evening," Harm said mildly.

"Why would I want you to baby-sit tomorrow?" Loren demanded, still suspiciously.

"Because I'm hoping that you and the other women in the office will descend en masse on Jen, at our place, and try to cheer her up."

"What's wrong with Jen?" Loren demanded, all her irritation at Harm's barging in on her at an end, to be replaced by concern about the younger woman.

Harm sighed, "Jen's taking Admiral Wyatt's suicide very badly. Oh, not that she has any sympathy for the man himself, but for his family… she's got things twisted around in her head so that she feels guilty for being the source of their grief. So…"

"So you want us to hit your place like a horde of…"

"Barbarians?" Harm suggested lightly.

Loren favoured him with one of her angry kitten glares, but the decided to ignore his frivolous suggestion, "And armed with s'mores, chick, flicks, sodas, chocolates and greasy, unhealthy corn and potato snacks?"

Harm nodded, "Yep, that's about it!" he agreed smugly.

"I'll check with the others, and let you know after lunch, then," Loren agreed but the frowned, "But how come you're not trying to cheer her up?"

Harm became serious, "Because at the moment, Jen won't let me in, so tonight I plan on having a fight with her… to try and lance the abscess as it were… But here's the thing, after fighting with me, Jen's not likely to be in the mood to kiss and make up immediately, so I'm relying on her friends to jolly her into a more receptive frame of mind."

Loren screwed up her nose in distaste, "Ugh! Did you have to use the surgical analogy? Thank you for that mental image, Commander!"

"My pleasure, Lieutenant!" Harm grinned as he stood.

"G'wan, git!" Loren grinned.

"Yes, ma'am! And should I close the door, ma'am?"

"Oh… what the hell… no, leave it open," Loren sighed resignedly. She watched Harm's retreating figure, "I sure as hell hope you know what you're doing, Harm!" she muttered as she contemplated his plan of starting a fight with Jen.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen had spent most of the day deep in silent thought. Angela had decided to leave her to brood, consoling herself with the thought that she had tried to get Jen to either open up to her, or talk with Harm. Giving a mental shrug of her shoulders she decided that she had been wasting her time, after all, what was it her mother used to say? Oh, yes, 'there's none so deaf as them that won't hear!' And of all the stubborn, hard-headed women that Angela had met, Jennifer Coates was ay up on the top half of her list. What Angela didn't realise was that about mid-afternoon, Jen had come to realise that Angela was right, but couldn't find the words to admit it. Instead she resolved to stop on the way home and buy something for Angela to say thank you. Something small and simple, but something that would let Angela know just much Jen valued her friendship, and her occasional ass-chewings!

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen was still in a reflective mood as she drove home, stopping off at the Pentagon City Mall to buy Angela's gift and a ruminative cup of tea while she thought about how she had not only shut out Angela, but even worse, how she had turned her back on Harm, whom she knew had only been trying to help. She was still trying to decode what he best approach would be as she pulled into the driveway in front of the garage at the house on Annandale road.

Jen saw that Harm's Lexus was already parked in its usual spot, but she had already figured that would be the case, unless he had been working late her stop at the Mall – which with buying and having the present gift-wrapped, plus the time taken to drink her tea had taken up nearly an hour of her time. But that hour had also given her time to adopt a more settled frame of mind. So, although she acknowledged that she was the guilty party, she braced her shoulders and hoped that Harm hadn't taken her rejection of him too badly.

She was doomed to disappointment. Opening the front door, she called out "Harm? I'm home…" and waited hopefully for his reply.

Unusually, he didn't come to meet her which was his normal practice when he got home before her, instead his voice sounded from the study. "I've eaten. Your dinner's keeping warm in the cooker."

Jen blanched; this was even worse than she had anticipated. Hanging her cover on the peg just inside the door, she dropped her briefcase by the hall table and crossed to the study. The door was open and she hovered in the doorway uncertain as to interrupt Harm who had his nose on a bulky file, and was alternating his attention between the file and his computer screen.

"Uh… Harm…" Jen began tentatively.

"What?" he demanded, not shifting his attention from whatever it was he was working on.

"Harm… I need to speak with you…"

At that he pushed his chair back from the desk and swivelled it around to face her, "Well, that's just too bad… I needed to speak with you last night, and all I got was a cold shoulder and a 'leave me alone!' Now, I'm busy. I'm sure anything that you need to say can wait until I've finished. After all, you froze me out last night, and now you've had plenty of time to get home, but no, instead you disappear over the horizon, and nary a word to me! Where the hell have you been? If you were going to be late, a phone call might have helped! So, it's pretty obvious from where I'm sitting that you are completely self-sufficient and don't really need me in your life! What is it Jen, are you regretting marrying me? Regretting that maybe you made a mistake?"

Jen's eyes flooded, "Oh… Harm! No! Never! You made me the happiest woman alive…"!

"Doesn't look like it from here." Harm said coldly.

"Oh, no… Harm… please…" Jen's tears poured down her face, as she broke into sobs.

Harm's heart nearly broke at the sight and sound of Jen crying and he had to steel himself to continue with his plan.

"Well… look at it. You disregarded my advice when I told you not to take Admiral Wyatt's death personally. As for his kids, they're adults, and they and his wife are hardly likely to be left destitute. They did just fine on a Flag Officer's pay and if they're broke, then they only have themselves to blame for living life up to the limits of their income. Hell, even we don't do that, and we're not uncomfortable on a Commander and Legalman One's pay!"

"But… but…" Jen stammered through her tears.

"Not working! I tried to be supportive last night, but no, that wasn't good enough for you! You were happy to have a pity party all by yourself, instead of turning to the one person to whom you could have and should have turned, the one person who had the duty and the right to care for you, to help you get to grips and get over your sadness. Jen, when will you get it through your head that I am not just a fair-weather friend! Jen, I am your husband, but I'm beginning to wonder if you will ever just start treating me like it!"

"Oh, Harm… I'm… so, so, sorry… I've been… thinking… all day… and you're right… I know you are… and even Angela told me to get… me head out of my six… I'm sorry Harm… but… You're like me too… All my life, and all your life… we've had to be self-reliant… and you're as bad about not sharing worries… we both find it difficult to unbutton…" Jen gulped through her tears.

"Is that really how you see us, Jen?" Harm asked as he stood and taking her hand drew toward the other chair in the study. "Do you really see us both as rigid, emotionless, totally self-controlled?" he handed Jen a clean handkerchief from his pocket, "Here, dry your eyes and blow your nose!" he commanded, as if to a small child.

Despite herself, Jen couldn't repress a weak, a very weak, smile at his tone as she obeyed his instructions. And as her eyes cleared she realised that Harm was on one knee in front of her, and as soon as she finished her mopping up operations he plucked the square of soggy linen from her fingers and took her hand in his.

"Now, to get down to brass tacks," he said in a much altered tone of voice. "Firstly, you are not a control freak when it comes to opening up to other people. Your face is far too expressive for that! Every emotion you experience is as plain to see as the nose on your face! So, thank God you gave up on poker! Here's the thing… because your emotions as so plain to see, people know when something's bothering you and those of us who love you can't bear to see you unhappy, so we try to get you to tell us what's wrong… I bet Angela asked you this morning, didn't she…?" Harm grinned as Jen just nodded, punctuating the nod with a sniffle.

"And that's when you button up!" Harm said, mitigating the accusation with a smile.

Jen gulped, "Harm… I really am sorry… I don't know why I have such a hard time telling people what's wrong. I hate not being able to confide in people, but I just find it so hard…"

"Well… I'm not so sure that I would be down on you for not confiding in other people, sweetheart, but you've got to learn to realise that you can, should and must talk with me when something upsets you. Okay?"

Jen's heart leapt at Harm's endearment and she managed a watery smile, "I… I'll try…"

"Good. And what's more," Harm added gently, "If you're going to be late home, call me and let me know, huh? Stop me from worrying. After all, I seem to remember you flying off the handle at me once for that very sin!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The following day saw normal relations restored at home and at the SecNav's legal office. Jen had made a determined effort to get in to the office slightly early, hoping to beat Angela's time, and much to her relief she was the first to arrive. Hastily depositing the gift-wrapped package on Angela's desk, Jen waddled as quickly as she could to the mini-galley and made herself a cup of lemon-grass tea and prepared a fresh brew of coffee. She had barely returned to her desk when Angela arrived for work. Hanging her cover on the peg next to the door the blonde looked cautiously at Jen, "And how are you this morning?"

Jen looked slightly shame-faced. "Better, thank you, Angela… Um… you were right…"

"Of course I was!" Angela grinned, grateful that Jen's customary good humour seemed to have returned and she turned smiling to her desk, only to stop short as she saw the gaily-wrapped package sitting square in the middle of her blotter.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Um… just a little something to say sorry for the way I was yesterday, and to try to let you know how much your friendship means to me…" Jen replied with a slightly embarrassed smile.

"You didn't have to do that!" Angela protested, "A simple sorry and thank you would have been enough!"

"Maybe," Jen demurred, "but, I went ahead and did it anyway…" she shrugged.

Angela looked at the package again, "Can I open it now?" she asked eagerly, the tone of her voice putting Jen in mind of a child at Christmas or on her birthday. "Open it whenever you like," she grinned. "It's your present!"

"Yes! It is!" Angela agreed, almost throwing herself into her chair, but then delicately unwrapping the small, plain cardboard box. The box open, she pulled out a small wooden model of a thatched cottage, with two front doors. In one doorway stood a be-whiskered carved figure of a farmer, and his rosy-cheeked wife stood in the other entrance, with a thermometer mounted between the doorways on the front of the building. The two figures were mounted on a slim length of wood which was pivoted at the centre, so that as one figure swing into the space in front of the house, the other necessarily retreated into the interior.

"What is it?" Angela asked.

"Um… it's a kind of weather forecast thing…" Jen tried to explain. "There's a small barometer inside the house linked to the beam the figures are on, and when the air pressure is high, the farmer's wife comes out of the house, showing that it's going to be good weather, and if it's going to be a miserable day, then the farmer comes out. I figured it would be ideal as a present for someone who isn't just a fair weather friend!" Jen finished triumphantly

"I've never seen anything like this before!" Angela exclaimed, "It's great! Where…?"

"It's made in England, hand crafted out of wood," Jen nodded at the brightly painted house, "It's not too kitsch, is it?"

"Well… maybe a little," Angela teased but then smiled hugely, "Jen, you really didn't wave to do this, but thank you. It's wonderful!"

"I'm just glad you like it!" a blushing Jen answered.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The quarrel with Jen over and done and the making up completed, Harm had been able to concentrate on his work, and thanks to the low level of activity at JAG,** n**ot only had he been able to plough through the backlog of reports, summaries and depositions in his in tray, but he had even managed to completely clear it on a couple of occasions.

Of course, that he'd been able to do so was the result of not being sent out of town on any investigations, except of course, that one eminently stupid case of the bullying MA2 at the Norfolk Navy Yard brig. And that had only been a one nighter.

The Master at Arms cheerfully admitted all the complaints raised against him, and didn't seem to think that he'd done anything wrong. "Just a touch of discipline, sir it's what those scumbags in there need! Just getting them to be squared-away sailors, sir!"" he had protested when Harm informed him that charges were to be filed against him.

Harm shook his head, baffled by the MA2's attitude. It's not as if the inmates of the Navy Yard Brig were scumbags – real hardened criminals. Far from it, most of them were stupid – although maybe not as stupid as the MA – sailors or Marines who had made some poor, but not necessarily seriously bad decisions and were serving sentences of sixty days or less. Real bad hat sailors with longer sentences ended up on the Brig at Groton, or for even more serious crimes at Leavenworth.

Harm checked over the summary on his blotter once more, and now happy that he had edited out any typos, he scrawled his signature above his typed name and clipped it onto the file with a sigh of relief, and then dropped it casually into his out tray for later delivery to Tiner for submission to the Admiral. 'Well, that's that job jobbed,' he mused and grinned at the idiosyncrasy of his thoughts and looking at his watch figured that it was time he rewarded himself for a good half-morning' work with what he considered to be a richly deserved cup of coffee.


	103. Back Down to Earth

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 103  
>Back Down to Earth<strong>

Having checked that Jen had managed to get out of the bath and was happily drying herself off, Harm bolted back downstairs and scraped together a hasty meal that when he looked at it was sure was going to bring a protest from Jen. And so it proved ten minutes later when, now dressed in one of his t-shirts and a pair of his jogging bottoms, she entered the kitchen and looked at the offering on the table.

"What's this?" she demanded almost truculently.

"Dinner?" Harm suggested lightly as he unscrewed the cap of a bottle of sparkling water.

"This? This is dinner? An egg salad and a couple of rounds of bread? This is dinner?"

"Sorry, but yes. I don't have much time this evening… I thought I told you I had to go out?"

"Well yeah, you did… but you never said where, or what time you'd be going or what time you'd be back!" Jen argued petulantly.

"I am sorry, sweetheart, but it's one of those need to know things…" Harm explained lamely.

This earned him a glower from Jen, even as she sat at the table, "This had better not be one of your ham-fisted attempts to protect me, Mister!" she growled.

"Now, Jen, after the last few days, we agreed that we wouldn't do that anymore, remember?"

"Oh, I remember. But I also know you. You may have promised to make it so, but that doesn't mean you won't backslide into that particular habit!"

"Well, I did promise, and I do intend to keep that promise, so tonight has nothing to do with protecting you from anything!"

"H'mm… if you say so…" Jen agreed reluctantly and with a disparaging look at her dinner savagely speared a slice of boiled egg on the end of her fork.

Looking at her discontented expression Harm fought hard to keep a smile from his face, let alone let rip the laughter he could feel welling inside him. In Jen's present mood, laughing at her would be tantamount to domestic suicide. Instead he concentrated in clearing his plate in short order and only looked up as, just before she finished eating, Jen made one more try and said, "Are you sure you can't tell me what's going on?"

"I'm sure sweetheart. In fact, I'm not totally sure that I know all that's going on!" and that was no less than the truth.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

At lunch that day Loren had joined him at a quiet corner table in the cafeteria and had said to him, "This idea of a girly evening for Jen?"

"Yes?" Harm had replied his heart sinking at the thought that maybe it had been too short notice and that it wouldn't get off the ground.

"Oh, don't look so worried, it's on. It's definitely on, only it's not quite the evening you might have anticipated…"

"Oh…" Harm grinned in relief but added, "Now I'm really worried!"

"No need to be, well, I don't think there is, it's just that somebody – not me, I'm afraid – realised that Jen hasn't had a baby shower, so there may be one or two bodies more than we had first figured on, and it might go on a little longer than we'd anticipated…"

Harm winced, "How much longer? Jen tends to hit the sack early these days, wasn't it the same for you in your last month?"

"Yeah, it was, and don't worry, if I see signs that Jen is getting tired, I'll wrap the proceeding up tout de suite!"

"Okay… but… why are you telling me this?" Harm asked. After all the girly night had been his idea.

"Oh… just to see you sweat a little," Loren grinned.

Harm nodded, "And you do realise that next week is Mac's last week at duty here before she heads off to LeJeune?"

"Yeah, so that probably means a wet down for her on Friday next," Loren mused.

Harm nodded, "Normally Harriet would see to that but I'm not sure whether under the circumstances…"

"M'mm… I see what you mean… I'll do some discreet asking around."

"Thanks, Loren… and Loren… don't forget to tell Mac about the shower, she might not want to come… she and Jen haven't spoken since Jen PCS'd and they weren't on the best of terms then, so…"

"Okay, I'll ask. I managed to bury the hatchet with her, so maybe…"

"Yeah, maybe…"

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Harm made short work of the task of washing up and clearing away the kitchen debris while Jen with a pointed sniff waddled in as dignified manner as she could back to the living room where she ostentatiously buried her nose in the most recent edition of 'Mother and Baby' magazine, and made a further point of ignoring Harm as he readied himself to leave the house.

Under normal circumstances Jen's behaviour would have led Harm into making some sort of conciliatory gesture but on this occasion Jen's snit served him well as he was able to leave by the front door, with no acknowledgement to his "Bye, sweetheart" and also allowed him to dodge around the side of the house and down the path to the ranch-house.

Loren met him at the door with an amusedly arched eyebrow, "What's with all the cloak and dagger stuff? Yes, I saw you duck down below window level!"

Harm looked rather sheepish, "Um, I… uh… Well, Jen didn't take too well to the news that I had to go out, especially as to maintain security I had to tell her that it was a need to know thing…"

"H'mm… yeah… I can see where that would be tricky," Loren grinned, "But never mind right now, come on in before she looks out of the kitchen window and sees you, and so I can explain where everything is."

She led him into the living room, where Harm was struck once again by the extent that Loren had made this house into a home. Her pictures and Navajo rugs on the wall contrasting with the light oak walls and floor, also partially covered in rugs. In one corner was Sasha's baby gym and the end wall of rough-dressed stone contained an open fire place with a stone mantel and the wall furthest from the yard was almost completely filled with a set of bookshelves that Harm could almost hear groaning under the weight of Loren's law library.

He switched his attention back to Loren just in time he reckoned to prevent her from asking if he was listening to her. "So… to recap… Sasha's in her crib, I fed her an hour ago so she should be settling down alright. I haven't heard a murmur from her in the last twenty minutes or so. Her baby monitor is on, and it's on the coffee table next to the couch. If she should wake up, it'll probably be because she needs changing. Everything she needs for that is on the changing table in the nursery, together with a step by step instruction sheet!"

"An idiot's guide to changing diapers?" Harm queried.

But all his sally earned from Loren as an acerbic glance and a terse, "You said it. Not me! Right… if she wakes and isn't wet and dirty, heat up one of the bottles I've left in the fridge, and when I say heat, I mean barely warm… use the old method to test for temperature, drip a little on your wrist and if it feels hot, then it's too hot. If you need to feed her, then put her on her play mat for a while. She's gotten out of the habit of sleeping straight after feeding so it may be half an hour before she drops off again." Loren eyed him doubtfully, "And if anything else happens, or you find that you can't cope, then you know where I am!"

"Aye, aye, ma'am!" Harm said cheerfully, which did nothing, if the dubious look she cast at him meant anything, to allay Loren's doubts. Then with a shrug she picked up a grocery bag and a brightly wrapped parcel from where they stood by the door and after another silent look at Harm let herself out into the cool of the December evening.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen although she had pretended to pay no attention to Harm was acutely aware of him tidying up the kitchen and then dashing upstairs for his reefer and finally closing the front door behind him. And although she to all outwards appearances was immersed her magazine, the words on the page meant nothing to her as she sat and seethed. Damn it! She knew he had an important job that sometimes called him away at unexpected hours, but usually he could gave her some indication of what he was going to do, even if she wasn't really meant to be in the loop. But this time around it was just 'need to know', and then he'd been wearing civilian clothes when he left the house, and she prayed to God that he hadn't gotten himself mixed up with the CIA and their shady operations again! If he had, then if he came home with so much as a hangnail; then she was going to kill him herself!

Her brooding was interrupted by the sound of the kitchen door opening and she raised her head a smile beginning to lift the corners of her mouth, only for them to droop in disappointment as Loren's voice rang out, "Hi Jen! It's me!"

"Come on in, Loren," Jen said wearily, and then as the blonde entered the room her shoulders sagged even more, "What? No Sasha, where is she?"

"Oh… she's at home; I got a sitter. Harm told me that he'd have to go out this evening, so I arranged for a sitter and decided to come and keep you company, just us girls together. And…" she lowered her voice conspiratorially, "I brought goodies!"

Jen eyed her suspiciously, "Goodies?"

"M'mm…" Loren dived into the sack, "Let's see… Graham crackers, Lady Godiva truffles, slab chocolate, marshmallows… You realise we'll have to light the fire… Oh yes, and I left a case of sodas in the fridge. You know, those sweet fizzy drinks that Harm doesn't like… and I brought a movie… 'Away We Go' it's about a couple expecting their first baby and trying to decide which is the best city of the ones they know… it's a comedy…"

That was enough for Jen, "Okay, Loren, what's going on?"

"Going on?" Loren tried faking innocence but failed miserably.

"Yes! Going on and don't pretend…" whatever Jen might have said was lost in the peal of the front door bell and Loren leapt to her feet "I wonder who's calling at this time of the evening… stay where you are Jen, I'll get it!"

A grin cracked Loren's face as soon as her back was turned to the suspiciously glowering Jen, and the blonde hurried to the door, throwing it wide open, "Come on in ladies," she said and then called back over her shoulder, "Jen! It's Carolyn, Babs and Sue!"

Jen had attempted to push herself to her feet but on this occasion gravity won out and she glared helplessly as her home was invaded. And the invaders had come armed, grocery sacks and brightly gift-wrapped packages not only weighed down the horde's arms but also indicated just what sort of invasion this was.

The glare left Jen's face and she sank back into her nest of cushions a helpless smile on her face, "You guys…" she began.

"My fault!" Loren admitted with an entirely unrepentant grin, "Harm said he thought you needed cheering up, and then I remembered that we hadn't given you a baby shower yet so…"

"So we all brought goodies and presents!" Carolyn announced triumphantly, "Where's the fridge for the drinks?"

"In the kitchen, through there," Loren told her, pointing to the kitchen door, even as she took charge of the party. "Now the rest of you find somewhere to perch, we have a movie to watch to get us all into a sentimental mood, and Jo, the fixings are by the hearth can you start a fire please, we're going to need it for s'mores – oh – Babs, can you get the door, please?"

Babs returned from her mission to the front door with Harriet and Mac in tow, and to Loren's relief, after a sidelong look at the two, their normal, friendly relations appeared to have been restored, and the blonde heaved a relieved, but silent, sigh.

Mac made her way over to the couch and indicating the empty spot next to Jen she said "May I?"

"Oh… Of course, Colonel," Jen said but wondering just what was coming down the pike. But surprisingly Mac looked embarrassed.

"I haven't been a very good friend, I'm afraid Jen… I mended fences with Harm, but I've been too… too… backward in doing the same with you. Yes, I blamed you for stealing Harm from me, but I've had time to think about that. You can't really 'steal' another person, and if Harm found… well, if I had perhaps been a little less capricious, Harm wouldn't have had to find love anywhere else. So it was entirely unreasonable of me to hate you for something to which I made a major contribution."

Jen blinked. True, Mac hadn't actually said 'sorry', well not in so many words, but her little speech definitely sounded like an apology, and Jen knew just how hard Sarah MacKenzie found it to apologise to anyone for anything.

"That's all over and done with now Colonel. Harm and I very happy together, and he tells me that you're looking forward to a new assignment?"

Mac nodded, "Yes… if I am to make another promotion, I need a command assignment, and the one at LeJeune will keep me in touch with military law too, so that's a bonus. But real congratulations are yours, it can't be much longer now, surely?" she asked glancing meaningfully at Jen's swollen girth.

"No, thank God!" Jen exclaimed fervently, "Just over two weeks! I can't wait! I'm longing to see my feet again! It's been so long I've forgotten what they look like!"

While they had been talking Carolyn had taken her turn in answering the doorbell only to find a tall slim blonde woman on the porch, and although she was a stranger to Carolyn, she too was loaded down with a grocery sack and a package.

"Hi, Carolyn greeted her with a smile, I take it you're here for the shower?"

"Yes… I'm Angela Hartmann, I work with Jen…"

"Come on in! We can't stand out here all night, come on in. Jen's in the lounge, do you know the way?"

"Yes, I remember, thank you."

Jen was still feeling slightly uncomfortable at having the tall, brunette – and slim – Colonel sat next to her, so her eyes opened wide with surprise and in a voice of delight she called out, "Angie! Colonel, would you mind?"

"No, of course not Jennifer, I'll speak to you later, but at the moment it looks like I need to show that young woman how to make s'mores!" With a nod towards Jo Pearson, Mac stood up and smilingly relinquished the space on the couch to Angela Hartmann.

"I know I've said it before," Angie smiled, "But this time it's official – congratulations, mom!"

"Apart from that – you'll never know just how glad I was to see you just then! Talk about awkward! That was Colonel MacKenzie, Harm's ex-partner, friend – ex-friend- and now friend again. She thought she had Harm on a string, but…" Jen shrugged, "And tonight is the first time she's spoken to me since we got married! Oh, well, at least she wasn't openly hostile, but I get the feeling that she's here out of duty rather than solidarity with a sister!"

Angela laughed openly, "You? A member of the sisterhood? Not a hope in hell! Now… if I remember correctly, the kitchen is through there right? I have to present my offerings!"

"Just before you go, lady, did you know about this evening's performance?"

"No, I swear! The first I heard about it was this afternoon when you went to brew the tea, Commander Manetti poked her head into the office and gave me a warning order. Apparently Harm's sister called her. She couldn't make it, but she did send a card… here…" Angela delved into her purse and brought out a bright pink envelope which she passed to Jen.

Jen took it and smiled, "I think I'll wait until later and open everything together!"

"Good thinking!" Loren chimed in from behind the couch, "Everything alright, Jen?"

"Oh, yes, perfect! But you and I are going to have a long conversation about surprise parties!"

Loren just laughed and continued on her way to the entertainment centre.

Jo and Babs in the meantime were busy in the kitchen and shortly returned with bowls and dishes loaded down with what Harm would undoubtedly castigate as the worst sort of junk food. Bowls were heaped with potato chips almost glistening under their coating of oil and salt, packets of pretzels had been ripped open and their contents poured onto plates, tortilla chips surrounded plastic pots of salsa and other assorted dips, two large round plastic trays were smothered with slices of various flavours of pizza and two large plates were covered by mountains of doughnuts and bear claws.

Loren looked around a beam of satisfaction on her face and clapped her hands for silence, which when it came after the hubbub of female voices fell heavily on the group, "Okay ladies, the munchies are here, and I see everyone's got a drink, so…in deference to Jen's late stage of pregnancy, the usual baby shower games are out of the window, but in place of them, we have a movie to watch. So… help yourselves to the nibbles… I've just checked the fridge and it's overflowing with cans of soda and bottles of water… Jen, there's even half a dozen bottles of sparkling apple cider in there for you! So, everyone find somewhere to perch! You've got a minute before the movie starts!"

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

It was after midnight when a tired but satisfied and smiling Loren quietly let herself into her living room, where he found, as she'd half expected, Harm dozing in one of her arm chairs, the baby monitor balanced on one broad shoulder next to his ear. But quiet as she had been her entrance was sufficient to pull him from his doze and he smiled a welcome at her and then looked at his watch.

"Loren! It's gone one! You haven't been partying all…"

"No… nothing like that," she replied as she dropped into the other arm chair. "Jen started showing signs of tiredness at about eleven, so I herded everybody – well nearly everybody – out and packed Jen off to bed and then Carolyn and I cleared up as best we could. Carolyn went home about twenty minutes ago, and I just did a quick check to make sure you weren't facing any domestic crises in the morning. Although…" Loren paused as if searching for the right words, "Judging by the amount of baby present Jen scored last evening, you might want to consider moving the nursery to a larger room!"

"Good grief! Just how much plunder did Jen acquire?" Harm asked in an amused but baffled voice.

"Tons!" Loren laughed softly, "And considering she was the invaded and not the invading horde, she did pretty well out of the evening I reckon!"

"Well, it certainly seems that we owe you a heap of thanks for organising this at such short notice!"

"BS!" Loren retorted, "Isn't that what families do for each other?"

"I reckon! Now… Your daughter…"

"Oh dear, what did she do?" Loren asked, although by the look on Harm's face she had no real cause for alarm.

"She woke up, demanding to be changed, at about twenty-two fifteen hours, and having been cleaned, dried, powdered, pampered petted and hugged, smiled beatifically and promptly went back to sleep. No problems at all!"

"H'mm… and as for going promptly to sleep, I figure we ought to do the same. I don't know why, but I have a feeling that after the last couple of easy weeks, the crap is going to hit the fan all too soon!"

"You had to say it, didn't you?" Harm groaned theatrically as he stepped towards the door. "Goodnight Loren!"

"Goodnight Harm."

Harm swiftly crossed the yard and let himself in through the kitchen door and turned on the light and then whistled softly as he saw the stack of empty, washed and dried plates and dishes waiting to be returned to their normal stowage. Pausing again to turn off the light he stepped into the living room and by the light of the banked and dying fire he see that the couch and one of the armchairs was piled high with all sorts of baby related items, but decided that tomorrow was quite soon enough to investigate Jen's acquisitions. Twenty minutes later, showered and dried he slipped under the covers and spooned against his wife's back.

"M'mm… Did you have a good time?" Jen asked in a sleep ridden voice, and Harm smiled. He was certain that Jen was fast asleep and had still managed to ask how he had enjoyed his night. A wicked smile wreathed his face as he thought of how he could wind her up on the morning with the tale that he had been romping with a blue eyed blonde all evening. So thinking, he too fell asleep.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The following morning however, when Jen joined him at the breakfast table, the sunny smile on her face made him throw all thoughts of teasing her out of the window. With a little puff o exhaled air she leaned in towards him as he sat and kissed him softly on the cheek.

"That's just to say thank you for organising last night!" she told him fondly.

"I didn't organise anything!" Harm protested, watching carefully as Jen lowered herself onto one of the kitchen chairs.

"No? Well, it was your volunteering to baby-sit Sasha that put the idea into Loren's head!" Jen smilingly accused him as he stood to make her a cup of tea.

"Raspberry, Lemon Grass, Camomile or…"

"Um… Raspberry, please!" Jen said dropping two slices of bread into the toaster.

"I may have suggested you needed cheering up, but all I had in mind was a couple of the women from the office dropping by for tea and talk. I did not have the faintest idea that Loren was going to turn it into a full-blown baby shower! It wasn't too tiring was it?"

"No," Jen smiled, "Loren sent me to bed as soon as she thought I was tired… an then… Jen looked around the kitchen, she must have had a gang clearing up in here – the place looked like a bomb had hit! I must remember to thank her!"

"M'mm… still… judging by the amount of baby goods piled on the couch and on the chairs, you didn't do too badly out of the affair," Harm said.

To his consternation, Jen's eyes misted over, "Oh, yes! Everyone was so kind! And would you believe? Jason Tiner sent a baby blanket with Harriet Sims, hand crocheted apparently by his girl-friend!"

"Tiner has a girl-friend?" Harm asked in mock amazement.

"Oh, shut up, you know he does!" Jen laughed. "Still, sorting out all the presents will give me something to do over the next couple of weeks."

"Next couple of weeks?" Harm queried.

Jen shook her head in fond exasperation. "Have you forgotten? I start my maternity leave after secure on Friday!"

Harm grinned, his eyes crinkling in amusement, "No, I hadn't forgotten, but I've got so used to seeing you so beautiful that I was kind of hoping that it might last forever!"

"Might? Might… might last forever? Ooh! I am going to kill you for even thinking that!" Jen tried to scold him but the love she saw in his eyes was too much and she ended up grinning as foolishly as he was. "Anyway, I've got to go if I'm not going to be adrift. Don't worry about the living room, we can do it after we get home this evening!" and with that Jen hauled herself to her feet and walked around the table, leaning in to give Harm a soft but passionate kiss, before she grabbed her purse and cover and headed for the front door.

Harm shook his head and smiled. Standing he collected the dirty mugs, plates and flatware before rinsing them off in the sink. He finished drying them just as he saw Sasha's baby-sitter head down the path to the ranch house, and with a nod of satisfaction, he secured the back door and headed for the car to wait for Loren.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Harm was engrossed in the case file that had been handed to him at staff call. He was alternately frowning and chuckling, although the offences listed on the charge sheet could have led to very serious consequences. Death for one of the participants and life imprisonment for the other. Still… it was funny in a sort of half-assed way. Two midshipmen at the Academy had apparently decided to refight the civil war, complete with authentic and very sharp civil war era cavalry sabres. Not that it would have been a brawl, oh no, these two young gentlemen had decided to abide by the code duello, and had arranged for seconds, a referee and even medical cover. Fortunately for them one of the seconds had a sudden attack of common sense and had blown the whistle, alerting the authorities as to what was proposed. The result: the two Midshipmen were now in confinement at the academy brig while their future was being decided. A future which could very well involve a general court-martial for the two young hotheads.

It was almost too bad that Mac was leaving at the end of the week, he would have enjoyed going up against her in court as she tried to defend the two youngsters' indefensible conduct, as it was, he was expecting not too much of a challenge to his prosecutorial skills in the shape of Alan Mattoni, who at first glance of the file had given a disgusted moan.

Still, even if Mac wasn't going to be around, the joke was too good not to share with her, and with that that he reached for his phone to pass on the details of the case to her.

He was forestalled however by that instruments harsh ring and wondering how she could possibly have known he was about to call her, he picked up, "Mac?"

"Uh… No sir, it's Tiner. Sir the Admiral; would like to see you and the Colonel in his office, ASAP!"

"On my way! Have you told the Colonel?"

"Yes, sir! Just before I called you!"

"Okay, thanks, Tiner… oh and Tiner?"

"Sir?"

"Jen says to make sure that you thank your young lady for the baby blanket!"

Even on the phone the pleasure in Tiner's voice at having his girlfriend's efforts appreciated was evident. "I will sir, and I hope that Je… uh… that Mrs Rabb is doing okay?"

"She's fine, thank you Tiner. Now, I'd better get going!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

There was no profit in wondering what Chegwidden wanted, Harm told himself as he crossed the bullpen, just being headed off by Mac at the door to Tiner's cubby-hole of an office.

"Ladies first," Harm grinned.

"Why, thank you, suh!" Mac quipped in her best, which was not very good, imitation of Scarlett O'Hara.

"Go straight on in ma'am. Sir," Tiner interrupted them, "The Admiral's waiting for you."

That didn't sound so good, so Harm crossed to the door and rapped on the door frame.

"Come in damn it!"

Harm and Mac exchanged a look not entirely free of apprehension and entered the Admiral's office. Crossing the carpet they halted in front of his desk, "Commander Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie, reporting as ordered, sir!" Harm rasped out in his best plebe voice.

The Admiral looked up at them from across the desk and Harm as shocked to see how tired and how old he looked. Chegwidden made a sweeping gesture, "Take a seat you two, and watch the screen…"

Chegwidden pressed the button on the remote control he held in his hand and spoke over the first few seconds of white noise, "This was posted on the internet last night. I warn you, it does not make for pleasant viewing.

The screen cleared to show a head and shoulders shot of a very much bruised and battered western looking man dressed in what appeared to be a torn and dirty flight suit. He stared defiantly at the camera, saying nothing, until from out of shot a hand swept across the screen, backhanding him savagely across the face.

The image shook its head and licking fresh blood from his split lips he croaked, "My name is Simon Foster, I'm an American citizen and a pilot. While on a peaceful transit of this country's air space four days ago, I was illegally attacked and my airplane was brought down by a surface to air missile. I parachuted safely and was then captured on the ground. My captors inform me that I am spy and that the penalty for espionage is death. I am not a spy. Please tell my Uncle Clayton that the package was undelivered"

That was all he had time for before a voice was heard screaming at him, "Farsi?" Harm asked Mac.

She shook her head, her eyes locked in horrified fascination on the screen, "No, Arabic, I think…"

By this time the image on the screen had changed, a crowd of four or five men in shabby olive-green military clothing could be seen swarming Foster, punching him to the ground and then kicking him. The vicious beating lasted for maybe thirty seconds until he lost consciousness.

Chegwidden pressed the remote control's buttons again and the screen faded to black. "The video continues, but I really don't advise you to watch it." He swallowed hard as if trying to prevent himself from vomiting. "About twenty seconds further on into the video he recovers consciousness and then they beheaded him with a sword. It took three or four swipes…"

Harm felt his stomach roil and Mac pressed her fingers to her mouth and she too looked as if she wanted to be sick, "Dear God…" she muttered.

Chegwidden nodded, and now Harm could see why the older man looked so tired and ancient. "As I'm sure you recognised him, that was the former Lieutenant Foster, and the reference to his 'Uncle Clayton' makes it pretty obvious who is employers were."

"Which explains why he was allowed to retire prematurely without a blemish on his record… And why Webb was here the day you closed the down our case…" Harm suggested.

"Exactly. Now, this afternoon, I have arranged for a meeting with the CNO, the Director of ONI and the SecNav. The SecDef may also be in attendance. However, you Commander and you Colonel, will most definitely be there as my aides and as witnesses to what occurred during your JAGMan investigation. It's going to be tricky. All we'll have is our unsupported word, and if people start demanding evidence…"

"Um… not quite sir… I… uh… Well… I made a copy to disk of everything I had on my computer before I wiped it. I didn't disobey orders sir, I did destroy all hard copies and expunged everything from my hard drive, it's just…"

"It's just that while obeying the letter of my orders, you disobeyed the spirit of them, Commander. Very well. Bring the disk, we may need it. But you and I, Commander, are going to have a very long and serious discussion about good order and discipline! Understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Very well. We leave at thirteen thirty hours. Don't be late. Dismissed!"


	104. Sow a Breeze and Reap a Whirlwind

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 104  
>Sow a Breeze and Reap a Whirlwind <strong>

A bleak expression on his face, Admiral Chegwidden watched his two subordinates leave his office and close the door behind them before he propped his elbows on his desk and propped his head in his hands for long minutes, as he considered the horrible evidence contained in the video downloaded from the internet – at which point he too felt his stomach roil and he shuddered – while he considered Rabb's disobedience to orders – at which he ought to be as mad as hell, but in fact couldn't help feeling grateful for – and the chain of events that had led to this situation. And the key factor in that chain was the interference, again, by the CIA in naval affairs. Which reminded him… he needed to try to get one more attendee at this afternoon's meeting. With a determined expression he unlocked and opened his desk's middle drawer, pulled out his private phone book and reached for his phone. Chegwidden dialled the number and waited, but not for very long. Four rings later the phone at the other was lifted from its cradle.

"_Hello_?"

"Binky, it's A J."

"_A J, I told you I can't talk about Foster, and yes, I am going to have to report this call as well._"

"I don't think so," A J replied, "My guess is that, concerning this case, all bets are off."

"_What do you mean_?" Admiral Sheridan replied.

"You hadn't heard? Foster's dead."

"_My God! What, how? Another crazy flying stunt gone wrong_?"

"No… he was flying, apparently for another government agency, was shot down near the Iraq/Iran border, captured and then decapitated as a spy… All of it very plainly recorded and then posted to the internet."

"_Dear God… Those sick Mother…_"

"Yeah, exactly!" A J took a deep breath, "Binky, I've had it up to here with the clowns at Langley getting our people and yes, our ships involved in their filthy schemes, so I've arranged a meeting this afternoon with SecNav, ONI and CNO, fourteen hundred hours at the SecNav's offices. I'd like for you to be there, so we can present as full a picture of what happened as possible."

"_To what end_?" Binky replied cautiously.

"To drop the boom on those assholes at Langley, and cut them off from poaching any of our people in the future, and restricting any future naval assistance to the absolute minimum."

Binky thought for a moment. He was nobody's poodle and hated the way he and his organisation had been played on several occasions by the people from Langley, furthermore he too was an aviator, an A-6 pilot, and a good one, back in the day, so not only was he used to taking risks, he also had a degree of fellow feeling for Foster, even the pain in the ass the younger man had been. With a nod unseen by A J he made up his mind. "_I'll be there! Service Dress Blue, I take it_?" he asked grimly.

"Service Dress Blue, aye!" Chegwidden agreed. "See you at fourteen hundred!" he put the phone down with a wolfish grin. Lower the boom? Hell, he was going collapse a wall on the Langley based clowns.

In the meantime he needed to figure out how many bricks from that wall he was going to land on the head of one Commander Harmon Rabb!

Once safely outside the office Mac threw Harm a filthy look, "'I'm going to be a good little sailor boy!'" she misquoted him, finishing off with a disgusted "Hah!"

Harm shrugged and grinned, "Hey, Mac, what can I say? I had a feeling about this whole affair going belly up, from the moment that I saw Webb in the building, I figured it had his grubby paw prints all over it! And did you hear Foster's 'Tell Uncle Clayton'? If that wasn't pointing the finger at Webb and the rest of the spooks, I don't know what was!"

Mac shook her head as she followed him into his office, "So, what was with you telling me to get rid of all my files, notes and correspondence? How come you thought it was okay for you to disobey the Admiral and not for… Oh… No… Wait! That was you being uber-protective again! Harm, how many times do I have to tell you that…?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, you're a Marine!" Harm interrupted her, "But look at this from my point of view… You are going on to a command appointment, which is a big step to your eagles. Now me, I've already reckoned that I'm topped out. With my record – which more than one senior officer has described patronisingly as 'very interesting reading – there is no way on God's good earth that I'm ever going pass the board for selection to O-6, so feeling, or rather almost knowing as I did, that we would need what notes and files we have, I elected to keep them and say nothing to you. Let's face it, one more ding on my record isn't going to matter one way or the other, but you've managed to put most of your crap behind you, so to me it made sense."

Mac glared at him, "Apart from the fact that I don't need you to hold an umbrella over me, and I hate that you didn't trust me enough to let me know what you were doing – partner – I wouldn't be too sure about you having reached a dead end! Much as you aggravate me at times, you're a damn' good attorney, and though it grieves me to say it, as a squid, you've got a leadership quality that makes people look up to you, so don't write yourself off too soon, so pulling stunts like this isn't going to help your career – and there's no one way or the other about that!"

"Nice of you to say so, Mac," Harm replied with a lazy grin that he knew would only wind her up even more than she already was, "But I don't need letters of fire to read the writing on the wall!"

Mac gave him a further hot, angry stare before turned on her heel and almost flounced out of his office, her heels clicking on the floor. Harm gave a shrug and allowed himself another grin. This wasn't a major rift, just Mac blowing off steam for him keeping her out of the loop.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

And so it proved at lunchtime. For a change, bearing in mind the need for their thirteen thirty departure for the Pentagon, Harm was one of the first dozen or so people into the cafeteria and so had his pick of the tables. Choosing one in the corner furthest from the cash register he wasn't particularly surprised to be joined a few minutes later by Mac and then Bud and Harriet.

"You two finally go around to kissing and making up?" he asked, using his fork as a pointer as he waved it back and forth between Mac and Harriet.

Mac managed a smile that started out somewhat on the sheepish side, but broadened into one of satisfaction as she said, "Yeah… I had to do some grovelling, but I guess that's suitable penance for when you keep someone who thinks you trust them out of the loop."

"Oh?" Harm said innocently, "Has someone been keeping secrets?"

Mac badly wanted to rip into Harm for that, but she wasn't sure how she could do that without revealing such a sensitive, if not classified, subject to Bud and Harriet, who in this case definitely did not have a need to know. So instead she turned her head and indicated to Bud and Harm the trio of blonde officers, Loren, Babs and Jo Pearson, who had just walked into the cafeteria, "When did Blondie and Barbie get back from Nevada?"

"Nebraska," Bud corrected her mildly, while Harriet gave Mac a sharp, and not wholly approving look, which bounced unnoticed off the armour of the Marine's ego.

"Wherever," Mac waved off her geographical error, "But when?"

"It must have been yesterday afternoon some time," Harm said, "According to Loren, they were at Jen's shower last night… As were you… I don't know if Jen was expecting you, but, thanks, Mac."

"I don't think she was expecting me," Mac confessed, "Not if the speed she got rid of me is any indication. No! I'm not blaming her for not being more welcoming, we all know that if Jen has taken against me, then in great part it is my fault. But, yes, they were there, at least Barbie was, I had to show her how to make s'mores."

Harm blinked in astonishment, "You had to show her to make s'mores! Hell! Talk about the blind leading the blind!"

Mac blushed and protested, "Hey, I can cook!"

Harm turned to Bud and Harriet for support, "She says she can cook – this from the woman who burns water when she heats it up!"

Mac's red-faced protests were lost in the gale of laughter that swept the other thee at the table, bringing amused but wondering glances from the other lunchtime diners.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

In a total contrast to the conviviality of lunchtime the ride to the Pentagon was notable for its silence. Mac and the Admiral shared the rear seat of the Navy sedan while Harm thankfully slipped into the front passenger seat, acutely conscious of the Admiral's gaze on the back of his head.

On arrival at the Pentagon entrance the driver, a Seaman leapt out of the vehicle and flung open the Admiral's door and as soon as he had set foot on the ground, Harm and Mac left the vehicle and fell in two paces to his right rear as he quick marched towards the building entrance.

Signing in at the Marine-manned PCP was swiftly accomplished, "Has Admiral Sheridan arrived yet?" Chegwidden asked the Sergeant manning the desk.

"Yes, sir, five – no – seven minutes ago, sir!"

Chegwidden grunted and turned on his heel, leaving Mac and Harm in his wake and realising that the JAG was so interested in the arrival of COMNAVAIRLANT because of the Foster connection. They exchanged a silence glance which more than adequately conveyed the feeling they shared, that this whole situation was about to develop into a shit storm of apocalyptic proportions.

That feeling only intensified when the Admiral stuck his head into the SecNav's PA's office, "Good afternoon, Mrs Mayberry, I believe we're expected?"

Penny Mayberry looked up and smiled, "Yes, indeed, Admiral. The Secretary is all set up in the small meeting room. Shall I…"

"No, thank you. I know they way."

"Very well, Admiral," Penny Mayberry smiled, and as the door closed behind him she shook her head, silently scolding herself. She may have been married nearly twenty years but there was something about A J Chegwidden that always set her heart a-flutter. Maybe it was his crooked smile… but he hadn't been smiling today, and yet she still felt the familiar, forbidden thrill that the mere sight of him evoked.

Chegwidden stalked down the hall towards the designated room and stopped in front of the door, cocking an eyebrow at Harm who dutifully stepped forward and opened the door for his senior. With a nod, Chegwidden deferred to Mac and then followed her into the room, leaving Harm to act as rear-guard and close the door.

"Good afternoon, Mister Secretary, gentlemen," Chegwidden said evenly, and composing his face so as not to give any clue to what he might be feeling.

Those already present, the CNO, the Director of ONI, Admiral Sheridan and Secretary of the Navy Edward Sheffield and Director Kershaw of the CIA were already seated at the long table that dominated the room.

"A J, punctual to the second – and Colonel MacKenzie and Commander Rabb!" Secretary Sheffield gave the trio of naval officers a smooth, urbane smile in greeting, a smile that Harm instantly distrusted, but which Chegwidden returned, apparently sincerely.

"Sit down, please all of you, and let's get this show on the road," Sheffield suggested, and waiting until the three newcomers had settled themselves added, "You called for this meeting, A J, so let's hear what you've got to say… but first… the colonel and the commander?"

"They were in on this case from the first, Mister Secretary, and they have knowledge and insights that no-one else at this table does. We are here to discuss the recruitment of naval officers by the CIA, in particular Lieutenant Simon Foster, and their employment by that agency."

"That case is classified, compartmented and need to know!" Kershaw snapped, "And is not to be discussed outside sealed and properly swept accommodation, certainly not in the presence of unqualified sailors!"

"And who might they be?" Admiral Brockenhurst, the new Director of ONI asked mildly.

"Those two… that Commander and the Marine…"

"And that's one of the problems that we need to discuss today!" Chegwidden supplied.

"Admiral, I'm warning you…" Kershaw began.

"No, Director Kershaw, I'm warning you," the SecNav said quietly, "We will discuss, in as much detail as we deem necessary, the CIA's methods of inveigling assistance of the navy in its nefarious little plans, and if blowing the lid off this case helps us to achieve that, then I am more than happy to discuss it every which way from here to Christmas! And if that doesn't suit your taste, then I'm sure that a period of confinement for espionage wouldn't be much more to your liking!"

"You can't do that!" Kershaw blustered.

Sheffield leaned forward, there was, Harm noticed an unpleasant look in his eye and when he spoke his voice was cold, "Oh, but I can, and if it is needed, then I will. All I have to do is send for a file of Marines and have you marched into the nearest Navy brig and file those charges against you. I'm sure the FBI would love a chance to investigate all the goings on at Langley. Not to mention, of course, Congressional Hearings and Senate Review Boards, and depending on the number of political enemies you've made during your tenure, those boards could be quite large with I don't know how many representatives and senators, all clamouring for the CIA's, which means your, blood. They could take months to get to the bottom of the issue and all the time you'd be the forgotten man of Groton Brig!" Sheffield took a breath, "So we will get to the bottom of this affair. Admiral Chegwidden?"

"Mister Secretary, some while ago the Commanding Officer at Naval Air Station Oceana passed a file to my office containing a charge sheet against Lieutenant Foster for recklessly hazarding an aircraft. That file and the charge had been endorsed by Admiral Sheridan in his capacity as the Flag Officer having court-martial jurisdiction over NAS Oceana and its personnel."

"Agreed," Sheridan added when Chegwidden looked at him for confirmation.

"I tasked Commander Rabb to prosecute the case, and Colonel MacKenzie to defend Foster. They travelled to Oceana where Commander Rabb collected the prosecution evidence and Colonel MacKenzie interviewed the accused. It might be better if we allow them to tell us what happened there. Commander, as is usual, let the prosecution lay out the facts."

"Aye, aye, sir!" Harm looked at the assembled brass and gulped this was even more intimidating than his first solo case at a long ago court-martial.

"The case seemed simple enough, I travelled down to Oceana and spoke with the base Commander, Captain Preece, who gave me a key piece of evidence, some amateur footage of Lieutenant Foster's reckless hazarding an aircraft, plus endangering hundreds of civilians on Virginia Beach and in a block of condominiums fronting the ocean. I reviewed the video and agreed that there was very little doubt as to the identity of the airplane involved, and thus no doubt as to the identity of the PIC…"

Harm went on to describe his interviews with Foster's RIO, Lieutenant Vandenberg, and with Captain Archer, the _Harry S Truman's_ CAG, and then detailed the technical evidence that the Crew Chief had downloaded from the Tomcat's on board computers.

Once he had finished his narration he relaxed back in his chair, more than glad that the ordeal was over, as Secretary Sheffield, looking as grim as the CNO and Admiral Sheridan turned back towards Chegwidden, "I understood you to say that the video was amateur footage?"

"Yes, Mister Secretary."

"But if it was shot by Captain Archer, who is, I understand an accomplished pilot himself, it can't really be amateur can it?"

Chegwidden wondered why the hell the SecNav was nit-picking over a minor, tangential point, but forced himself to answer civilly, "In the sense of it not being shot by a professional videographer, then yes, Mister Secretary it can be described as amateur footage, but footage that was shot by someone with a professional knowledge of his subject."

'He said videographer?' Harm fought down a smile as the thought crossed his mind, 'I didn't think the old buzzard even knew the word, let alone its correct application!'

Director Kershaw knew he was fighting a losing battle but tried to regain some of the ground he had lost in the exchange with the SecNav, "Commander, you say that the aircraft involved was easily identifiable, and so the identity of the pilot was never in doubt. I have seen thousands of feet of amateur filming in my career, and I can assure you that the identity of the subject is nearly always in doubt! How can you be so sure?" He leaned forward as he spoke, his voice icy, and Harm had no doubt that the purpose of the comment and question was to intimidate him into nervousness and perhaps a contradiction of what he had said, thereby casting doubt on his version of events.

"Not in this case, Mister Director," he said firmly.

"If I may?" Admiral Sheridan spoke up, and receiving a nod from the SecNav continued. "The footage in this case was shot by the _Truman's_ CAG, who, as has already been stated, is a highly experienced fighter pilot in his own right, it was also seen by Commander Rabb here, who is also an experienced F-14 pilot, with two DFC's to his name. Neither of these two officers is likely to claim that they could positively identify the aircraft in question, unless they were absolutely certain as to which aircraft it was. Furthermore, Mister Director, I too have seen the footage, and there is no mistaking the F-14's nose number which is as clear as day. I too was a fighter pilot, and while my vision may have deteriorated since I flew, it had not yet done so to the point where I can't read a low-flying airplane's nose number!"

"But all three of you could be mistaken…" Kershaw started to argue but was cut short by Chegwidden.

"There is an easy way to resolve this question, so that we can get on with the case! Colonel, your lap-top if you please!"

Both Mac and Chegwidden spent the next few seconds opening their briefcases, and once Mac had set up and booted her computer, Chegwidden handed her the disk with the footage of Foster's low-flying. Mac inserted the disk into the computer's drive and turned it so the screen faced the top of the table, "Ready, gentlemen?" she asked.

The SecNav nodded while the CNO and the DNI leaned forward expectantly. Kershaw's face, on the other hand, was grim. He had no knowledge of what was on the disk, but he had no doubt that the visual evidence would show conclusively that the errant Tomcat was Foster's ride. However, he was not yet finished. "Hold on!" he snapped. "Admiral Chegwidden were you not ordered to destroy any and all disks, tapes, files, documents, photographs and drawings pertaining to this case?"

Chegwidden favoured him with the sort of look that in his native Texas he would have reserved for sidewinders, scorpions and gila monsters, "Your Mister Webb did visit me and tell me that was what was wanted. However, Mister Director, I am an Admiral in the United States Navy, I do not take orders from civilians in any case, especially when the content of those orders amounts to interference in the discipline of the Navy and obstruction of justice!"

Secretary Sheffield coughed apologetically, "You… uh… don't take orders from civilians, Admiral?"

Chegwidden looked nonplussed for only a second, before a rueful grin appeared on his stern face, "Yourself excepted, Mister Secretary, but only because you are in effect the Commander in Chief's deputy."

Sheffield's interruption and Chegwidden's response brought a tension easing chuckle from all but one of the party seated around the table, and still with a grin on his face the SecNav nodded to Mac, "Go ahead, please, Colonel."

Mac pressed the 'Enter' button on her lap-top and the screen lit up. The audience watched the slightly less than the two minutes' footage in silence, and then as the screen went dark, Secretary Sheffield sat a little straighter in his chair and fixing Director Kershaw with a steely eyed glare demanded, "Well, did anyone not clearly see the nose number on that airplane?"

Even Kershaw nodded his head and grudgingly admitted, "Yys, it was clear… that is if the footage hasn't been carefully edited… I would need to have that disk carefully examined by our forensic experts to validate that."

"Not a chance, Kershaw!" Chegwidden gritted, "I'll bet a penny to a pile of crap that if you get your hands on this disk it will unaccountably be lost or corrupted before any of us here saw it again!"

"Are you accusing me and/or the Agency of…?"

"Hell, yes! Anything and everything!" Chegwidden snorted, "Up to and including being the second shooter at Dallas!"

Kershaw purpled but before he could retort, the CNO intervened, saying severely, "Power down, A J. We've no evidence to support any contention that the CIA was involved at Dallas!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Chegwidden replied stiffly and then had to fight down a wholly inappropriate grin as the CNO continued.

"Although I'm beginning to think that you might not be so far off the mark!"

Secretary Sheffield slapped the table top hard, "Enough foolishness, gentlemen! Admiral Chegwidden, what's next?"

"I'll pass that on to Colonel MacKenzie, Mister Secretary."

Mac rose to her feet, "Mister Secretary, gentlemen, Director Kershaw… Having been detailed as Lieutenant Foster's defence counsel, I travelled down to Oceana with Commander Rabb…"

"Isn't that collusion with the prosecuting attorney?" Kershaw demanded.

The conviction already held by Mac deepened that Kershaw knew he was on a hiding to nothing and was merely trying spoiling tactics in an effort to muddy the waters, and she hoped that his ply was as transparent to the rest of the meeting. As it was she took a deep breath, "No, Mister Kershaw it was not."

"It's a what? Four hour drive to Oceana from DC, are you trying to tell me that you passed the journey in silence?"

"Certainly not!" Mac smiled, "The Commander and I have been friends and partners – and yes, sometimes courtroom adversaries – since ninety six. We had a lot more to talk about than the upcoming case."

"Leave her alone, Kershaw," the CNO growled, "Let her get on with her evidence."

Kershaw subsided back into his seat accepting for the moment that there was little he could do that would stave off what he clearly saw as impending bad news for the agency, which to his way of thinking was bad news for the country.

Mac inclined her head towards the CNO, "Thank you, sir. On arrival at Oceana Commander Rabb and I made our number with the base CO, Captain Preece, who showed us both the video which you have just seen."

"Wasn't that a trifle irregular?" Admiral Brockenhurst asked.

Mac shook her head, "No, sir. Commander Rabb would eventually have had to hand over a copy of the disk to me under the Brady disclosure rules, so I would inevitably have seen it anyway."

Brockenhurst nodded, satisfied that his concerns had been met, "Carry on, please, Colonel."

"Yes, sir. After we had watched the video and had a short conversation with Captain Preece, he arranged transport for me to the BOQ where Lieutenant Foster was in arrest…"

Mac then recounted her strange conversation with Foster, and her theory that Foster knew he wasn't going to be punished for his dangerous flying finishing with, "Given the he stipulated he would plead guilty only if there was no sentence of confinement and no FNAEB I suspected that he had a high-paying civilian job lined up and he was keen to get to it. He first proposed that he be allowed tor resign under those conditions and then when I told him that was a non-starter, he suggested that he accept dismissal from the service, but still insisted on no brig time and no FNAEB. I told him that I would pit his proposal in front of the convening authority, but that he wasn't to expect a favourable response."

"And did you do that, Colonel?" the CNO asked

"I never had the chance to, sir. The very next day Commander Rabb came to me and told me that Captain Preece had, under instructions from Admiral Sheridan, withdrawn all charges and that Foster was to be allowed to resign, despite the fact that he hadn't yet fulfilled his obligation to the Navy."

Both the SecNav and the CNO swivelled their heads to level accusatory looks at the hapless Admiral Sheridan, "You instructed the Base CO to withdraw the charges?" the SecNav asked incredulously.

"Yes, Mister Secretary, very much against my will and only under protest, having received written orders to do so from the ONI."

"What?" Brockenhurst demanded.

"Yes, sir, orders from your office that the charges were to be dropped, and that any conversations concerning Foster or his actions were to be reported immediately to your office."

"Impossible!" Brockenhurst objected.

"Not impossible, sir." Sheridan opened his briefcase and took out a red-bordered buff file, "This is the written order I received."

"May I see that, please, Admiral?" The DNI requested.

Brockenhurst read the file, his forehead becoming creased on a frown as he did so, "I have never see these orders before in my life, and I do not recognise the name in the signature block. How did you receive these orders, Phil?"

"By hand, from an officer who identified himself as Captain Singleton, the same officer who signed the orders."

"And do you normally accept orders from a junior officer?" SecNav asked.

"I do when the letter is signed 'for the Director ONI', and when the bearer produces authentic documents identifying him and his branch of service, Mister Secretary, particularly when it comes to Intelligence matters of which I know nothing, because I am told, I have no need to know, and all I had to do was comply with the orders I had received."

SecNav nodded, it was a reasonable reply, although he would have hoped that any admiral in that position would have sought confirmation from the Director, but there was no use crying over spilt milk.

"And you say you have never heard of this officer, Admiral?" SecNav asked Brockenhurst.

Brockenhurst shook his head, "No, Mister Secretary, I may only have been in office a short time, but I do know the name of every Captain working for me."

"And you have full knowledge of all compartmented operations?" Kershaw sneered.

"I'd better damn well have, or the officer or officers responsible for keeping me in the dark might as well submit their resignations today!" Brockenhurst answered angrily. "I will not tolerate my officers keeping secrets from me!"

"If he _was_ one of your officers…" Harm couldn't prevent himself from murmuring.

"What was that Commander?" Obviously Admiral Sheridan's ears were still as sharp as they had been when he flew A-6 Intruders over Vietnam.

"I beg your pardon, sir!" Harm rapped out as he could feel the tips of his ears beginning to bun, "But I just wondered whether the individual who delivered the letter to Admiral Sheridan was one of the ONI's officers, or even if he was a naval officer at all."

"Meaning he might instead have been one of Mister Kershaw's operatives?" the CNO asked.

"With respect sir, I didn't say that," Harm demurred.

"No… you didn't… but you sure as hell planted that thought between my ears!" the CNO replied adding "Damn shysters!" but diluting the insult with an approving nod of his head and a grin.

"Was that the case, Kershaw?" SecNav demanded angrily.

Kershaw shifted uncomfortably in his chair and looked uneasy, "Not to my knowledge," he mumbled.

Harm looked around the table, and judged that if the facial expressions of the rest of the members of the meeting were any evidence, then he was not alone in disbelieving every word of Kershaw's denial.

"H'mph!" Chegwidden's disdainful snort broke the silence. "Mister Secretary, I find Director Kershaw's last statement very hard to believe. And I think I can refute it!"

"How so, Admiral?"

"When Commander Rabb informed me that the case against Foster had been dropped, I got straight on the horn to Admiral Sheridan, as the convening authority, to find out what was going on. He told me that not only could he not discuss the case, but also that he would have to report our conversation."

"Who to?" the SecNav asked, forgetting his grammar in his surprise.

"That too he told me he was unable to disclose."

"And who did you report the conversation to, Admiral?" the SecNav asked Sheridan.

"To the number included in the orders I was given, Mister Secretary."

"It's too much to hope for that you can recall every telephone number in your Office, Admiral?" Sheffield asked Brockenhurst.

"Sorry, Mister Secretary."

"H'mm…" SecNav gazed thoughtfully into the middle distance for a few seconds and then pulled out his cell phone and pressed a couple of buttons, "Mrs Mayberry, it's Secretary Sheffield. Can you check a phone number against all numbers allocated to the ONI here in DC? You can? Good. Listen carefully..." Sheffield read out the number from the file that Sheridan had given him. "Call me back on my cell phone the instant you get a match, or if no match, then I need to know that soonest, as well! Yes, thank you, Mrs Mayberry."

Sheffield tucked his cell phone back into his pocket, "Anything further to add, anyone?" he asked gazing round at the assemblage.

"Oh, yes, Mister Secretary," Chegwidden averred. "Within two hours of my phone call to Admiral Sheridan I received, as I said earlier, from Clayton Webb, a known CIA operative, who, again as I said earlier, told me to destroy all references to the Foster case, to my mind indelibly tying the CIA to Foster." Chegwidden heaved a sigh of resignation. "After that visit from the CIA's version of Barney Fife, I guess I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, which it did with a resounding clang this morning, and is the reason why I asked for this meeting."

"What happened this morning, Admiral?"

"This morning I received a hand-delivered package which contained a DVD download from an Arab-speaking…" he cocked an eye at Mac and receiving her confirmatory nod, "internet site. The contents are extremely graphic and extremely unpleasant. The DVD shows a badly beaten Lieutenant Foster in front of a video camera, obviously being coerced into admitting something or other, in view of his words, probably to being a spy. He denied this and then, still on camera, was brutally beaten until he was unconscious." Chegwidden swallowed convulsively, "He was then, still on Camera, revived and then beheaded with a sword. It took several attempts for his captors to achieve his decapitation. Foster's last words were 'tell Uncle Clayton the package is still undelivered'."

SecNav had gone pale as Chegwidden recounted the contents of the DVD and merely muttered "Dear God…" while even the hard-bitten CNO looked shocked.

"And you still have this DVD?" Sheffield gulped.

"I do, and I'm sure Colonel MacKenzie will be able to play it for you if you so wish. But if you do, then I am going to step into the hallway until you're done. I have no wish ever to see that scene again."

The CNO nodded, his face grim, "A J, I have no doubt that what you've just told us is true, but I think I speak for us all when I say that reluctantly we must see this recording with our own eyes. We cannot just rely on hearsay, no matter how proven the probity of the source. As an attorney, I'm sure you'll understand?"

"Of course, sir. But if you'll excuse me…" He handed Mac the second disk. "Set it running for them Colonel, and then if you wish join me outside. You too, Commander."

Once Mac had set the disk playing the three JAGs turned as one and hurried from the room into the hall, where they waited for just under five minutes before Binky Sheridan, his face white, opened the door, "It's finished, A J, and I'm with you whole-heartedly. I never want to see that… that… thing again!"

Once inside the meeting room and everyone had taken their seats again a visibly shaken SecNav turned to Kershaw. "I have seen and heard enough this afternoon to convince me, despite your somewhat mendacious denials, that your organisation set this up to get their hands on a navy aviator. Why you would do that is beyond me, when you have an air arm of your own! Is it still called 'Air America' or have you found a different nom de guerre? No, don't answer that!"

Kershaw however had made no attempt to answer but remained motionless in his chair doing his not very good best to look innocent, and once again it was Harm who broke the silence.

"I think I may have an answer to your question, Mister Secretary. The CIA agent organising this stunt or whatever it was knew there was a very good chance of it being FUBAR'd and the operative dying. He didn't want yet another of his failures becoming common knowledge at Langley – his last mess up not only cost him a leg, but also cost the lives of eight or nine FBI and CIA agents. So as far as he was concerned, Lieutenant Foster was an expendable dupe, and if it hadn't been for Foster's courage in speaking out during his final interrogation, we would never have made such a convincing link between him and the CIA!"


	105. The Next Step

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 105  
>The Next Step<strong>

"That's a damned lie!" Kershaw exploded.

"In what way?" Harm demanded bluntly.

"I can't go into that! It's classified!" Kershaw tried again.

"Bullshit!" Harm exclaimed.

"Now, now, Commander Rabb," SecNav Sheffield reproved Harm gently, "Let's not turn this into a slanging match. Now, Director Kershaw, in what way is what Commander Rabb claimed a lie?"

"I said, it's classified!"

"Commander Rabb, why are you so certain that Director Kershaw isn't being sufficiently forthcoming?" the SecNav turned his attention to Harm

"I've just said, it's classified!" Kershaw protested.

"And who classified it, Mister Kershaw?" Admiral Yorke, the CNO asked.

"I… uh… I'd have to check with my records…" Kershaw replied.

"Bullshit!" SecNav Sheffield retorted. "I have no doubt that Commander Rabb is telling the truth, and that once again if you haven't outright lied, you've done your best to cloud the issue and deflect these gentlemen and I from arriving at the truth… or as something as near to the truth as you can approximate. So, Commander Rabb?"

"I'm certain of the facts of what I saw and did that evening, Mister Secretary. I was there, and although I didn't fire my weapon I was stood next to Admiral Chegwidden when he fired the shots that killed Kozlovsky."

"And you shouldn't have been there!" Kershaw blustered, "These two…" he indicated Harm and Mac "disobeyed orders from their CO and shadowed the joint FBI/CIA task force to a secret location, thereby compromising the whole operation.

"Is this so, Admiral?"

"Not quite, Mister Secretary," Chegwidden replied heavily. "I did not issue any orders concerning the Colonel and the Commander's activities that night. No, they weren't briefed on the operation and yes, they did shadow it. In doing so they exercised independent thought and initiative and if they hadn't, the operation may well have had a different and much less happy ending. Furthermore the secret location was no longer a secret, thanks in great part to the incompetence of the CIA Agent running the operation. Which is why the joint task force had to set out to save his ass and the lives of those who he was supposed to be protecting."

"Who were my wife and our unborn child, and a woman my parents consider a daughter and the life of her infant daughter too!" Harm added hotly. "The location had already been compromised through Web's incompetence, and I referred earlier to Admiral Chegwidden taking down Kozlovsky; that Mister Secretary, occurred in the same room as my family, and where Kozlovsky had just shot and fatally wounded an FBI Agent."

"And the casualties you mentioned?" the SecNav asked looking slightly green around the gills.

"Nine dead and twelve wounded – that's the combined total from both the FBI and the CIA," Chegwidden added, but then grimaced "That's if the CIA figures can be trusted."

"Are those figures correct, Kershaw?" Sheffield asked.

"I… I… I'd have to check… but they sound about right…" Kershaw admitted uncomfortably.

"What I don't understand, is why was the CIA involved in an operation in the USA? I thought they weren't supposed to operate on American soil?" Admiral Brocken Hurst the Director of ONI asked.

"A foreign connection," Chegwidden said heavily, "Kozlovsky was acquiring US military weapons – stolen weapons – and selling them on the black market."

"How come I haven't heard of this?" Brockenhurst demanded glaring at Chegwidden.

"Because, thankfully, we only had the one case, a Master Gunnery Sergeant who was coerced into supplying Kozlovsky."

"Coerced, how? And what happened to him." Yorke asked

Secretary Sheffield held up a hand, "The Master Gunnery Sergeant is now serving ten years in Leavenworth. He was coerced by Kozlovsky kidnapping of his wife and two of his three daughters. One of whom, the youngest, they butchered and sent photographs of their handiwork to the Master Gunny to ensure his full co-operation."

"Yes, and the only reason they're still alive is because I managed to get a man on the inside of Kozlovsky's organisation to find them!" Kershaw interrupted, determined to score at least one point during this disastrous afternoon.

"So… In all this colossal screw-up, you got one thing right? Whereas anything this guy… Webb? Right, Webb, touched fell apart?"

"It seems that everything Webb has a hand in falls apart!" Chegwidden grunted.

"Such as?" Kershaw demanded.

"Well… for a start there was the Declaration of Independence case – the one where Colonel O'Hara is serving a term of confinement. That could have been resolved without loss of life if Webb hadn't 'leaked' to the media that what O'Hara wanted was five hundred million dollars in ransom. That amount of money turned heads and as a direct result of that there were deaths that were avoidable. There are also some suspicions levelled at Webb that he suborned O'Hara and his group into hi-jacking the Declaration!"

"That's a baseless lie!" Kershaw yelped.

"Is it?" Yorke challenged, "From the little I've heard of Webb, it sounds just about his big enough!"

"Well… I for one have heard enough!" Secretary Sheffield caused Mac to jump in her chair as he slammed his open hand palm down on the table, "And I think… Oh… One moment…" his hand slid into his suit jacket pocket and came out with his cell phone in his hand. "Yes, Mrs Mayberry?"

"_Mister Secretary, I checked that number you gave me against all the numbers allocated to ONI and came up with a blank. But I also tried a general directories search. The number is a blind… that is, it is routed through this building, but actually rings in a phone located at…_"

"Langley?" Secretary Sheffield asked bitterly.

"_Yes, Mister Secretary, exactly that_!"

"Thank you, Mrs Mayberry." Sheffield closed his phone and looked down the table, "That was my PA. She tried to track down the number that was given to Admiral Sheridan. While it is a Pentagon number, it connects to a phone at Langley. I have now heard more than enough. Director Kershaw, I am pulling the plug on all naval co-operation with your agency. You have forty-eight hours in which to terminate any and all of your agency's operations that involve Navy assets – men or materiel. Admirals commanding fleets will receive orders by midnight tonight that any CIA representative still aboard a navy vessel after midnight the day after tomorrow is to be put ashore at the nearest port, irrespective of which country that port happens to be located in. So… I suggest that unless you want agents stranded at some of the most inhospitable locations in the entire world, you get back to your agency and start bringing them home."

"But this is a matter of national security! You are endangering the security of the United States."

"And your methods endanger the lives and well-being of sailors to whom I owe a great responsibility. Yes, I will have to have my decision ratified, and it may be that my strictures will be watered down, but that won't happen in time to prevent CIA agents being set ashore in places like Cartagena or Monrovia, Borneo or Mumbai."

Sheffield looked down the length of the table, noting and enjoying the dismay on Kershaw's face and seeing to his satisfaction that each of the Admirals also looked grimly happy with the outcome of the session. Sheffield nodded, "Thank you, gentlemen. You are excused. Admiral Chegwidden, I assume you have other copies of the material you brought with you today, or you have the facility to produce more copies, should they be needed?"

"Yes, Mister Secretary."

"Goo… in that case please leave that disk with me. I'm sure the SecDef, the Joint Chiefs and the Presidents' Security Advisors will be… well… I won't say happy, but they'll certainly want to see it."

"Of course, Mister Secretary. Colonel, if you would?"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Mac responded crisply, ejecting the disk from her lap top's DVD drive and slipping it back in its case before handing it directly to the SecNav.

"Thank you Colonel." Sheffield stood, slipping the disk into his pocket as he did so. The other occupants also stood as he strode out of the room, leaving Kershaw confronting the four Admirals.

"A j!" he hissed, his face contorted with anger, "You don't know what you've done!"

"Oh… I think I do… I've managed to put a shield between the navy's sailors and the incompetents you hire at Langley," Chegwidden said coolly. "Sir!" he nodded his respects to Admiral Yorke, "By your leave?"

"Yes, go on A J. We'll need to speak about this later, though."

"Of course, sir! Colonel, Commander with me!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm waited until the conference room door was closed behind him before he spoke, for the last thirty minutes he'd had one eye on the clock and was keenly aware that it wanted only a few minutes before secure. "By your leave, sir?"

"Yes, Commander, what is it?"

"May I have the Admiral's permission to secure, sir?"

"What? Here and now?" Chegwidden asked in surprise.

"Yes, sir! It's… Jen… she starts her maternity leave when she secures today, and I suspect there are a couple of boxes that will need taking to her car… and if I could…"

"Yes, yes! Get on with it, then!" Chegwidden snapped and then his face softened, "And don't forget to give your wife my best wishes, and that we at JAG will expect to see the new Rabb at the earliest opportunity after he or she is taken on strength!"

"Aye, aye, sir! Thank you, sir!" Harm fished in his pocket and pulled out his keys, "Mac could you give these to Loren and tell her to take the Lexus home for me, please?"

"You're letting her drive your car? That's a change to normal!" Mac marvelled as she accepted the keys, "Shall I tell her to be careful as well?"

"Uh, no… no need… she already knows that!" Harm grinned as he stopped and let Mac and the Admiral go on their way.

A few moment later Harm knocked gently on the door of the SecNav's Legal Office and walked in to find Jen, Angela, Tracy Manetti and a couple of civilian women he didn't recognise all gathered around Jen's desk on which stood a couple of bottles of sparkling cider and the remains of a sticky pink sponge cake.

"Harm!" Jen exclaimed in surprise as she looked up, "Uh… sir… what are you doing here?"

Harm grinned at her and then with a suitably solemn face turned to Tracy Manetti, "Commander, I have come to take my wife home, that is if she has your permission to secure… oh… three minutes early?"

"Oh… I'm sorry, Commander, that's not possible…" Tracy said, straight-faced, and then as a puzzled frown started to creep across Harm's face, she smiled mischievously and exaggerating her accent slightly she drawled, "As you-all can see, she hasn't finished her cake and cider yet!"

"Ah…" Harm let an expression of resigned understanding settle on his face, "In that case, I won't rush her, Commander… It would take a braver man than I am to separate Legalman One Coates from her cake!"

Harm's pronouncement was met with a smile from Tracy and Angela along with a burst of giggles from two young women he didn't know and a half-amused glower from Jen. "That is so not true!" she defended herself, but judging by Harm's sceptically lifted eyebrow, he wasn't buying her protest.

"Oh, in that case, let's get going!" Harm said.

"In a second!" Jen replied, hastily cramming the last fragments of cake into her mouth and swallowing the last mouthful of her cider before she grabbed her cover and purse, "Okay… we can go now… can you take that box?" she indicated an archive box on the corner of her desk.

"So long, Jen!" Angela smiled, I'll come by to visit with you before you go in!"

"God, yes!" Jen agreed fervently, "Otherwise I'm likely to catch cabin fever!"

Tracy and Harm had exchanged an amused look as Jen hastily finished drinking and eating, but had, perhaps wisely, refrained from commenting on just how soundly Jen had proved their point, so with a spattering of 'goodbye and good luck' Harm bore Jen's personal office items down the corridor, adjusting his usual energetic stride to accommodate Jen's more stately progress.

"So… what brings you to these hallowed halls?" Jen asked once they had signed out at the PCP?"

"Oh… the |Admiral had a case to argue with the SecNav and Mac and I were his witnesses," Harm replied airily, having no intention whatsoever to tell Jen about the fate of Lieutenant Foster and how his death had fired up Chegwidden – and to be honest himself, and he strongly suspected Mac too.

"That's a little unusual, isn't it?" Jen demanded as they emerged into the winter dusk.

"Yeah, a little. Now, where's your car?"

"Just over here, to the left," Jen replied with a grin, "Gals in my condition get a special parking waiver!" silently acknowledging Harm's not so subtle change of subject and realising from his closed expression that he was unwilling, or perhaps unable, to say any more. Then she realised, "Harm. Where's the Lexus?"

"At JAG. I gave Mac the keys to hand over to Loren so she can bring it home."

Jen said nothing, but hid a small, secret smile, this was a complete reversal of Harm's usual policy of not letting anybody else drive his cars and as far as Jen was concerned was proof, if proof were needed, of just how fully integrated into their family Loren was.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Beth Hawkes finished stuffing her overnight gear into a valise. This was the first time since she and Jack had been separated that her three day stand down coincided with a weekend, and to make matters even better, Jack's watch had finished at sixteen hundred hours and he wasn't due back on watch until zero eight hundred hours tomorrow. They had a whole sixteen hours when they could be together, and Beth Hawkes had no intention of spending a single minute of that blessed time at Andrews...

A brief flurry of phone calls later and all had been arranged, Jack was on his way over from the Male BOQs and would be tooting the horn of that ridiculous muscle car outside the female BOQs any minute now. Beth grinned as she zipped the valise closed, she had no idea where they were going or what Jack had arranged, but she didn't care. Obviously Tilgham Island was out of the question, and anyway, Beth had a feeling that it would be pretty cold and bleak out across the bay. So she was prepared to be pleasantly (she hoped) surprised by whatever it was he'd arranged. She wasn't, however, prepared to wait and frowned at her watch, 'What the hell is taking him…" she never completed the thought as the distinctive blast of the Firebird's air horn split the silence. With a brief giggle and a smilingly reproving shake of her head, Beth grabbed her valise and ran.

"Hey, sweetheart," Jack said quietly, leaning against the side of the Firebird before he took Beth's valise from her on one hand and opened the door for her with the other.

"Hi Jack," Beth smiled and after a quick glance blew him a kiss before sliding into the passenger seat. Jack smiled, shut the door and walked around the rear of the vehicle, depositing Beth's valise in the trunk as he did so before he opened the car door and eased himself into the driver's seat.

"So… where are we going?" Beth asked.

"Now… that's a surprise," Jack grinned, "And you wouldn't want to spoil the surprise, would you?"

"I hate surprises!" Beth said firmly.

Jack risked a quick glance at her, "Do tell!" he exclaimed drily, "And here I was thinking of how only a couple of weeks ago you said how much you loved them!"

"Damn! You would have to go and remember that!" Beth said furiously.

"I never forget anything you say to me, Beth!" Jack replied letting go of the wheel with one hand and tasking hold of Beth's near hand he raised to his lips' and planted a kiss on her knuckles.

"Jack! What are you thinking!? We're still on base!" Beth said emphatically as she hurriedly snatched her hand free.

"I don't care," Jack said, "If I want the whole world to see how much you mean to me then I will damn' well show them! Or…" he added slyly, "is it that you are ashamed of me?"

Beth shot him a fulminating look, "Of course not! And you damn well know it, Jack Keeter! It's just that I don't want any flak from anyone – for your sake as well as mine! In fact, more for your sake! You know it's always the senior officer who gets hit the hardest!"

"That's pretty cool of you, Beth, but I'm a big boy now, and I figure I know the risks,"

"H'mph!" Beth snorted, not at all convinced by Jack's words, "Yeah, you are a big boy! And so you need someone to take care of you!"

Fortunately as Jack was totally unable to think of a comeback to Beth's assertion, the Firebird had reached the base main gate, and his attention was taken up by negotiating the chicane approaching the barrier and then the tricky interchange turn onto the Old Marlboro Pike.

Beth after a glance at Jack's nonplussed expression fought down a grin, well content at having rendered him temporarily speechless, and gave herself up to guessing their destination from their route, not that the turn onto the Beltway was much comfort, they could be heading almost anywhere and it was not until thirty minutes later when Jack turned off the Beltway into the US-50 that she at last felt she might have a clue.

"Falls Church? We're going to see Hammer and Jen?"

"Well… that is on the agenda," Jack admitted with a grin, "But not just yet… Falls Church is behind us… we're going west, young woman!"

'Going west?' Beth mused, 'can't be far, otherwise he wouldn't have said that about visiting Falls Church! Where is the damned man taking us?' For a second or two she was tempted to ask again, but the smugly expectant look on Jack's face told her that it would only afford him great satisfaction in not answering her question, so with another, distinctly unladylike snort, she ostentatiously crossed her arms in front of her chest and stared dead ahead through the windscreen.

Jack had a pretty good idea of Beth's thought process on this occasion and throwing another quick look at Beth, her face wearing a discontented pout, he contented himself by letting his grin grow just that little bit wider.

Another half hour saw Beth perk up a little as Jack indicated to leave the highway, "Middleburg?" she asked in a tone of surprise, "What's in Middleburg?"

"Ah… be patient, grasshopper… Another five minutes and all shall be revealed!"

"Grasshopper!" Beth puffed indignantly and then lapsed back into what she considered to be a dignified silence and which Jack, sneaking another sideways look, decided was a fit of the sulks. Adorable sulks maybe, but still sulks, and had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from exploding with laughter.

But true to his word, five minutes later saw them drawing up in front of the Middleburg Country Inn, whose mellow red bricks gave off an illusion of warmth despite the thin grey clouds which diffused any possible degree of warmth and light of the pale December sun.

Beth looked at the building which to her inexperienced eye seemed to date from after the Revolution and looked every bit the Virginia Gentleman's home, "Jack?" she said tentatively.

"Well… like I said it's too far to Tilgham Island, so I figured this would make a suitable substitute, with the added bonus of we don't have to catch, or even cook our supper!" Jack laughed, alluding to the mess of sea-bass he had caught and which Beth had cooked on their last trip to his shore-line cabin.

"Well, yeah, but Jack…"

Jack unclipped his seat belt and leaned over, taking Beth's unresisting hand in his, "Hey, listen up. This is a special weekend and you are a very special lady, so no more 'but Jack', okay? Just lay back, relax, unwind and enjoy the facilities, right?"

"Oh, Jack…" Beth smiled helplessly, "What am I going to do with you?"

And then as she saw a more than usual degree of warmth in his eyes Beth had a panic stricken thought, 'Oh God, he's going to propose…' "Jack…"

"Hey! Didn't I say no more 'Jack'?" he asked in aggrieved voice, "C'mon, our rooms are waiting for us, and I don't know how long they'll hold them past our ETA!"

Five minutes later Beth was installed in her room, which was dominated by a huge canopied bed and a large window which looked out over the rolling countryside and the neatly fenced pastures of the northern Virginia horse country. She sat on the side of the enormous bed and shook her head, a fond smile on her face. Although she and Jack had drawn a lot closer she still hadn't felt ready to commit to a physical relationship and she'd had her doubts about checking into a hotel, no matter what type but Jack's 'our rooms' had set her mind at rest, 'although I should have known that he wasn't going to press for anything more than we have – of my own experience didn't tell me that, then didn't that air force major tell me that Jack was one of the good guys who accepted that when a girl said no, she meant no?'

But a glance at her watch told her she needed to get a move on, Jack had said to meet him in the lobby in an hour and hinted that they would be eating somewhere other than the Inn. Somewhere, where a local delicacy had been given top marks. Then she had to laugh at herself, at the very thought of food, her stomach had grumbled, audibly reminding her that she was in fact, pretty damn' hungry!

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen unbuttoned her maternity blouse and shrugged it off her shoulders, casually tossing it onto the bed and then pulling down the zip of her skirt she let it fall to the floor and puddle around her feet and as she stepped out of it, she couldn't resist an ironic cheer.

Harm heard the noise and stick his head around the bedroom door, "What's up?" he asked, a slightly concerned expression on his face

"Not a thing!" Jen grinned, her dimple very much in evidence, "I'm just so damned glad that I don't have to wear that… that… thing anymore!"

"So… you're happy about that?" Harm asked as he stooped and picked up the skirt from the floor.

"God, yes!" Jen affirmed and then as Harm began to fold blouse and skirt she added, "Oh, don't bother with that! Just throw them into a sack! Goodwill can have them!"

"Ah… that would be a waste," Harm replied, "After all you'll probably need them in the future."

Jen went absolutely still and gave Harm a meaningful look, and all of a sudden he felt the temperature drop to somewhere into the mid-forties, "Not. For. A. long. Time. Mister!" Jen gritted out between clenched teeth so that Harm could hear the period between each word.

"Of course not," he back pedalled hastily, "Your timetable, sweetheart!"

"Good. And don't you forget it!" said Jen as she relaxed and plumped down onto the bed.

Harm finished folding the hated maternity uniform and sat next to her, looping an arm around her shoulders and gently tugging her in towards him so that her head rested against his upper arm.

"Regrets, Sweetheart?" he asked softly.

"Oh… Of course not!" Jen replied, "In fact I can't wait… and yes, I know, I'm going to have to! But at the same time, I want to be able to see my feet again, and be able to bend down and shave my legs…" she added with a twinkle.

"Yeah… that wasn't something I'd planned on having to do!" Harm acknowledged ruefully.

"So… you aren't on any rush to go through just that little bit again?" Jen asked, slightly too innocently, in Harm's opinion.

"Well… I wouldn't say that…" he temporised.

"No? Well then, what would you say?" Jen asked.

Whatever Harm might have said was interrupted by a call from downstairs, "Harm? Jen? There was no answer to the door. I've put your car keys on the kitchen table!"

Harm stood and walked out of the room to the top of the stairs, "Thanks, Loren. Any problems?"

"Nope, nary a one!" she confirmed. "How's Jen taking it – being on maternity leave?"

"It hasn't quite sunk in yet!" Jen chimed in, having hastily thrown on one of her maternity smocks and a pair of stretch-panel slacks before she joined Harm at the head of the staircase. "Your arm, sir?" she smiled up at him.

Loren stood back as Harm led Jen down the stairs and then smiled as Jen waddled across to the living room. "Well, seeing as how you made that in one piece, I'll be going!" she grinned. "It's time for Miss Sasha's pureed veggies!"

"That's what I like to hear!" Harm said approvingly, "Healthy eating habits right from the start!"

"Well, she's got to have something to balance chipped beef with cream she had for lunch!" Loren shot back and then spoiled the joke by bursting into laughter at the horrified look on Harm's face.

"You didn't!?" he almost shouted.

"Of course she didn't," Jen grinned from the couch, and then turned mournfully to Loren, "Too easy isn't? Takes all the fun out of it."

"True, true…" Loren agreed equally sadly, "But I really must go…"

"No, wait!" Jen asked. "Why don't you bring Sasha up for a visit, and you could stay for dinner. I could do with some cheering up…"

"Something wrong?" Loren asked flashing an anxious look at Harm.

"Oh, no… not really, it's just beginning to dawn on me, that all I've got to do for the next couple of weeks is sit around and wait… Everything's ready… my sea-bag is packed with my hospital things, and I reckon I'm going to be climbing the walls while Harm's at work!"

Harm paused on his way to the kitchen, "Pasta and with mushroom and cauliflower cheese sauce okay for you, Loren?"

"Fine thanks, Harm, if you're sure…"

"We're sure!" Harm reassured her, "I think I need you to sit down with Jen this evening and explain to her – again – why she should take things as easy as she can these last couple of weeks! I don't want to come home and find she's scrubbed the house from truck to keelson!"

"Harm!" Jen said in protest but was cut short by Loren.

"He's almost right, you know," she confided to Jen as Harm disappeared into the kitchen, "You do need to take things easy. That doesn't mean you have to sit around and do nothing all day, but what you do, do it while you're seated. For example, you've still got lots of stuff from the shower to unwrap, and the thank you notes to write. You can get Harm to carry the baby stuff up to the nursery and sit on the nursing chair while you unpack them and stow them away… I'll bet there's at least a days' work there!"

"Yeah… I could manage that…" Jen said softly a dreamy look in her eye as she stroked her bump.

"Good. In that case, I'll go and get Sasha… Oh that reminds me, talking of Sasha and baby things, I've got some stuff for her that she's outgrown, and I'm pretty sure you'll find that you could do with some extra sets, especially in the early days. I'll pack them up later and drop them by in a day or two."

"Loren, no! You've done too much already!"

"Rubbish! You'll be helping me out! I need to downsize before Sasha's stuff forces me to camp out in the yard!" Loren argued.

The idea of Loren camping out anywhere seemed so absurd to Jen that she burst out laughing.

"That's better!" Loren said approvingly. "See you in a few!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Beth happily snuggled against Jack's bulk as they bustled along the sidewalk for the five minutes it took from The Red Fox back to the Country House. Dinner had been quite something Beth reflected, oh the food had been good, very good but it had been Jack at his most light-hearted, most attentive, most caring best that had made the meal. Beth even acknowledged to herself that despite his winding her up over the destination he'd had the right idea, getting them away from the immediate DC area… He'd been so attentive at dinner too, and there was definitely that greater degree of warmth in his eyes, the same warmth that she had noticed before, and once again the thought had arisen that he was about to propose. He hadn't, and perversely she felt a pang of disappointment that he hadn't. 'But what if he had?' She asked herself, 'What would I have said?'

Those thoughts kept chasing themselves around in her head for the duration of the walk and she was so quiet that Jack tuned his face down to hers, "Something wrong, Beth?"

"No… nothing's wrong, why?" she asked with a bright smile that wasn't wholly artificial.

"Oh, it's just that you're so quiet…"

"M'mm… I was just thinking back, after that meal, back to when we first started dating… Because although we told the Skipper we were platonic friends, we're not. Not really, are we? I mean we are dating…"

"We are," Jack agreed soberly, and bring Beth even closer with a gentle one-armed squeeze he dropped a kiss on the crown of her head.

"M'mm…" Beth smiled and snuggled in even closer. 'So, what if he had proposed? Then I'd have said, yes,' she suddenly realised and gave a little gasp of astonishment.

"Beth?" Jack queried again,

"No… nothing… just a thought that struck me," she replied, not quite lying.

"Something you want to share?" Jack smiled.

"No… I don't think so, not now at any rate, but sometime in the future, probably yes."

"Oh… that's alright then!" Jack grinned, "But talking about the future, the immediate future, that is… I'm on watch at zero eight, so I'm going to have to abandon you at about zero six thirty just to be on the safe side."

"So… I'm going to be all alone until tomorrow evening?" Beth queried.

Jack nodded, "Yeah, 'fraid so, but I have made arrangements for your entertainment."

"Like what?" Beth asked, unable to keep the edge of suspicion out of her voice.

"I've booked you a spa day at the Inn," Jack said. "Anything you want, the full monte!" Then he added slyly, "That should keep you out of mischief for the day… And I should be back by about seventeen thirty…"

"A spa day?" Beth said her eyes lighting up with anticipation. That was just one of the things she loved about Jack Keeter. Usually he was quite happy to treat her as a fellow officer, almost as one of the guys, but then every once in a while it seemed that he remembered she was a woman and did something incredibly caring and sharing for her.

By this time they had reached the Inn and after a smiling goodnight to the desk clerk they made their way upstairs. Jack stopped outside her door and leaned in to kiss her good night. Beth responded immediately but then broke the kiss, bit kept her hands linked at the back of his neck while she searched his eyes with her own. 'If he'd asked me to marry him tonight, I'd have said yes, so I guess I'm ready for that step after all…"

"Don't go, Jack, come in, stay the night…"

"Beth… are you sure?" Jack asked hoarsely.

"Oh yeah, quite, quite, sure," Beth replied with a smile, dropping her hands from his neck so she could reach behind her with one hand while taking one of his hands in her other one and then stepped backwards through the door drawing him after her.


	106. Maternal Mind Meeting

**Mommy Dearest**

**Chapter 106  
>Maternal Mind Meeting<strong>

Beth awoke to a a softly lit room and a sense of being alone in bed so propping herself up on her elbows she blearily looked around, her face relaxing into a smile as she saw Jack in front of the closet mirror, shrugging himself into his jacket. He must have caught her movement out of the corner of his eye, and turning swiftly, he made his smiling way back towards the bed.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he greeted her, promptly sitting on the side of the bed and leaning in to kiss her gently but thoroughly.

"M'mm… Not that I'm complaining, but what was that in aid of?" Beth smiled as she lay back against the pillows.

"Well, partly it was because I love you, and partly in thanks…"

"Jack! Don't you dare thank me for last night! It was at least as much for my benefit as yours!" Beth scolded him.

"Oh, I wasn't thanking you for that. No. Last night was something special, very special to me, and something that as you have just said, we shared, and something that I will cherish… always."

"Don't make it sound like the one and only time, Jack Keeter!" Beth objected, although still with a smile, "You don't think I'm going to let you off with a one night stand, do you? If so…" Beth pouted in pretended indignation, "I'll have you know that I am not a love 'em and leave 'em type!"

"Didn't think that for a minute… it's just that last night, despite whatever… well, let's just say that last night was very, very special for me."

"Oh…" Beth blinked back sudden tears, "It was for me too… despite whatever I might have heard…" she finished Jack's half unspoken thought, "But that still doesn't explain the thanks part of that kiss!"

"Oh that!" Jack smiled, "Well, I was in a bit of a quandary. I didn't just want to slip out of the room as if I was skulking away in some sort of half-assed walk of shame, but you were sleeping so soundly, and so beautifully, that I didn't know whether to wake you or not!"

"It's as well that the light woke me up then, isn't it?" Beth smiled.

"It is indeed!" Jack agreed, and leaned in to kiss her again, and then breaking the kiss, he groaned, "As much as I want to stay with you, I do got to go, otherwise I'll be adrift! You go back to sleep for an hour or two. The spa doesn't open until nine, and everything is available to you, all the treatments, massages, all the gloops you want, hot tub, swimming pool, sauna… they're all yours."

Beth gave Jack a quick, fierce hug, "Go on, and get going, then" she said in a muffled voice.

Jack reluctantly stood and forced a smile, "I'll see you at about seventeen thirty hours!" he told her.

"Yeah, seventeen thirty!" Beth agreed and once again sank back against the pillows as Jack with a final smile, turned and let himself quietly out of the room.

Beth shook her head in gentle disbelief as she recalled last night. Jack was generally reckoned to be a bar of man, big burly, and string. Strong as he had to be to haul a thirty-ton Tomcat around the sky through high-G manoeuvres, yet last night he had been so gentle… almost tentative….

Beth smiled smugly. It seemed she had discovered for herself what the inhabitants of the Zoomies' female VOQs had rumoured abroad, that Jack Keeter was one of the good guys. He certainly was, and then her smile broadened, as she recalled what Harmon Rabb had said about his Grandmother and Jack, "That rascal Keeper" she apparently called him. Well, if there was one certainty that Beth had discovered, it was that Jack Keeter was a Keeper! And with a happy sigh she turned onto her side and closed her eyes, sinking back into that delicious state of half-waking half-asleep.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"So… my lady of leisure, is there anything that you want to do today?" Harm asked over breakfast.

"M'mm…" Jen hastily swallowed her mouthful of toast and took a sip of her tea before answering, "Yeah… Loren had the right idea. Could you carry all the baby stuff from the lounge up to the nursery, and I can sit there quietly, unpacking and making a list of whom I need to write thank you notes."

"But you just sit there right? I mean no repeated getting up and down to put things away. In fact, I could stay with you, and when you're ready, then I could put the stuff wherever you want."

Jen stared aghast at her husband, the thought of Harm hovering over her all morning, no matter how well intentioned the said hovering might be, was enough to make her blanch. God knows what the effects of the hovering itself might be! So, very quickly shaking her head, she said, "No, there's no need for that, thanks, Harm. What I need you to do is to take the list I've made out, and go and hit up the stores."

"What list?" Harm asked, his voice tinged with a hint of suspicion. Jen had been just a little too emphatic for his taste in turning down his offer.

"Well… considering that a bit later I'll be phoning your mom to finalise the details of her visit, we need to stock up on food for people who eat meat, plus getting in extra of everything. I don't want to have to go to the store next week, and you'll be at JAG, and that means it's anyone's guess as to what time you'll finish on any given night."

Harm was slightly puzzled at the weakness of Jen's argument and then the light bulb at the back of his mind slowly warmed up and began to glow, "And of course it will keep me out of your hair for the morning, won't it?" he asked innocently, but with a smile lurking at the corners of his mouth.

Jen glared ruefully across the table, she wasn't sure whether to laugh or become indignant and deny any such motive, or just hold her hands up and throw herself on the mercy of the court. In the end however, her sense of humour won through and she merely said, "Dammit! Have I really become so transparent?"

"Only to me, and only because I know you so well, and because I love you," Harm reassured her.

Jen giggled, "Sometimes, you say the nicest things! Now… if we're finished here, I can give you a hand with getting the kitchen squared away, and then I really would like you to make a start on carrying the baby things up to the nursery.

Harm pushed his chair back from the table and stood, walking around the edge of it to retrieve Jen's dirty plate and flatware, and pausing to drop a kiss on to the crown of her head, "Your wish is my command, but you don't have to help with the kitchen, it'll only take me five minutes and…"

"Harm! I'm only pregnant!" Jen said in a warning tone.

"No, my love, you are very pregnant, and you know how tired you get by the end of the day. The whole point of these two weeks is for you to rest up and put all your worries behind you. So… I'll check with Loren, see if she wants to go to the store with me, or whether she'd like to come and sit with you. I'm pretty sure she won't smother you the way you seem to think I will. And of course, she'll have Sasha with her!" he added as a clincher.

"Ooh!" Jen objected, "Flag on the play! Bringing Sasha into the argument is playing really dirty!"

"Yep, I know," an entirely unrepentant and grinning Harm agreed, "But did it work?"

"It might have," Jen grudgingly conceded.

"Okay, so I'll call Loren and ask her what she wants to do…" Harm grinned in satisfaction as he reached for the phone.

"_Say that again_?" Loren demanded incredulously.

"Do you want to come to the store with me, or would you like to keep Jen company while I'm gone. Or do you have other plans?"

"_H'mm… let me think about this_." Unseen by Harm, Loren allowed a wicked grin to paint itself across her face, "_On the one hand, I could sit in the car with you, listening to you grouse about the weekend drivers on the road, and then traipse around the store with you, listening to you grumbling about the price of everything, the lack of freshness in the produce, the length of the lines at the check-out, and how slowly they move… or I could go and sit with Jen, and let her cuddle Sasha while I make a pot of tea, and then we could both sit down and talk about labour and babies and breast feeding and infants. Y'know Harm, that's a really tough choice_!"

"Riiight…" Harm drawled, "So I take it you're not a great fan of going to the store with me?"

"_Nope, not really_," Loren agreed, "_Besides, isn't it better if one of us stays with Jen – just to stop her getting too enthusiastic of she feels the need to nest, apart from anything else_?"

"I guess," Harm agreed. "But she's planning to spend the morning in the nursery going through the gifts from the baby shower… will you try to keep her from leaping up and down like a jack in the box, please?"

"_Yeah, I'll keep an eye on her… but if she's sorting baby things, I promised I'd pass on some of the clothes that Sasha's grown out of… Can you give me half an hour to sort them out before you head to the store_?"

"Half an hour? No problem. See you then…"

"_Yeah, okay_."

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen stopped folding a three-piece set of onesies, part of the hand-offs from Loren, and her jaw dropped open, "Oh my God!" she exclaimed.

Loren quickly looked up from where she was writing a list of donors and the gifts they had given and seeing that Jen's attention was directed over her shoulder towards Sasha, she craned around, "What's wrong?" she demanded and then her face broke into a smile, "Oh… that… she's been cruising for a week or so now. Didn't I tell you?"

"No… you didn't… amazing…" Jen smiled, still looking at Sasha, who had hauled herself to her feet and holding onto the wall for support was determinedly making her way towards an ottoman on top of which were an array of soft toys.

"M'mm… I'm planning a trip to that big childcare store at Tyson's Corner for her. I think I need to get her a wheelie-walker… you know… one of those plastic carts she can put her toys in and then push around, to help her to walk."

"But you didn't say anything…" Jen reiterated, still with a smile of wonder on her face.

"M'mm… Well… it didn't happen overnight… once she rolled over onto her tummy it didn't take long before she was commando crawling and then once she sat up it seemed like… well… every time I turned around it seemed like she had gotten a new skill. And as for not saying anything… we've all had a lot on our plate recently, and besides there's nothing as off-putting or tiresome as a mother who keeps bragging about their child. I mean it's not as if she was doing anything that millions of babies haven't done before…"

Jen shot an accusing glance at Loren and then saw the mischief in her expression as well as the love and pride that filed her face. Jen laughed softly, "Oh no, Miss Rabb, you are not fooling me on little bit! C'mon, admit it, you think Sasha's the cleverest, most advanced baby that ever there was… and just for the moment, I'm inclined to agree with you!"

"Just for the moment?" Loren smiled.

"Damn straight!" Jen agreed as she gently rubbed her tummy, "Just until Alison Patricia here makes her appearance!"

"You've picked the names? And it's going to be a girl the doctor told you?" Loren asked, "I thought you didn't want to be told!"

"Nope, no doctor. I know it's a girl," Jen said firmly.

"Okaaay… just playing devil's advocate here for a moment… what are you going to do about names if you're wrong and it's a boy?"

"Never going to happen!" Jen said decisively.

Loren was still debating whether to press the question when the two women heard the front door bang in what sounded perilously like a slam and exchanged conspiratorial grins.

"H'mm… Sounds like my lord and master has returned from the store!" Jen exclaimed.

"And in no very good mood, if the way that door was shut is any indication," Loren agreed.

"Yeah… maybe we ought to go downstairs and try if a fresh brew of coffee will tame the raging beast?" Jen suggested.

"Good thought! I've seen it work at the office… and I could always dump Sasha in his lap, I've never known him to stay grumpy when he's got her."

"Yeah… Oh… Loren! Just listen to us! We sound like a couple of real sneaky plotters!" Jen giggled.

"We do, don't we?" the blonde preened herself, and by extension, Jen too, rising to her feet, she scooped her daughter up and balanced her on her hip before turning to Jen, "Can you manage the stairs okay, or should I call for Harm?"

Jen just gave Loren a steady look.

"Of course you can manage them!" Loren hastily agreed with the unspoken reprimand. "I don't know what I was thinking!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Whether it was the power of freshly brewed coffee or whether it was the benign influence of Alexandra Maria Rabb or even a combination of both, would probably never be known, but whatever the cause, within twenty minutes Harm's shopping-induced bad mood had dissipated, and he was happily bouncing a gurgling Sasha on his knee, while he listened in admiration to Jen's retelling of his niece's achievements, while Loren, playing the understatedly proud mommy, sat back, nursing her own cup of coffee, and smiling indulgently at Jen's enthusiasm.

How long they might have sat in comfortable talk is also a question open to debate, but they were interrupted by the sudden and all too audible rumble of Jen's tummy, at just about the same time that Harm became aware that Sasha was not only beginning to complain, but was also developing a distinctly unsavoury odour. With a hasty, "Here, Mommy, I think she needs your expert attention!" he quickly handed her off to Loren while the expression of dismay on his face caused Jen and Loren to burst into laughter.

"Oh, Harm, what are you going to do when Alison Patricia arrives?" Loren laughed.

"Hey!" Harm exclaimed indignantly, "I can change a diaper! Remember?"

"That's true," Jen acknowledged in the manner of somebody being consciously fair-minded. "He did his share when we had Sasha the night you went out with David."

"So… what's the big deal now?" Loren demanded.

"I am just about to start lunch – in deference to Jen's grumbling digestive system. A lunch to which you are of course invited. That is, unless you haven't finished changing my niece by the time it's ready!"

"H'mm… sounds tempting," Loren agreed, getting to her feet, and propping Sasha on her hip, "What's on the menu?"

"Well, I was thinking mushroom omelettes with a salad and an oven-warm baguette…" Harm answered.

"Oh… in that case – see you in ten!" Loren agreed with a happy smile, and whisked Sasha out of the door and down the path that ran the length of the back yard.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Lunch started in the same companionable mood of relaxed conversation between family members – by this time Harm and Jen never thought of Loren as anything other than a sister or sister-in-law – helped along by the excellent omelettes that Harm had cooked, both Jen and Loren agreeing that Harm was a superb cook and that his omelettes were one of his signature dishes.

Halfway through the meal Jen took a sip of her mineral water and asked, "Loren… you say you're planning a trip to Tyson's Corner… when were you thinking of going? And when you go, what are you planning to do with Sasha? Take her with you or…?"

"Yeah… I was… but if that 'or' means you have an alternative…?"

"Of course!" Jen smiled. "Leave her with us. I mean, you're only going to be away for what… two hours at most? And you know we'd love to look after her!"

"I know you'd love to spoil her!" Loren disagreed with a chuckle, "But if you're sure it won't be too much for you now…"

"Of course she won't be too much. And anyway, Harm'll be here, and it'll be good practice for him of Sasha needs to be changed!"

"Hey! Didn't we just decide that I do know how, and I have changed diapers in the past… in fact just a couple of nights ago! Remember?" Harm shot at Loren in a slightly aggrieved tone.

"Yeah, you did. And you didn't leave any mess. So score one for the man of the family." Loren agreed

But as Harm settled back, a look of complacency on his face he encountered a smug smile from Jen, "Ah yes! We haven't had that conversation about your deceit yet, have we?" she asked in a tone of sweet reasonableness. Ham winced, mentally cursing himself for bringing up the subject – even if indirectly – of the baby shower. From the look on her face it appeared that Jen was in a fair way to have forgotten the subterfuge he had used, and now he had been and gone and done reminded her of it.

Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, as it gave Jen time to brood , Harm's phone chirped its alert call, and turning quickly from the table, he picked it up from the kitchen counter, his eyebrows rising slightly as he saw the caller ID.

"I have to get this. But you two go ahead and work out the details for tomorrow. Alright, alright, I'm a-coming! He announced to the persistently ringing phone.

"Yes, Jack?"

"_Hey Harm, how's it going ol' buddy_?"

"Pretty damned good, why?" Harm asked, his personal BS detector going straight to zone five.

"_You don't have any yard work outstanding, do you_?"

"No. And again, why?"

"_Um… well… Beth – Skates – is on her three-day stand down and she was hinting that she'd like to come and see you and Jen before Jen's due date… I mean that's getting pretty close, isn't it_?"

"Yeah, about twelve days from now."

"_Okay… look, here's the thing. Beth's in Middlesburg having a spa day, and I'm on watch – just grabbing a quick lunch so I can call you. How would it be if Beth and I dropped round this evening, say about nineteen hundred hours_?"

"Okay, yeah, I know Jen would love to see Beth again, and so would I! The thing is, Jack, while we'd love to have you round, and we can even provide dinner, it will be a case of pot luck."

"_No need for that, Harm. I was going to get a Chinese take out for us all and yes I know you still don't eat meat, but I figured that some sort of sea-food would be okay for you. But, well, the thing is… I'm on watch again at midnight, and I kinda reckon Beth would like to spend more than just a few hours with Jen…_"

"So your buying dinner is your way of bribing us to give Beth a bed overnight?"

"_Well… I wouldn't put it quite like that_," Jack objected, "_But… basically, yeah, I guess_."

"Okay, your bribe worked! Not that it needed to. Sure, come on over, and we'll be glad to have Beth sleep over."

"_Great, see you at about nineteen hundred_!" Jack said in farewell.

"Yeah, see you then," Harm agreed, and then as closed the phone he became aware that two pairs of eyes were regarding him, not suspiciously, but in his opinion, not too far off. "What?" he asked.

""Did I just hear aright?" Jen asked. "You invited Jack and Beth to stay over?"

"Not quite," Harm disagreed, re-taking his seat, "Jack more or less invited himself and Beth to dinner this evening, which he will bring with them, so we don't have to worry about that. He's promised a Chinese take-out. Jack goes on watch at midnight, but Beth will be staying over. She wants to visit with you before you need to go to Bethesda, and as she works a nine day cycle this will probably be her last chance."

"Oh, yeah… it would awkward next week too," Jen agreed. "Don't forget we're expecting your mom and Frank to come and stay until the New Year."

"M'mm… and have you called them, Mom in particular, to confirm arrangements?" Harm asked, a slight crease appearing between his brows as he continued, "I think that after their last visit, Mom isn't going to make a move without your say-so."

Jen looked dismayed, "Oh, Harm, no! I know Mom put my nose a little out of joint, but I never meant that she shouldn't ever…"

"I know, that sweetheart," Harm reassured Jen, "But it might be an idea to call, just to put her mind at rest and let her know that you want her here."

"Not only want her here, but I need her to be here, too! And besides, I wouldn't be so cruel as to not let her be here for the birth of your first child!" Jen said vehemently, while silently giving thanks that she had recalled in time that although her baby was Trish's first grandchild, it would have been incredibly clumsy, not mention cruel, to say that in front of Loren. Especially when Trish and Frank in particular, had gone to such lengths to make Loren and Sasha feel wanted and loved. And then took a deep breath, "Do you think they'll be at home right about now? If so, I'll give them a call…"

Harm squinted at his watch, "Yeah, it's a Saturday… nearly ten hundred hours their time, so Frank should be back from his round of golf by now, and if I know him he'll probably try to sneak a cup of real coffee before Mom wises up that he's at home. Mom will be on the deck with her nose buried in one of her art magazines, so Frank will sneak in the front door and straight to the kitchen." Harm continued for Loren's benefit, "It's a kind of game with them. If Frank manages to get his coffee, then Mom will disapprove but allow him to drink it, but if she's on full alert and intercepts him before he makes it to the kitchen, then it's either tea or decaf!"

Both Loren and Jen smiled at that, although they both knew, that Trish was convinced that laying off the caffeine was entirely beneficial, an opinion that neither shared. Loren, now that Sasha was weaned had, with real enjoyment gone back to drinking real coffee on a regular basis, and Jen had had to exercise extremes of will power over the last eight months, and keenly anticipated the moment when she would be able to savour the aroma and taste of coffee again. In the meantime however...

Jen braced her hands against the table and started to push-off only to be interrupted by Harm's, "What are you up to?"

"Going to make that call to your Mom," Jen replied with the air of someone stating the obvious.

"Well, don't move just for that, stay here and use my phone," Harm suggested.

"No… I'd prefer to go and sit more comfortably in the lounge… with a nice cup of tea…" Jen said with a half-suggestive, half-pleading look at Harm, who threw his hands up in the air and grinned.

"Okay, I know when I'm beaten! Loren, why don't you take Sasha through and I'll bring a cup of tea for everyone!"

Loren nodded and unfastened her daughter from her high-chair, "Okay, I'll stay for a cup of tea, but then, I need to get this one back home for her nap."

"But you are staying for dinner, though, right?" Jen asked from the lunge doorway.

"Um… no… five at the table is an awkward number… besides I've got a half-finished letter for David to get into the mail."

Jen nodded and waited for Loren to join her at the doorway, "When's he home again?"

"They're on their last few days, just waiting to be relieved on station by the Carl Vinson, so he's hoping to be home for Christmas, or if not then, then at least for New Year."

"And you can't wait, eh?" Harm teased from the other side of the kitchen.

"Oh… I don't know about that," Loren replied airily, "But I will confess that I won't be sorry to see him again!"

Both Harm and Jen chuckled, and while Harm went on with brewing a pot of tea, Jen made herself comfortable in her nest of pillows on the couch, and with a sigh of relief propped her feet on a further cushion on top of the coffee table before she started dialling the Burnett's home number.

A smile crept across her face as she saw Sasha making a determined effort to stand, holding onto Loren's knee as her mother sat in one of the armchairs and then taking a wobbly step before losing either her concentration or her balance to plump onto the carpet bottom first, but instead of breaking into tears as Jen had thought she might, but instead of tears Sasha responded to her mother's laughter with a beaming smile and a happy gurgle of her own. Jen's own smile however was soon displaced by the creases of a frown on Jen's forehead as the phone at the other end continued to ring, and she was just about to end the call when it was answered.

"_Burnett residence_!" a slightly breathless Trish answered the call.

"Oh, hi Mom, it's Jen. Were you on the deck?"

"_Jennifer, Darling! Oh, no, I wasn't on the deck, the phone was! I was in the kitchen catching Frank red-handed in brewing a pot of his illegal coffee_!" Trish Burnett chuckled.

"Honestly, you make it sound like he was bootlegging!" Jen laughed.

"_Well… he might as well be! That stiff's poison to him – and he knows it! But he will persist in trying to sneak a cup of it when he thinks I'm not around or paying attention! I've even had to brief his secretary not to allow him caffeinated coffee, although how effective that is I have no idea! He's had her under his thumb for the last fifteen years! But you didn't call to ask about Frank's caffeine addiction… so what gives? And more importantly, how are you_?"

"I'm well enough… well, that's if you discount being fat, heavy, with terrible hair, aching feet, swollen ankles and backache… so I suppose I'm in pretty good shape for the last month of pregnancy!" Jen quipped, and then sobered up, "Which is why I'm calling… I've just started maternity leave, and my due date is two weeks tomorrow, and I was wondering if you still wanted to come east for the last week and then stay over for Christmas…"

"_Jen, darling, of course we do! In fact, I was praying you'd remember to invite us and I'll let you in to a little secret, my winter wardrobe is already packed, so all I have to do is jam a few necessaries into a carry-on and I'm all set! When would it be convenient for us to fly out to join you_?"

"Would next Friday be too soon Mom? I don't want to rush you, but I'm told that babies tend to have their own schedules…"

"_Not too soon at all, Jennifer. I'll get Frank to book the flights and hotel and he'll let you know what the details are…_"

Jennifer did not allow Trish to finish her sentence, "You'll do no such thing, Mom! Harm would probably divorce me if I let you book into a hotel! We've plenty of room here, that's exactly why we chose this big a house!"

"Oh, Jennifer, that's very, very kind of you, but really dear, in your condition you won't want us underfoot…"

"Maybe not, but I need you! Mom, I wouldn't tell Harm for the world…" and she shot a warning glance at Loren "but I'm really, really nervous about all this, and Harm's going to be on duty right up until Christmas Day, and I'm going to need someone level-headed to help me, and to help me cope with him once I go into labour! You know what he's like with that overprotective streak! And Loren will be on duty too, so you'll have Sasha to spoil while you're here. Besides, I do want you here. You're family, as much as my mom ever was!"

"_Oh, Jennifer_," there was catch in Trish's voice and she gave a shaky little laugh, "_Very well, you've convinced me…_"

"Good!" Jennifer smiled with satisfaction, "So let us know your flight details and we'll pick you up at whatever airport."

"_Jennifer, there's no need for that, Frank can arrange a rental_…"

"What for?" Jennifer again interrupted Trish, "We've got two cars here already, three if you count Loren's. Loren and Harm car pool to Falls Church ninety nine days out of a hundred, and I won't be doing much driving for the next six weeks or so, and Frank can have the use of my car. After all, it is a Chrysler, and he did pull a lot of strings so Harm got a very good deal on it!"

"Oh… Well, I don't know about us spoiling you, Sasha or our new grandchild, but you're certainly spoiling us! But all right dear, it's your call, so we'll make the play!"

"Good… and Trish… I can't wait to see you and Frank again!"

"_Oh dear, Jennifer…"_ Trish sobbed and then gained control of her voice again, "_Is that son of mine anywhere near_?"

"Yes, he's just come in with a pot of tea for the three of us."

"_Be a dear, and put him on will you, please_?"

Harm took the offered phone, "Mom?"


	107. Engaging More Closely

**Mommy Dearest**

**Engaging More Closely  
>Chapter 107<strong>

Much to their disgust, neither Jen nor Loren were able, as they had anticipated, to make much of Harm's conversation with Trish. This was due, almost entirely, to Harm's contribution being largely confined to such comments as, 'Uh-huh', 'Yes, Mom', and 'No, Mom,' and finishing with a 'Yeah, that would be great, Mom.'

The end result that was lively curiosity in two of the three female faces present; Miss Alexandra Rabb exhibiting not the slightest degree of interest in the adults around her, except for using one of Jen's knees to haul herself to her feet, where she stood precariously balanced for a moment or two before taking two or three tentative steps before plumping down, bottom first, onto the carpet, where she gurgled delightedly at her progress before crawling towards her mother evidently determined on repeating the experiment.

"So, were you being deliberately enigmatic there?" Jen demanded of her husband.

"Enigmatic?" Harm asked, his brows knitted in a slight frown.

"Yeah, that was about the best example of veiled speech I've come across in the last twelve months, at least." Loren added.

"Yeah, so give," Jen demanded.

For a moment or two, Harm silently debated how to answer, but then grinned, "I suppose I could tell you, but then Mom would kill me. The first thing she said to me was that I wasn't to tell either of you what we talked about. And if you think, even for an instant, I'm about to disobey her, then you have another think coming!"

"Ooh!" Jen gritted out in frustration, and turning to Loren asked, "Do you think he's telling the truth?"

Loren studied him, almost dispassionately, for ten long seconds before she heaved a sigh of disappointment, "Yeah, I think he is."

"Darn it! So do I!" a highly disgruntled Jen admitted, as she fielded a tottering Sasha, turning her around to face Loren, and then threw a disgusted look at Harm, who was now quietly chuckling at the two women's obvious discontent.

"I will say one thing," Harm said and two hopeful faces turned towards him, but then their expressions drooped as he continued, "Now that Sasha's on the verge of walking, we really need to re-evaluate our living spaces…" he indicated Loren as well as himself and Jen, "And make totally certain that she can't walk into hard-edged objects, or stick little fingers into electricity outlets, as well as remove anything breakable from her reach…"

The evident disappointment faded from Jen and Loren's faces as they listened, both ending up nodding their heads in agreement.

"I've already spoken with the Alison, the sitter," Loren contributed, "and she's raised a couple of points I hadn't considered, and now that Jen's going to be home during the week, I could ask her to come and have a walk through here and see if there's anything we've missed?"

Jen nodded thoughtfully, "Now that sounds like a plan," she agreed. "Maybe Monday? And it would help the day go a little quicker…"

"That it would," Loren agreed and then, glancing at her watch, she added, "and talking of time, it's about time, I took this one home," she nodded at Sasha, "and put her down for her nap." Loren grinned, "Hopefully, that will give me enough time to think through what I want to write to David."

Harm and Jen exchanged a quick glance before Jen asked, "Is… Is everything okay in that direction?"

"Oh, no problem, everything is just fine," Loren replied, although to Jen she seemed to be using the excuse of picking up Sasha's bits and pieces to avoid looking Jen in the eye, and then, diaper bag over one shoulder, balanced by Sasha of her other hip, with a cheery "Later!" Loren was gone.

Jen, her eye still on the kitchen door, exclaimed, "Well!"

"Well, what?" Harm asked.

"Well, didn't you think that was a bit odd?" Jen demanded.

Harm chewed his lower lip for a moment or so and then shook his head, "No, not really. Just sounds to me that Loren and Tuna still have some issues to work through. When you consider Loren's background, about which you know much more than I, what would strike me as odd would be if they didn't have issues to work through."

"M'mm… Maybe. I'll see if I can't get her to open up a bit." Jen replied thoughtfully.

"I'm not so sure about that, sweetheart," Harm replied. "This may be one of those times when it's better just stand back and let things take their course. Remember how you felt when you thought mom was interfering?"

Jen looked doubtfully at her husband, and then after a few seconds reluctantly nodded and said, "it's just that David seemed so good for Loren, I don't want to see her screwing up and make herself miserable again."

"No more do I, but I reckon we should just leave well alone – at least for the moment. Maybe if things really do start going bad…"

"Yeah, I guess…" Jen said unhappily.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Loren watched as the fed and freshly changed and bathed Sasha's eyelids drooped and closed, with a soft smile she walked soundlessly across the carpeted floor, almost silently closing the door behind her.

Swiftly crossing the dog-run, she entered the living room and made her way to her desk, which was positioned against the wall between the two windows overlooking the yard, and beneath one of the colourful Navajo rugs that served as wall decoration. Sitting down, she opened the writing pad that was waiting for her attention, pouting with discontent as she re-read the few lines already written in her flowing, rounded script.

She had known, going in, that this wasn't going to be an easy letter to write. 'How,' she asked herself 'can I possibly explain the way I feel to David, when I don't fully understand my feelings myself!' So, it was with a sigh and an air of hesitancy that she picked up her pen and added to the letter.

…_As Sasha is evidence, I have been hurt and betrayed at least once before, and I can't let myself take that risk again. In the same vein, I don't want you to have false hopes and then have me dash them later. That would cause you pain_. _So you see, I don't want either of us to get hurt. And most of all, I don't want to lose your friendship. God, that sounds so trite, doesn't it? Considering we've gone far beyond being just friends. But here's the thing… Yes, I like you, I like you a lot, I might even be beginning to love you. I like you enough to take you into my bed, which is not something I do easily, but I'm not yet sure that I can make a commitment, and I would far sooner keep you as a friend – even with benefits – than to turn you into a bitter ex-lover. And I don't want that for myself either, I've been that route before and I have no wish to retrace my steps._

_I guess what I'm trying to say is that I need more time. David, you're a really sweet guy, and I wish I could be for you all that you want, but right now I just can't. You have been very patient; can you please carry on being patient with me, even though I can't give you any guarantees?_

_If you can, then perhaps there is hope for future commitments._

_Loren_

Loren sighed and put the cap back on her pen, and then blowing gently on the ink to make sure it was dry, she folded the letter and slipped it into the waiting, already addressed envelope, before getting to her feet and heading for the kitchen where the makings of a toasted cheese and ham sandwich were waiting for her attention.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

"Where do you think you're going?" Harm demanded as Jen started to lever herself to her feet.

"Just to check everything was ready in Skates' room," Jen replied.

"All done and dusted," Harm said smugly, "fresh linen on the bed, and a stack of fresh towels in the closet."

Jen subsided with a discontented pout, "You're not going to let me even lift a finger, are you?" She demanded.

Harm favoured her with a real shit-eating grin, "Oh, you can lift as many fingers as you want – as long as there's nothing hanging from them!"

"Ooh! Roll on Monday!" Jen declared mutinously, and seeing Harm's eyebrow start to quirk she sent a smug smile of her own in his direction, "at least you will be out of my hair! And I'll be able to get some cleaning done before the baby arrives!" she said pointedly

Harm blenched, he hadn't even considered that for ten out of the next twelve days Jen would be out of his sight, alone at home, and with nobody to keep a caring eye for her welfare. He felt a moment of panic, which was clearly reflected in his face, "Uh… maybe I should take leave…" he started to suggest.

Jen read the real fear in his expression and her pugnacity wilted, "No… there's no need for that, sweetheart," she said softly. "Remember, the baby sitter will be within earshot and then again that your Mom and Frank will be here for the last week before I'm due…"

Harm felt a wave of relief wash through him and grinned, albeit somewhat shakily, "Jeez, Jen, don't scare me like that!"

Jen managed a sly grin, "Just a little payback for hovering."

"So, no cleaning?" Harm asked hopefully.

Jen gave a shake of her head, "Not by me, but your mom…"

Harm nodded, "And I don't think that there's anything you or I could say if she sees something she thinks needs doing and then runs her colours up to the masthead!"

"M'mm… So… Roll on next Friday, huh?" Jen asked in a voice full of irony.

"Yeah, I guess… Oh, crap!" Harm finished his downbeat agreement with an explosive exclamation.

Jen struggled to a slightly more upright position in her nest of pillows, frowned and asked, "What was that in aid of?"

"Friday!" Harm replied, "We've just told mom and Frank to fly out to us on Friday, and that's the evening of Mac's wet down, before she heads off to LeJeune on Sunday. Looks like we're gonna have to do some serious calendar juggling!"

"Oh… Should I call her back, and let her know?" Jen wanted to know.

"It might be an idea… Kinda head 'em off at the pass before they make any arrangements, but I'll call; that way I can explain that was my fault for not telling you about Mac's farewell!" And suiting her actions to words, Harm bent forwards and picked up the telephone, and punched in his mom's number.

"Hi Mom, it's me… um… I kinda screwed the pooch a bit…"

Jen waited while Harm explained the situation to his mother, her anxiety evident by the way she gripped her bottom lip between her teeth. Harm stopped talking and sat, listening to his mother, and as he did so he looked up at Jen, immediately seeing her tension, and to reassure her he not only grinned, but dropped a huge, slow wink to let her know that all was going well.

Finally, he nodded, "So, if you fly on Thursday that'd be great, provided your ETA is after secure, and in which case you and Frank can come to Mac's wet down on Friday. If you can't get a Thursday flight, then you will fly in on Saturday, and it won't matter what your ETA is."

Harm listened as his mother spoke again, and again grinned at Jen. "Yes, Mom, Jen is more than up for going to say goodbye to Mac. I figure by the time she's had a week indoors, a couple of hours with more than just myself for company will do her no end of good. And you will let us know your flight details, right?"

Once again Harm listened as his mother spoke and then said, "And I love you too, and pass on my love to Frank. Yeah, 'bye Mom."

Harm put the phone down, chuckled and grinned again at Jen, "Mom hasn't called me a chowder head since I was about eleven years old. It was just like old times!"

"She wasn't too pissed?" Jen asked worriedly.

Harm shook his head, "Not really, she called me a chowder head, and then giggled, so I figure she and Frank hadn't yet gotten around to calling the airlines."

Jen shook her head and smiled fondly at Harm, "just as well then, that you finally remembered Mac's wet down when you did!"

Harm looped his arm around Jen's shoulder, and gently tugged her into position so that her head rested against his chest and then planted a soft kiss on her sweet smelling hair, "I guess so," he said ruefully. Jen sighed happily and nestled even closer, if that were possible, into her husband's embrace.

They stayed like that, silently reaffirming their bond for a while until Harm heaved a deep sigh and reluctantly disengaged his arm from around Jen. "Something wrong?" she asked with a slight frown.

"No… not really… I druther stay here with you, but we need to get the table set, and plates to warming before Jack and Beth arrive."

Jen groaned quietly, "Damn… I'd nearly forgotten they were coming…"

"M'mm…" Harm agreed, "And it's too late now to call and put them off…" he said hopefully.

"Yeah, it is… and anyway… I do want to see Beth again…" Jen demurred.

"Oh… so do I… it's just…"

"Yeah, I know." Jen replied and then as Harm stood, she held out her hand for him to assist her to her feet, "So come on… you can work, while I sit and watch!"

"Ah! At last you're beginning to get the idea!" Harm smiled. "I figured that we'd eat in the kitchen, no sense in opening up the dining room for Chinese takeout!

"Makes perfect sense to me," Jen smilingly agreed, "but if were eating in the kitchen, just what do we need to do?"

"Well, for a start, you need to sit down," Harm answered her as he drew out a chair from under the table, "while I work my magic on the table, and check the drinks in the fridge."

"Drinks?" Jen queried.

Harm nodded, "I know there's sparkling cider in there for you, and I did put a couple bottles of white wine to cool, along with half a dozen beers – those are for Skates and me. And I stopped off at the store on my way home today, and bought a couple of quarts of tonic water. Jack will be driving later tonight – he's on watch at midnight, and despite his rep, I know him well enough to know that he won't drink and drive. He might have one beer with his meal but that will be all, and like me he reckons that most sodas are way too sweet."

"So if Jack is on watch later, they will only need the one room?" Jen asked.

Harm nodded, "That's what I figured. Jack will be on watch until zero eight hundred tomorrow, then he'll need to grab a few hours shuteye before he comes back to rescue me," he finished with a wicked grin.

Jen glared at him suspiciously before she demanded, "Rescue? Okay, give with the reasoning!"

Harm sat at the table, letting a fistful of flatware drop onto the surface alongside the stack of plates he'd already put in place and tucking his legs under the chair he allowed his grin to broaden, "Well, figure it out… We all will be heading to bed at a reasonable hour, so were all likely to be up pretty early in the morning. That's you, me and Beth. And although Loren won't be with us this evening would you like to bet anything that she and Sasha won't pay a visit sometime tomorrow morning."

Jen thought for a moment and then shook her head decidedly, "Nope, that would be a sucker bet, and besides if she doesn't show here I reckon Beth will insist on visiting with her."

"Exactly," Harm agreed knowingly, "and taking Sasha into the reckoning, as well as your pregnancy, I'm guessing that the conversation will pretty soon turn to things feminine and maternal, and I'll be completely outnumbered, so yes, Jack's return will be something in the order of a rescue!"

Jen's response was a delighted gurgle of laughter, "Harmon Rabb, you are such a fraud! I know you too well, you may not join in the conversation, but you'll be sat there, quietly, in the corner, taking it all in and with a sappy smile on your face!"

"Damn! Busted!" Harm complained, but still with a grin on his face.

"Damn' straight!" Jen confirmed with a further gurgle of laughter as Harm started to set the table placings.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Beth settled in to the passenger seat of Jack's Firebird while he stowed her bags in the trunk, but she delayed clipping her seat-belt until he had climbed into the driver's seat, so that she could lean across the central console and with a hand looping around the back of his neck, draw his head down and towards her so that she could give him a richly deserved, in her opinion, and very thorough and very passionate kiss.

"Wow…" Jack breathed, his face wreathed with a small smile, when Skates finally broke the kiss, "Not that I'm complaining…. Far from it… but was there any particular reason for that outstanding PDA?"

Skates relaxed back in her seat her teeth flashing white against her skin as she grinned broadly, "Well, it was a kinda thank you for today. I've never felt, no, wait – I've never been, so pampered in all my life, and just saying thanks…"

"Would have been more than just enough," Jack interrupted her.

But there was something in his voice that court Beth's ear and a frown settled on the forehead, "Is something the matter, Jack?" she asked.

"Nope," Jack virtually grunted as he buckled his seatbelt and then leaned forward reaching towards the ignition.

Beth sat upright and twisted once more to face him, "Don't you dare start this car! Dammit, there is something! Jack, what's wrong?"

Jack sat back and it was obvious to Beth that he was holding some sort of internal debate, or was trying to figure out how to say something that wasn't destructive. She leaned forward slightly and laid her hand on his forearm, "What is it, Jack? You can tell me, whatever it is – I won't get mad, I promise…" she said softly.

Jack briefly covered her hand with his, but then dropped it into his lap and looked straight ahead through the windscreen, "I… uh…" he began but then paused to clear his throat, and started again, "I… I didn't organise your spa day because I wanted your thanks… although, it is good to be thanked… I sorted it out because I wanted to do something nice for you, because… because…" he faltered and even in the dim light of the car's interior Beth was almost sure he was blushing.

"Because?" Beth prompted.

Jack took a deep breath and turned to face Beth, "Look, you were a bit doubtful, I suppose is the word, about dating me to start with, mostly because I had a reputation for loving and leaving. Here's the thing, Beth, the other the women I dated, yeah, I loved 'em and left 'em, but I left them because I didn't love 'em. And I guess I kinda hoped that you would realise the reason why I haven't left you… And I was kinda hoping that you felt the same way about me, and that's why you kissed me like that."

Beth blinked in astonishment, at the same time as she felt her heart gave a little skip, swallowing once she used the tip of her tongue to moisten her suddenly dry lips and said, "Jack Keeter! Are you trying to say you love me?"

Jack nodded miserably, "Uh-huh."

Beth nodded in satisfaction, "And you wanted to hear me say it back to you?"

"Well… hoped… kinda…" Jack confessed.

"Just what kind of a girl do you think I am, Jack Keeter?" Beth demanded in mock indignation.

"I… Ah… um… Well, after last night, I thought… I hoped… that you were a loving kind of girl…"

"I should think so too!" Beth snapped, although she was having a hard time keeping the laughter from her voice.

"Yeah, I guess," Jack said helplessly.

Beth gave a slight shake of her head, and took pity on him, "Jack, you dumbass, there is no way that last night would have happened if I didn't love you."

"No," Jack agreed, still too sunk in misery Beth's words to immediately penetrate from his ears to his brain.

Beth gaped at Jack and then realised what was happening and began a silent countdown, she had counted down from 10 to 7 before Jack reacted.

"What!?" He demanded, his head snapping to the right so quickly that Beth was afraid he'd given himself whiplash.

"I said, that last night would never have happened if I didn't love you," Beth replied, making a valiant effort to sound matter of fact while repressing the laughter bubbling up inside her.

"You love me too?" Jack demanded in incredulous tones.

"See, you do listen to me sometimes," Beth grinned.

Jack seemed to take on a new lease of life, and to Beth it seemed that his own smile lit up the entire inside of the car, "So, I love you, and you love me… Doesn't seem to leave us with much room to manoeuvre does it?"

Beth frowned, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Elizabeth Hawkes, that I love you, and I want you to be a part of my life, my very own RIO, for the rest of my life. In other words, Beth, my dearest darling, will you marry me?"

Despite her thoughts of the previous evening, Beth was taken slightly aback not just by the proposal but by the sudden prickling of tears, and found that she had to swallow again to find her voice, "Yes, Jack. Yes, I do love you and yes, I will marry you."

"Seriously?" Jack gasped.

"Of course seriously!" Beth said, now torn between amusement and exasperation.

"Wow!" Jack breathed as he almost simultaneously turned the key on the ignition and knocked the selector into gear.

"Jack!" Beth yelped in protest as he shot away from the kerbside, apparently without checking his mirrors.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen glanced up at the clock on the kitchen wall, "Ten minutes before eight. They're late," she observed.

Harm nodded, "That's nothing unusual for Jack, but I was kinda hoping that Beth had straightened him out by now and have him flying right."

Jen nodded understandingly, but she still bit her lip, and after a few moments thought said diffidently,** "**Would it hurt to call him?"

Harm looked dubious, "If he's driving, and I hope he is on the way here, then it might be a distraction, even if he doesn't answer."

"So, we just sit and wait?" Jen demanded. "I wouldn't mind so much but it's way past our normal dinner time, and I'm getting hungry!"

Harm grimaced in sympathy, "I'd make you a sandwich, but if I did you can bet your bottom dollar that Murphy would have the last laugh and as soon as I put the plate in front of you Jack and Beth would be at the door!"

Jen pulled a face but was forced to agree, "Very probably!" she said bitterly. But before Harm could frame a reply of any sort of sharp knocking at the front door drew their attention.

Harm grinned as he stood, "Told you! That'll be them now!"

It was indeed Jack and Beth. Jack loaded down with two brown paper sacks which gave off the unmistakable aroma of Chinese food, while Beth cradled a chilled bottle of champagne in her arms.

Harm stood back from the door and made an expansive gesture towards the kitchen, "go on through," he invited them stooping to plant a hurried kiss on Beth's cheek and clapped Jack on the shoulder as they passed.

The next couple of minutes passed in a flurry of greetings as Jack carefully unpacked the containers of food on simultaneously, at Beth's request, Harm found room in the fridge for the champagne.

It was Jen, appetite sharpened by hunger who interrogated Jack us the contents of the various containers he placed in the middle of the table.

"Okay…" he drawled as he opened each container in turn, "let's see, ah, yeah, braised halibut, seafood pancake rolls, prawn balls with a side of aromatic sauce, lobster tails in ginger and onion, steamed rice, crispy and softy noodles and last, but not least, steamed vegetables."

Despite her claimed state of starvation, Jen was rendered speechless by the cornucopia that Jack laid out in front of her, while Harm, busily employed in pouring a round of drinks for everyone grinned in open amusement at the expression on her face, and paused long enough in his duties as host to ask Jack whether he'd have a beer or not.

To his surprise, Jack shook his head, "I can only have one drink, Harm, so you-all will oblige me by handing me the bottle of fizz."

Jen had gradually become aware of the error of suppressed excitement shared by Jack and Beth, and began to have an inkling of what was to come, so she turned to Skates, "Is there something you're not telling us?" she challenged the older brunette.

Beth looked up at Jack who was engaged in easing the cork from the champagne bottle, "Jack, are we ready to share?"

Jack grinned hugely, "Damn straight we are!" he declared unequivocally, as he started to pour three glasses full, and then cocked an inquiring eye at Jen, "And will you take just a sip?" he asked.

Jen felt a momentary qualm, but then looking straight at Harm said calmly, "If you're about to say what I think you are, then yes. But just a sip!"

"Your wish is my command!" Jack grinned and poured about an egg-cup's worth of champagne into Jen's glass, before he cleared his throat and smiled down the length of the table at Beth.

"This evening after I collected Beth from the spa, I asked her to marry me…"

"And I said yes!" Beth exclaimed.

"But you made me sweat for the answer!" Jack smiled.

"Not as much as I had to work to get the question out of you!" Beth shot back with a grin.

"So… to Beth and Jack!" Harm suggested rising his glass.

"To Beth and Jack!" Jen echoed.

"To us, to our future!" Jack toasted Beth.

Beth coloured and raised her own glass, "Oh, so very yes!" she declared.

The toast drunk, Jack indicated the food, "Come on people, let's eat… all this proposing has given me an appetite, and I don't want to see any of this go to waste just 'cause it's gone cold!"

"No fear of that!" Harm grinned, "Jen was just saying that her stomach thinks her throat's been cut!"

For a good ten minutes thereafter there was little conversation as giant inroads were made into the banquet – for that was what it was – that Jack had provided, until the edge taken off hunger, Jen turned to Beth, "You didn't show us a ring?"

Beth shook her head, hastily chewed and swallowed, "Nope, not got one yet!"

Jen turned an accusing eye to Jack, who held up his hands defensively, "Hey, don't look at me like that… When it comes to a ring, it's Beth that's going to be wearing it for the rest of her life, so I figure she should have the final say in deciding just what sort of ring she should have. So tomorrow, we're going to hit the stores together and spend a happy couple of hours picking one out – together!"

Jen nodded appreciatively, "Now that sounds like a plan! Loren and I are heading for Toys R Us at Tyson's Corner tomorrow, so…" she turned a speculative glance on Harm, "Are you sure you're going to be alright on your own with Sasha?"

Harm grinned, "I'm looking forward to some quality time with my niece! Don't worry!"

"Well…" Jen giggled, her eyes alight with mischief, "Just don't fall asleep with her again!"

Harm's grin broadened, "Trust me… If I even start feeling tired, I'm going to hide every damned camera in the house!"

Beth grinned and turned to Jen, "Blackmail material?"

"Oh yeah…" Jen smiled happily, "And somehow the evidence ended up displayed on the galley fridge at JAG!"

"Jen! You didn't!" Beth gasped in awe.

"No, she didn't," Harm defended his wife, "It was Loren, but I'll bet Jen put her up to it!"

"Well… you do have that one of me!" Jen objected.

"Yes, I do, don't I?" Harm said complacently, "And I'm keeping it in reserve!"

His pronouncement brought a shout of laughter from both Jack and Beth and a muttered threat from Jen, which only produced more chuckles as the four friends happily wrangled and teased each other over the kitchen table.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

It was nearly midnight by the time Harm finished in the shower. He, Jen and Beth had bid goodnight to Jack just before twenty-three hundred hours, his own and Jen's farewells being brief to allow Skates and Jack a little privacy.

A yawning Jen had almost immediately headed for the stairs, with Beth in tow so she could show the petite RIO her bedroom, while Harm swiftly policed and secured the kitchen, before he assured the house securely locked the night and then finally made his way upstairs.

Jen was lying still and quiet under the down-filled comforter, and Harm, in the hope that he wouldn't disturb her, slid quietly into his own side of the bed. Either he was much clumsier than he'd thought or Jen hadn't been asleep in the first place.

She rolled over onto her side towards him and squirmed closer lifting his arm so that she could lay her head in the hollow of his shoulder.

Harm turned his head and dropped a butterfly kiss onto her hair, "G'night sweetheart," he murmured, expecting no more than a sleepy mumble from Jen.

However, Jen was not quite ready to surrender to sleep, "Do you remember our wedding night?" she asked.

"Of course I do!" Harm defended himself, "Every detail!

"So, you're remember what I said before we went to sleep that night?"

"Other than comparing me to the gods?" Harm asked.

Jen grinned, "No, after that… When I said Jack and Beth were going to become an item!"

Harm chuckled softly, "Well, it looks like you were right!"

"Of course I was," Jen said smugly, and then yawned, "Good night Harm."

Harm gave a mental sigh of resignation, "Good night, Jen."


End file.
